"Did you ring, sir?"

"An hour ago. Haven't you more than one bell-hop in this place?"

"I'm sorry, sir."

"And I'm sick, mighty sick. I'm going to die."

"I think not, sir; the others are sick, too."

"That's good! I was afraid they'd dressed and gone." It was some
consolation to know that Ringold and Higgins had not escaped their
share of suffering. "How is Hig--the bony fellow?"

"Do you mean the gentleman in thirty-two?"

"How should I know his number? That's not Hig's description,
however--even you could tell that he is no gentle--Oh, Lord!"

"Can I get you something, sir--a little champagne, perhaps, to
settle your stomach?"

"NO, NO! Get me a taxicab. I want to go up-town."

"Rather a long drive, isn't it?" snickered the bell-boy.

"Never mind the comedy." Anthony opened his eyes. "Hello! Are you
the clerk?" Instead of the bell-hop he had expected he beheld a
man in white jacket and black trousers.