Bindle approached the young exquisite.
"There's—er—someone got into my room by mistake. She's in my bed, too. What the devil am I to do? Awfully awkward, what!"
Bindle grinned, the young man laughed nervously. He was feeling "a most awful rip, you know."
"Some people gets all the luck," remarked Bindle with a happy grin. "A lady 'as just complained that she's found a man in 'er bed, bald 'ead and black whiskers an' all, an' now 'ere are you a-sayin' as there's a girl in yours. 'As she a bald 'ead and black whiskers, sir?"
"She's got fair hair and is rather pretty, and she's asleep. I stole out without waking her. Now, I can't walk about in this kit all day." He looked down at his elaborate deshabille. "I must get my clothes, you know. How the deuce did she get there? I was only away twenty minutes."
Bindle scratched his head.
"You're in a difficult sort of 'ole, sir. I'm afraid it's like once when I went a-bathin', and a dog went to sleep on me trousers and growled and snapped when I tried to get 'em away. I 'ad to go 'ome lookin' like an 'Ighlander."
"Look here," remarked the young man. "I'll give you a sovereign to go and fetch my things. I'll dress in a bath-room."
He was a really nice young man, one who has a mother and sisters and remembers the circumstance.
"I'm afraid Mrs. Bindle—my wife, sir, my name's Bindle, Joseph Bindle—wouldn't like it, sir. She's very particular, is Mrs. B. I think yer'd better go in there," indicating the Office of Works, "an' I'll call the chambermaid."