"How much?" asked Mavis.
"Five shillin'."
"For that?"
"Five shillin'," repeated the man doggedly.
Mavis did not further argue the point, as, when she opened her mouth, the stench of the room she had quitted seemed to fasten on her throat.
She paid the money and was about to fly down the stairs. Then she remembered her precious bag. Again holding her nose, she hurried back into the room where she had unwittingly passed the night. The bag was nowhere to be seen, although its outline was to be easily traced in the dust on the table where she had put it.
"My bag! my bag!" she cried.
"Vot bag?"
"The one I had last night. Here's its mark upon the table."
"I know nodinks about it," replied the man, as he disappeared down the stairs.