s dismissed him
with a wave of his hand. He went in alone.

"I'm the manager, madam," he assured her. He noted that despite her
excited wails, her eyes drooped half shut. A bottle of sleeping pills on
the table was uncapped.

"Thizz man, thizz man, thizz man!" she kept repeating and pointing her
elbow at the bed. The man in question raised his eyebrows and shook his
head.

"Damndest sensation I ever felt," he said. "I'm Johnathan P. Turner,
attorney. Before I tell you my story, please check with the desk and
verify that I was assigned this room."

Sextus took the phone from the woman's pudgy hand which darted to rescue
the sagging pillow. The room-clerk reported that Mr. J. P. Turner was
registered to room 408, but in "J" vector, not "H".

Sextus' eyes swept the room. It was an unexplainable mess. Two sets of
luggage were jumbled on and around the baggage rack at the foot of the
bed. Rinsed out nylons hung from the shower rod, but a man's shaving kit
occupied the shelf over the lavatory. Despairing of ever arriving at a
sensible explanation, Sextus went to work.

Although hampered somewhat without his shirt, coat and tie, Sextus
managed to get Turner and his belongings transferred peaceably to
another room and the woman quieted down in bed with another sleeping
pill.

Then Turner was allowed to tell his story. "I had turned in early and
was lying there on my back reading the paper when suddenly I got the
most messy feeling all through me. It was like--oh, hell, I can't say
it. Anyhow, in just about a second, something went _thub!_--and there
she was in bed with me--naked!" he added with a shiver.

Sextus grasped at a straw. "How many did you have to drink this evening,
Mr. Turner?"

The attorney squirmed uncomfortably. "Well, quite a few, maybe, but not
enough to--"

Sextus shrugged one shoulder and turned to leave. "Understand, we don't
blame you a bit, sir. You know how these middle-aged women can carry on
when they get out on the town. You must have dozed off before she
slipped in."

"But my door was locked! I think," he added uncertainly.

"We won't breathe a word of it, Mr. Turner. Rest well!"

* * * * *

Sextus padded silently back to his room in his stocking feet and took a
long pull at the whiskey. Funny thing, this. People often got into the
wrong hotel beds, but rarely with such impalpable excuses. He sighed and
picked up the letter from his predecessor again.