The man thoughtfully twirled one end of his moustache.  It was an appalling fault in demeanour; but the man was proud of his moustache.

“The first human being I’ve met here!” thought Edward Henry, attracted too by a gleam in the eye of this eternal haunter of corridors.

“His servant!” He saw that something must be done, and quickly!  Wilkins’s provided valets for emergencies, but obviously it expected visitors to bring their own valets in addition.  Obviously existence without a private valet was inconceivable to Wilkins’s.

“The fact is,” said Edward Henry, “I’m in a very awkward situation.”  He hesitated, seeking to and fro in his mind for particulars of the situation.

“Sorry to hear that, sir.”

“Yes, a very awkward situation.”  He hesitated again.  “I’d booked passages for myself and my valet on the Minnetonka, sailing from Tilbury at noon to-day, and sent him on in front with my stuff, and at the very last moment I’ve been absolutely prevented from sailing!  You see how awkward it is!  I haven’t a thing here.”

“It is indeed, sir.  And I suppose he’s gone on, sir?”

“Of course he has!  He wouldn’t find out till after she sailed that I wasn’t on board.  You know the crush and confusion there is on those big liners just before they start.”  Edward Henry had once assisted, under very dramatic circumstances, at the departure of a Transatlantic liner from Liverpool.

“Just so, sir!”

“I’ve neither servant nor clothes!” He considered that so far he was doing admirably.  Indeed, the tale could not have been bettered, he thought.  His hope was that the fellow would not have the idea of consulting the shipping intelligence in order to confirm the departure of the Minnetonka from Tilbury that day.  Possibly the Minnetonka never had sailed and never would sail from Tilbury.  Possibly she had been sold years ago.  He had selected the first ship’s name that came into his head.  What did it matter?

“My man,” he added to clinch—­the proper word “man” had only just occurred to him—­“my man can’t be back again under three weeks at the soonest.”

The valet made one half-eager step towards him.

“If you’re wanting a temporary valet, sir, my son’s out of a place for the moment—­through no fault of his own.  He’s a very good valet, sir, and soon learns a gentleman’s ways.”

“Yes,” said Edward Henry, judiciously.  “But could he come at once?  That’s the point.”  And he looked at his watch, as if to imply that another hour without a valet would be more than human nature could stand.

“I could have him round here in less than an hour, sir,” said the hotel-valet, comprehending the gesture.  “He’s at Norwich Mews—­Berkeley Square way, sir.”

Edward Henry hesitated.

“Very well, then!” he said commandingly.  “Send for him.  Let me see him.”

He thought: