“Yes, sir.” “I wish to secure rooms for this lady and myself, if possible.” “Yes, sir. This way, sir, if you please. Richard,” this to the boy and in a tone entirely different--the tone of a commanding officer to a private--“see to the gentleman's luggage. This way, sir; thank you, sir.” I hesitated. “The cabman has not been paid,” I stammered. I was a trifle overawed by the grandeur of the mutton-chops and the “sir.” “I will attend to that, sir. If you will be good enough to come in, sir.” We entered and found ourselves in a narrow hall, old-fashioned, homelike and as spotless as the white door. Two more uniforms bowed before us. “Thank you, sir,” said the member of the Royal Family. It was with difficulty that I repressed the desire to tell him he was quite welcome. His manner of thanking me seemed to imply that we had conferred a favor. “I will speak to Mr. Jameson,” he went on, with another bow. Then he left us. “Is--is that Mr. Bancroft?” whispered Hephzy. I shook my head. “It must be the Prince of Wales, at least,” I whispered in return. “I infer that there is no Mr. Bancroft.” It developed that I was right. Mr. Jameson was the proprietor of the hotel, and Mr. Jameson was a pleasant, refined, quiet man of middle age. He appeared from somewhere or other, ascertained our wants, stated that he had a few vacant rooms and could accommodate us. “Do you wish a sitting-room?” he asked. I was not sure. I wanted comfort, that I knew, and I said so. I mentioned, as an afterthought, that Mr. Heathcroft had recommended Bancroft's to me. The Heathcroft name seemed to settle everything. Mr. Jameson summoned the representative of royalty and spoke to him in a low tone. The representative--his name, I learned later, was Henry and he was butler and major-domo at Bancroft's--bowed once more. A few minutes later we were shown to an apartment on the second floor front, a room large, old-fashioned, furnished with easy-chairs, tables and a big, comfortable sofa. Sofa and easy-chairs were covered with figured, glazed chintz. “Your sitting-room, sir,” said Henry. “Your bedrooms open hoff it, sir. The chambermaid will 'ave them ready in a moment, sir. Richard and the porter will bring up your luggage and the boxes. Will you and the lady wish supper, sir? Thank you, sir. Very good, sir. Will you require a fire, sir?” The room was a trifle chilly. There was a small iron grate at its end, and a coal fire ready to kindle. I answered that a fire might be enjoyable. “Yes, sir,” said Henry. “Himmediately, sir.” Soon Hephzy and I were drinking hot tea and eating bread and butter and plum cake before a snapping fire. George, the waiter, had brought us the tea and accessories and set the table; the chambermaid had prepared the bedrooms; Henry had supervised everything.