Cissie Boye made a movement towards her. Bindle laid an arresting hand upon her arm.
"You jest leave 'er be, miss," he said. "I know all about them little games. She'll come to all right."
"Where the hell is that damn porter?" the voice of Number Seven burst in upon them from the outer corridor.
"'Ere I am, sir," sang out Bindle.
"Then why the corruption aren't you in your room?" bawled Number Seven.
Bindle slipped quickly out into the corridor to find Number Seven bristling with rage.
"Because Ole Damn an' 'Op it, I can't be in two places at once," he said.
Whilst Bindle was engaged with Number Seven, Mrs. Stiffson had once more galvanised herself to action. Still screaming and laughing by turn, she wheeled out of the flat with incredible rapidity and made towards the lift.
"Hi! stop 'er, stop 'er!" shouted Bindle, bolting after Mrs. Stiffson, followed by Number Seven.
"Police, police, murder, murder!" screamed Mrs. Stiffson. She reached the lift and, with an agility that would have been creditable in a young goat, slipped in and shut the gates with a clang. Just as Bindle arrived the lift began slowly to descend. In a fury of impatience, Mrs. Stiffson began banging at the buttons, with the result that the lift stopped halfway between the two floors.