When the lift stopped, Ernie went along the corridor to deliver a note to Madame in her room. "Thank-you, Caspar," she said. "Good-night." She had always felt a kindness for this soft-spoken son of the people, and the fact that he was reported to be of gentle birth had interested her. As he was going back to the lift he met Ruth, still in her hat, coming along the corridor, bearing a tray. She had the merry, mischievous air of a girl just back from a Sunday school treat, and still brimming with the laughter of primroses and April woods. His heart leapt up in joy and thankfulness as he beheld her. She gave him the old gay look of affectionate intimacy, which she had withheld from him for weeks past. "Good-night, Ernie," she said as she passed him, in a voice so low that but for its deep ringing quality he might almost have missed it. He half hesitated. "Good-night, Ruth," he answered, and as he disappeared down the shaft of the lift saw her, glowing with health and happiness, enter the Captain's room with her tray. He locked the lift. In the hall the Manager was shutting his desk in the office. He saw Ernie and called: "Has Captain Royal come in?" "Yes, sir." "There's a telegram for him somewhere." He hunted about and at last found it. "Take it up to him now, will you?" he said, "It's been waiting since three." Ernie toiled up the stairs, and knocked at the door of 72. There was no answer. He opened it slightly. The light was on, and he entered. The room was empty. He stood a moment, quivering. Then voices from the dressing-room came to him quietly and at intervals. He stood still, with head down, listening. The Captain was speaking softly, insistently. Ruth was dumb. Ernie thought she was crying. Then he heard her voice, panting and very low, "A-done, sir, do!" In a moment Ernie was in eruption. He flung against the door and tore rabidly at the handle. There was no answer from within. Ernie brought his fist down upon a panel with a left-handed punch that seemed to shake the Hotel. "Telegram, sir!" he called in stentorian tones, threw the flimsy envelope on to the bed, and was gone. Next morning the Captain was up early. Ernie met him coming back from the bath-room, a towel over his arm. Royal did not meet the eyes of his enemy. "Have a taxi at the door at 6.45," he ordered. "Yes, sir," answered Ernie. A few minutes before that hour the Captain rang for the lift. Ernie found him waiting on the landing with his suitcase and took him down. In the hall Royal, with averted shoulder, thrust a sovereign towards him. "Here!" Ernie flared white, and swept the outstretched hand aside with a gesture that was almost a blow. "Never!" he cried. For the second time the two men's eyes met and clashed; and in a flash Ernie knew that he had conquered. The Captain had run up the sullen flag of spiritual catastrophe. Then he turned away and marched rapidly across the hall.