"I understood your orders were not to disturb you but to place the tray on the night-table beside your bed, sir."
Guild regarded him steadily. The servant, clean-shaven, typical, encountered the young man's gaze respectfully and with no more disturbance than seemed natural under the circumstances of a not unusual blunder.
Guild's nerves relaxed and he drew a deep, quiet breath.
"Somebody has made a mistake," he said. "I ordered nothing. And, hereafter, anybody coming to my door will knock. Is that plain?"
"Perfectly, sir."
"Have the goodness to make it very plain to the management."
"I'm sorry, sir——"
"You understand, now?"
"Certainly, sir."
"Very well.... And, by the way, who on this corridor is likely to have ordered that whiskey?"