"But she's in my flat," persisted Mr. Stiffson.

"Oh! you naughty old thing!" cried Cissie Boye. "It's you who are in my flat."

"But I came in last night," quavered Mr. Stiffson.

"So did I--didn't I, Mr. Porter?" She turned to Bindle for corroboration.

"Take my dyin' oath on it, miss," said Bindle.

"But----" began Mr. Stiffson, then stopped, at loss how to proceed.

"Look 'ere," said Bindle pleasantly, "there's been a little mistake, sort of a misunderstandin', an' things 'ave got a bit mixed. You can say it's me wot's done it if you like. Now you'd better both get dressed an' come an' 'ave breakfast." Then turning to Mr. Stiffson he said, "Don't you think o' meetin' your missis on an empty stomach. I'm married myself, an' Mrs. B.'s as 'ot as ginger when there's another bit o' skirt about."

Cissie Boye slowly approached Mr. Stiffson. "You're surely not afraid of little me, Mr. Man?" she enquired, looking deliciously impudent.

That was exactly what Mr. Stiffson was afraid of, and he edged nearer to Bindle.

"But Mrs. Stiffson----" he stammered, regarding Cissie Boye like one hypnotised.

"Oh! you naughty old thing!" admonished Miss Boye, enjoying Mr.

Stiffson's embarra.s.sment. "You come into my flat, then talk about your wife," and she laughed happily.

"Now look 'ere, sir," said Bindle, "there's been a little mistake, an'

this young lady is willin' to forgive an' forget, an' you ain't a-goin' to 'old out, are you? Now you jest run in an' get rid o' them petticoats, come out lookin' like a man, an' then wot-o! for a nice little breakfast which'll all be over before your missis turns up at ten o'clock, see! You can trust me, married myself I am," he added as if to explain his breadth of view in such matters.

"But I can't----" began Mr. Stiffson.

"Oh, yes you can, sir, an' wot's more you'll like it." Bindle gently propelled the protesting Mr. Stiffson past Cissie Boye towards his room.

"Don't forget now, in a quarter of an hour, I'll be up with the coffee an' bacon an' eggs. You're a rare lucky cove, sir, only you don't know it."

"I'm so hungry," wailed Cissie Boye.

"Of course you are, miss," said Bindle sympathetically. "I'll get a move on."

"Oh! isn't he delicious," gurgled Cissie Boye. "Isn't he a perfect scream; but how did he get here, Mr. Porter?"

"Well, miss, the only wonder to me is that 'alf Fulham ain't 'ere to see you a-lookin' like that. Now you jest get a rinse in your room an'----"

"A rinse, what's that?" enquired Cissie.

"You does it with soap an' water, miss, an' you might add a bit or two of lace, jest in case the neighbours was to come in. Now I must be orf. Old Sedgy ain't at 'er best after them 'alf days with Royal Richard. Don't let 'im nip orf, miss, will you?" Bindle added anxiously. "'E's that modest an' retirin' like, that e' might try."

At that moment Mr. Stiffson put his head out of his door. "Porter!" he stammered, "Oscar has not had his breakfast; it's on the kitchen mantelpiece." He shut the door hurriedly.

"Oscar's got to wait," muttered Bindle as he hurried downstairs.

Ten minutes later he had the gas-stove lighted in the sitting-room, and coffee, eggs and bacon, bread and b.u.t.ter, strawberry jam and marmalade ready on the table.

Miss Boye emerged from her room, a vision of loveliness in a pale-blue teagown, open at the throat, with a flurry of white lace cascading down the front. There was a good deal of Cissie Boye visible in spite of the lace. She still wore her matinee cap with the blue ribbons, and Bindle frankly envied Mr. Stiffson.

"Now, sir," he cried, banging at the laggard's door, "the coffee and the lady's waitin', an' I want to feed Oscar."

Mr. Stiffson came out timidly. He evidently realised the importance of the occasion. He wore a white satin tie reposing beneath a low collar of nonconformity, a black frock-coat with a waistcoat that had been bought at a moment of indecision as to whether it should be a morning or evening affair, light trousers, and spats.

"My, ain't we dressy!" cried Bindle, looking appreciatively at Mr.

Stiffson's trousers. "You got 'er beaten with them bags, sir, or my name ain't Joe Bindle."

Mr. Stiffson coughed nervously behind his hand.

"Now," continued Bindle, "you got a good hour, then we must see wot's to be done. I'll keep the Ole Bird away."

"The Old Bird?" questioned Mr. Stiffson in a thin voice as he opened the door; "but Oscar is only----"

"I mean your missis, sir," explained Bindle. "You leave 'er to me."

"Come on, Mr. Man," cried Cissie Boye, "don't be afraid, I never eat men when there's eggs and bacon."

Mr. Stiffson motioned Bindle to accompany him into the sitting-room.

"I got to see to Oscar," said Bindle rea.s.suringly.

"Now sit down," ordered Cissie Boye. Mr. Stiffson seated himself on the edge of the chair opposite to her. She busied herself with the coffee, bacon and eggs. Mr. Stiffson watched her with the air of a man who is prepared to bolt at any moment. He cast anxious eyes towards the clock. It pointed to a quarter to nine. Bindle had taken the precaution of putting it back an hour.

Suddenly Oscar burst into full song. Mr. Stiffson sighed his relief.

Oscar had had his breakfast.

"Now, Mr. Man, eat," commanded Cissie Boye, "and," handing him a cup of coffee, "drink."

"An' be merry, sir," added Bindle, who entered at the moment. "You're 'avin' the time of your life, an' don't you forget it."

Mr. Stiffson looked as if the pa.s.sage of centuries would never permit him to forget.

"An' now I'll leave you little love-birds," said Bindle with the cheerful a.s.surance of a cupid, "an' go an' keep watch."

"But----" protested Mr. Stiffson, half rising from his chair.

"Oh! do sit down, old thing!" cried Cissie; "you're spoiling my breakfast."

Mr. Stiffson subsided. Destiny had clearly taken a hand in the affair.

"Now you jest enjoy your little selves," apostrophized Bindle, "an'

then we'll try an' find out 'ow all this 'ere 'appened. It does me, blowed if it don't."

II

"I'm not aware that I speak indistinctly." The voice was uncompromising, the deportment aggressive. "I said 'Mr. Jabez Stiffson.'"