r the bed."

"Well, take a look."

Squiffy shuddered.

"Not me! I say, old top, you know, I simply can't sleep in this room
now. I was wondering if you could give me a doss somewhere in yours."

"Rather! I'm in five-forty-one. Just above. Trot along up. Here's the
key. I'll tidy up a bit here, and join you in a minute."

Squiffy put on a dressing-gown and disappeared. Archie looked under
the bed. From the trousers the head of Peter popped up with its usual
expression of amiable enquiry. Archie nodded pleasantly, and sat down
on the bed. The problem of his little friend's immediate future wanted
thinking over.

He lit a cigarette and remained for a while in thought. Then he rose. An
admirable solution had presented itself. He picked Peter up and placed
him in the pocket of his dressing-gown. Then, leaving the room, he
mounted the stairs till he reached the seventh floor. Outside a room
half-way down the corridor he paused.

From within, through the open transom, came the rhythmical snoring of a
good man taking his rest after the labours of the day. Mr. Brewster was
always a heavy sleeper.

"There's always a way," thought Archie, philosophically, "if a chappie
only thinks of it."

His father-in-law's snoring took on a deeper note. Archie extracted
Peter from his pocket and dropped him gently through the transom.

CHAPTER IX. A LETTER FROM PARKER

As the days went by and he settled down at the Hotel Cosmopolis, Archie,
looking about him and revising earlier judgments, was inclined to think
that of all his immediate circle he most admired Parker, the lean, grave
valet of Mr. Daniel Brewster. Here was a man who, living in the closest
contact with one of the most difficult persons in New York, contrived
all the while to maintain an unbowed head, and, as far as one could
gather from appearances, a tolerably cheerful disposition. A great man,
judge him by what standard you pleased. Anxious as he was to earn an
honest living, Archie would not have changed places with Parker for the
salary of a movie-star.

It was Parker who first directed Archie's attention to the hidden merits
of Pongo. Archie had drifted into his father-in-law's suite one morning,
as he sometimes did in the effort to establish more amicable relations,
and had found it occupied only by the valet, who was dusting the
furniture and bric-a-brac with a feather broom rather in the style of a
man-servant at the rise of the curtain of an old-fas