"I beg your pardon?"
"Are you alone?"
"Yes."
The clerk fumbled with the register. Precocious juveniles were not unknown to him, but a boy of Philip's type had not hitherto arisen over his horizon.
"A sitting room and a bedroom en suite?" he repeated.
"Exactly."
The clerk was disconcerted by Philip's steady gaze.
"On what floor?" he asked.
"Really," said Philip, "I don't know. Suppose you tell me what accommodation you have. Then I will decide at once."
The official, who was one of the most skilled hotel clerks in London, found it ridiculous to be put out of countenance by a mere boy, who could not be a day older than seventeen, and might be a good deal less. He cast a critical eye on Philip's clothing, and saw that, while it was good, it had not the gloss of Vere de Vere.