Chapter 6
CHAPTER VI. THE HOTEL CORRIDOR I. As Bindle watched, a face peeped cautiously round the door of one of the bedrooms. It was a nervous, ascetic face, crowned by a mass of iron-gray hair that swept from left to right, and seemed to be held back from obliterating the weak but kindly blue eyes only by the determination of the right eyebrow the face looked nervously to the right and to the left and then as if assured that no one was about it was followed by a body clothed in carpet slippers clerical trousers and coat with a towel hanging over its shoulders parson muttered bindle as the figure slid cautiously along the corridor towards him at the sight of bindle emerging from the office of works the clergyman started violently
can you direct me to the bathroom please he inquired nervously ladies or gents sir demanded bindle ladies or i mean gentlemen's the pale face flushed painfully and the tide of hair refused to be held back longer and swept down entirely obliterating the right eye must have forgot his dressin gown remarked bindle as the cleric disappeared round a corner in the direction of the bathroom furthest from his own room to which he had been directed he must get over that nervousness of his was bindle's excuse to himself as he returned to his room he was just wiping his mouth on his coat-sleeve after draining the last drop of beer when he heard a suppressed scream from the corridor he opened the door suddenly and was startled to find himself confronted by a woman of uncertain age in an elaborate rose-pink neglige and mob-cap beneath which was to be seen a head suspiciously well quaffed for that hour of the morning oh she gasped as she entered the room obviously laboring under some great emotion anything i can do miss inquired bindle respectfully marveling at the make-up that lay thick upon her withered cheeks
looks like an apple what they forgot to pluck he commented inwardly anything i can do miss there's a m m a man in my room she gasped a what miss inquired bindle in shocked surprise a m m a man your husband mum bindle suggested diplomatically i haven't got one she stuttered oh it's dreadful he's he's in my bed and he's bald and he's got black whiskers bindle whistled how long's he been there miss he inquired i went to the bathroom and-and he was there when i got back it's horrible dreadful and two tears that had hung pendulously in the corner of her eyes decided to make the plunge and ploughed their way through the make-up leaving brown trails like devastating armies what shall i do well since you washed me miss i shouldn't say anythink about it replied bindle nothing about it nothing about a man being in my bed she was on the verge of hysterics what do you mean well miss hotels is funny places they might put him on the bill as an extra you you what it was that bindle most resembled he did not wait to hear but with great tact stepped out into the corridor closing the door behind him
somehow i thought things would happen he murmured joyously a few yards from him he saw the form of a fair-haired youth immaculately garbed in a brilliantly-hued silk kimono with red turkish slippers and an eyeglass he was gazing about him with an air of extreme embarrassment hi you he called out bindle approached the young exquisite there's er some one got into my room by mistake she's in my bed too what the devil have i to do awfully awkward what bindle grinned the young man laughed nervously he was feeling a most awful rip you know some people gets all the luck remarked bindle with a happy grin a lady has just complained that she's found a man in her bed ball dead and black whiskers and all and now ere you are a-saying as there's a girl in yours has she a ball dead and black whiskers sir she's got fair hair and is rather pretty and she's asleep i stole out without waking her now i can't walk about in this kit all day he looked down at his elaborate decibel i must get my clothes you know how the deuce did she get there i was only away twenty minutes bindle scratched his head you're in a difficult sort of ole sir i'm afraid it's like once when i went a bathin an the dog went to sleep on me trousers an growl an snapped when i tried to get him away i ad to go ome lookin like an islander look here remarked the young man i'll give you a sovereign to go and fetch my things i'll dress in a bath-room
he was a really nice young man one who has a mother and sisters and remembers the circumstance i'm afraid mrs bindle my wife sir my name's bindle joseph bindle wouldn't like it sir she's very particular as mrs b i think you'd better go in there indicating the office of works and i'll call the chambermaid oh that's a brainy idea remarked the youth brightening i never thought of that bindle opened the door and the youth entered there was a shrill scream from the pink negligee it's all right miss this gentleman's like yourself sort of got hisself mixed up there's a lady in his room in his bed too kind o family coach goin on this mornin seems to me the youth blushed rosily and was just on the point of stammering apologies for his garb when a tremendous uproar from the corridor interrupted him bindle had purposely left the door ajar and through the slit he had a moment previously seen the clergyman disappear precipitately through one of the bedroom doors it was from this room that the noise came mon dieu shrieked a female voice ere's the baton en moi en moi there were hoarse mutterings and the sound of blows
ere you look arter each other bindle cried it's murder this time and he sped down the corridor he entered number twenty one to find locked together in a deadly embrace the clergyman and a little bald-headed man in pyjamas in the bed was a figure bindle mentally commended its daintiness rising up from a foam of frillies and shrieking at the top of her voice silly things what wasn't even words as bindle afterwards told mrs hearty mon dieu mon dieu who regular fightin parson muttered bindle as he strove to part the man if he don't stop a bumpin his head on the floor he'll break it ere stop it sir you mustn't use his head as if it was a coker-nut and you're wanted the milk come bindle had seized the clergyman from behind and was pulling with all his strength as he might at the collar of a bellicose bull terrier come arf yer mustn't do this sort of thing in an hotel i'm surprised at you sir a clergyman too half choking the clergyman rose to his feet and strove to brush the flood of hair from his eyes his opponent seized the opportunity and flew back to bed where he sat trying to staunch the blood that flowed from his nose and hurling defiance at his enemy
what's it all about inquired bindle i came back from my bath and found this man in my bed with a a ma femme shrieked the little frenchman is it not that we have slept here every night for ush sir ush rebuked bindle over his shoulder with a grin we don't talk like that in england sort of lost your way and got in the wrong room bindle suggested to the clergyman he rusted me and kicked me in the er er stumm er well he kicked me and i i forget and i i of course yer did sir any one ud a done the same then to the frenchman bindle remarked severely yer didn't ought to ave kicked him im a clergyman too fancy kickin a clergyman in the well where you kicked him what's the number of your room sir he inquired turning to the clergyman twenty-one see it's on the door bindle looked there was twenty-one clear enough wot's your number sir he asked the frenchman vink de quart now don't you go a usin none o them words for a clergyman wot's your number that's what i'm arston twenty-four ming quart well said bindle with decision you're in the wrong room may c'est impossible cried the frenchman we have been here all night is it not so cheree he turned to his wife for corroboration
bindle had no time to enter further into the dispute suddenly a fresh disturbance broke out further along the corridor what the devil do you mean by this outrage sir an angry and imperious voice was demanding what the devil do you with a hasty word to the clergyman who now looked thoroughly ashamed of himself and a gentle push in the direction of the office of works bindle trotted off to the scene of the new disturbance he heard another suppressed scream from the pink negligee betokening the entry of the clergyman what the devil do you mean by entering my room a tall irate man with the army stamped all over him dressed in pyjamas with a monocle firmly wedged in his left eye was fiercely eyeing a smaller man in a bath-robe not content with having got into my room but damned sir you must needs try and get into my trousers what the devil do you mean by it bindle looked along the corridor appreciatively looks like a shipwreck at night it do he remarked to the chambermaid that's my room said the man in the bathrobe confound you was the reply this is my room and i'll prosecute you for libel my room is number eighteen responded the other and i left my wife there half an hour ago
he pointed to the figures on the door in proof of his contention the man in the monocle looked at the door and a puzzled expression passed over his face them he exploded my room is number fifteen but i certainly slept in that room all night he darted inside and reappeared a moment after with his trousers in his hand here are my trousers to prove it are these your trousers the man in the bathrobe confessed that they were not that seems to prove it all right sir remarked bindle who had come up a man don't sleep in a different room from his trousers leastways unless he's a islander similar disturbances were taking place along the corridor the uproar began to attract visitors from other corridors and soon the whole place was jammed with excited guests in attire so varied and insufficient that one lady who had insisted on her husband accompanying her to see what had happened immediately sent him back to his room that his eyes might not be outraged by the lavish display of ankles and bare arms the more nervous among the women guests had immediately assumed fire to be the cause of the disturbance and thinking of their lives rather than of modesty and decorum had rushed precipitately from their rooms
it might be a turkish bath for all the clothes dere wearin bindle whispered to the exquisite youth who with his two fellow guests had left the office of works ain't women funny shapes when they ain't braced up the youth looked at bindle reproachfully he had not yet passed from that period when women are mysterious and wonderful at the doors of several of the rooms heated arguments were in progress as to who was the rightful occupant inside they were all practically the same that was part of the scheme of the hotel the man with the monocle was still engaged in a fierce altercation with the man in the bathrobe who was trying to enter number eighteen "'My wife's in there!' cried the man in the bathrobe fiercely. At this moment the deputy manager appeared, a man whose face had apparently been modelled with the object of expressing only two emotions, benignant servility to the guests, and overbearing
contempt to his subordinates. As if by common consent, the groups broke up, and the guests hastened towards him. His automatic smile seemed strangely out of keeping with the crisis he was called upon to face. Information and questions poured in upon him. There's a girl in my bed. There's a man in my room. Somebody's got into my room. Is it fire? It's a public scandal.
This man has tried to take my trousers. Look here, I can't go about in this kit. I left my wife in room eighteen, and I can't find her. I shall write to the Times. I protest against this indecent exhibition. The more questions and remarks that poured down upon him, the more persistently the deputy manager smiled. He looked about him helplessly. Hitherto, in the whole of his experience,
all that had been necessary for him to do was to smile and promise attention, and bully his subordinates. Here was a new phase. He wished the manager had not chosen this weekend for a trip to Brighton. The eyes of the deputy manager roved round him like those of a trapped animal seeking some channel of escape. By a lucky chance they fell upon the fireman, who was just preparing to go off duty. The deputy manager beckoned to him. The smile had left his
face. He was now talking to a subordinate. What is the meaning of this? he inquired. The fireman looked up and down the corridor. He had been at the hotel over ten years, that is, since its opening, and knew every inch of the place. From the crowd of figures he glanced along the corridor. He was a man of few words. Somebody's been having a joke. The numbers all have been changed. That, pointing to number 18, is number 15, and that, pointing to number 24,
is number 21. At the fireman's words, angry murmurs and looks were exchanged. Each of the guests suspected the others of the joke. The fireman, who was a man of much resource as well as of few words, quickly solved the problem by obtaining some envelopes and putting on the doors the right numbers. Within a quarter of an hour every guest had found either his clothes, his lost one, or both, and the corridor was once more deserted.
"'Will!' murmured Bindle as he stepped out of the service lift. "'I suppose they won't be wanting me again, so I'll go o'm and get a bit of sleep.' And he walked off whistling gaily, whilst the firemen searched everywhere for the one man the deputy manager most desired to see. 2. On the Monday evening following the hotel episode,
Mr. and Mrs. Bindle were seated at supper. Bindle had been unusually conversational. He was fortunate in having that morning obtained employment at a well-known stores. He was once more a Pantechnicon man. King Richard is his self again, he would say, when he passed from a temporary alien employment to what he called the legitimate. He had felt it desirable to explain to Mrs. Bindle the cause of his leaving the splendid hotel.
She had seen nothing at all humorous in it, and Bindle had studiously refrained from any mention of women being in the corridors. He had just drawn away from the table and was sitting smoking his pipe by the fire when there was a loud knock at the outer door. He looked up expectantly. Mrs. Bindle went to the door. From the passage he heard a familiar voice inquiring for him.
It was Sanders, the foreman, who followed Mrs. Bindle into the room. He made no response to Bindle's pleasant, Good evening. Do you know what you've done? inquired Sanders aggressively.
You lost me my ruddy job. You did it a purpose, and I've come to kill you. Ain't you had enough of burying? inquired Bindle significantly. Burying your mother on Saturday,
and now you're wants to kill your old pal on Monday. The menacing attitude of the foreman had no effect on Bindle. He had a great heart, and would cheerfully have stood up to a man twice the size of Sanders. The foreman made a swift movement in the direction of Bindle.
You stuttering, bespattered God! Mrs. Bindle, seeing that trouble was impending, had armed herself with a very wet and very greasy dishcloth, which she had thrown with such accurate aim as to catch the foreman full in the mouth. You dirty hound! she vociferated.
Coming into a Christian home and using that foul language? You dirty hound, I'll teach her! Mrs. Bindle's voice rose in a high crescendo. She looked about her for something with which to follow up her attack, and saw her favorite weapon, the broom. You dirty-mouthed tyke, she cried, working herself into a fury. You blaspheming
son of Belio, take that! Cracked came the handle of the broom on the foreman's head. Without waiting to observe the result, and with a dexterous movement she reversed her weapon and charged the foreman, taking him full in the middle with the broom itself. In retreating he stumbled over the coal scuttle and sat down with a suddenness that made his teeth rattle. Bindle watched the episode with great interest. Never had he so approved of Mrs. Bindle as at that moment.
Like a St. George threatening the dragon, she stood over the foreman. Now then, will you say it again? she inquired menacingly. There was no response. Say, God forgive me, she ordered. Say it, she insisted, seeing reluctance in the foreman's eye. SAY IT OR I'LL IT YOUR ON YOUR DIRTY MOUTH WITH THIS HERE BROOM. I'M A DAUGHTER OF THE LORD, I AM. ARE YOU GOING TO SAY IT, OR SHALL I CHANGE YOUR FACE FOR YOU?
GOD FORGIVE ME, MUMBLED THE FOREMAN, IN A VOICE ENTIRELY DEVOID OF CONTRITION. MISSES BINDLE WAS SATISFIED. NOW UP YOUR GETTING OR F YOUR GO, SHE SAID. I WON'T IT YOUR AGAIN IF YOU DON'T TALK, BUT NEVER YOU THINK TO COME A USING SUCH WORDS IN A CHRISTIAN OME AGAIN. THE FOREMAN SIDLED TOWARDS THE DOOR WARILY. WHEN HE WAS WITHIN REACH OF IT, HE MADE A SUDDEN DIVE AND DISAPPEARED. BINDLE REGARDED HIS WIFE WITH APPROVAL AS SHE RETURNED FROM BANGING
THE DOOR AFTER HIM. I DIDN'T KNOW, HE REMARKED, THAT THEY TAUGHT YOU'RE THAT SORT OF THING AT CHAPEL. I LIKES A RELIGION THAT LETS YOU'RE DO A BIT IN THE KNOCK ABOUT BUSINESS. CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU AND ORDY BELONGIN' TO THE SAME FLOCK OF SHEEP. RUMMY THING RELIGION, he soliloquized as he applied a match to his pipe seems to ave its bank all a day same as work chapter six read by don w jenkins rancho san diego california shaggybark dot blogspot dot com
