As he was finishing it, he heard mysterious, disturbing footfalls in his private corridor, and after trying for some time to ignore them, he was forced by a vague alarm to investigate their origin. A short middle-aged, pallid man, with a long nose and long moustaches, wearing a red and black-striped sleeved waistcoat and a white apron, was in the corridor. At the Turk’s Head such a person would have been the boots. But Edward Henry remembered a notice under the bell, advising visitors to ring once for the waiter, twice for the chambermaid, and three times for the valet. This, then, was the valet. In certain picturesque details of costume Wilkins’s was coquettishly French. "What is it?" he demanded. "I came to see if your luggage had arrived, sir. No doubt your servant is bringing it. Can I be of any assistance to you?" 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 position." 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.