d Squiffy been breaking the place up?"

Mr. Brewster snorted.

"I am informed that this precious friend of yours entered my grill-room
at eight o'clock. He must have been completely intoxicated, though the
head waiter tells me he noticed nothing at the time."

Archie nodded approvingly.

"Dear old Squiffy was always like that. It's a gift. However woozled he
might be, it was impossible to detect it with the naked eye. I've seen
the dear old chap many a time whiffled to the eyebrows, and looking as
sober as a bishop. Soberer! When did it begin to dawn on the lads in the
grill-room that the old egg had been pushing the boat out?"

"The head waiter," said Mr. Brewster, with cold fury, "tells me that he
got a hint of the man's condition when he suddenly got up from his table
and went the round of the room, pulling off all the table-cloths, and
breaking everything that was on them. He then threw a number of rolls at
the diners, and left. He seems to have gone straight to bed."

"Dashed sensible of him, what? Sound, practical chap, Squiffy. But where
on earth did he get the--er--materials?"

"From his room. I made enquiries. He has six large cases in his room."

"Squiffy always was a chap of infinite resource! Well, I'm dashed sorry
this should have happened, don't you know."

"If it hadn't been for you, the man would never have come here." Mr.
Brewster brooded coldly. "I don't know why it is, but ever since you
came to this hotel I've had nothing but trouble."

"Dashed sorry!" said Archie, sympathetically.

"Grrh!" said Mr. Brewster.

Archie made his way meditatively to the lift. The injustice of his
father-in-law's attitude pained him. It was absolutely rotten and
all that to be blamed for everything that went wrong in the Hotel
Cosmopolis.

While this conversation was in progress, Lord Seacliff was enjoying a
refreshing sleep in his room on the fourth floor. Two hours passed. The
noise of the traffic in the street below faded away. Only the rattle of
an occasional belated cab broke the silence. In the hotel all was still.
Mr. Brewster had gone to bed. Archie, in his room, smoked meditatively.
Peace may have been said to reign.

At half-past two Lord Seacliff awoke. His hours of slumber were
always irregular. He sat up in bed and switched the light on. He was a
shock-headed young man with a red face and a hot brown eye. He yawned
and stretched himself. His head was aching a little. The room seemed to
him a