"Not so much noise," commanded Mr. Cooper. "I can't hear myself eat."
"Bob!" said the voice, in relieved accents, "Bob! Come and let me out."
Mr. Cooper, putting a huge hand over his mouth, struggled nobly with his feelings.
"Who are you calling 'Bob'?" he demanded, in an unsteady voice. "You keep yourself to yourself. I've heard all about you. You've got to stay there till my brother-in-law comes home."
"It's me, Bob," said Mr. Simpson—"Bill."
"Yes, I dare say," said Mr. Cooper; "but if you're Bill, why haven't you got Bill's voice?"
"Let me out and look at me," said Mr. Simpson.
There was a faint scream from both ladies, followed by protests.
"Don't be alarmed," said Mr. Cooper, reassuringly. "I wasn't born yesterday. I don't want to get a crack over the head."
"It's all a mistake, Bob," said the prisoner, appealingly. "I just had a shave and a haircut and—and a little hair-dye. If you open the door you'll know me at once."