I
As Bindle watched, a face peeped cautiously round the door of one of the bedrooms. It was a nervous, ascetic face, crowned by a mass of iron-grey hair that swept from left to right, and seemed to be held back from obliterating the weak but kindly blue eyes only by the determination of the right eyebrow.
The face looked nervously to the right and to the left, and then, as if assured that no one was about, it was followed by a body clothed in carpet slippers, clerical trousers and coat, with a towel hanging over its shoulders.
"Parson," muttered Bindle, as the figure slid cautiously along the corridor towards him.
At the sight of Bindle emerging from the Office of Works the clergyman started violently.
"C-c-can you direct me to the bath-room, please?" he enquired nervously.
"Ladies' or gents', sir?" demanded Bindle.
"Ladies', of—I mean gentlemen's." The pale face flushed painfully, and the tide of hair refused to be held back longer and swept down, entirely obliterating the right eye.
"Must 'ave forgot 'is dressin'-gown," remarked Bindle, as the cleric disappeared round a corner in the direction of the bath-room furthest from his own room, to which he had been directed.
"'E must get over that nervousness of 'is," was Bindle's excuse to himself, as he returned to his room.