How seldom in this life do we receive any premonition of impending disaster. I hummed a gay air as I entered the house in Ebury Street where I lodged, and not even the usually quelling sight of Bowles, my landlord, in the hall as I came in could quench my bonhomie. Generally a meeting with Bowles had the effect on me which the interior of a cathedral has on the devout, but to-night I was superior to this weakness. “Ah, Bowles,” I cried, chummily, only just stopping myself from adding “Honest fellow!” “Hallo, Bowles! I say, Bowles, I drew Gunga Din in the club sweep.” “Indeed, sir?” “Yes. He came in third, you know.” “So I see by the evening paper, sir. I congratulate you.” “Thank you, Bowles, thank you.” “Mr. Ukridge called earlier in the evening, sir,” said Bowles. “Did he? Sorry I was out. I was trying to get hold of him. Did he want anything in particular?” “Your dress-clothes, sir.” “My dress-clothes, eh?” I laughed genially. “Extraordinary fellow! You never know——” A ghastly thought smote me like a blow. A cold wind seemed to blow through the hall. “He didn’t _get_ them, did he?” I quavered. “Why, yes, sir.” “Got my dress-clothes?” I muttered thickly, clutching for support at the hat-stand. “He said it would be all right, sir,” said Bowles, with that sickening tolerance which he always exhibited for all that Ukridge said or did. One of the leading mysteries of my life was my landlord’s amazing attitude towards this hell-hound. He fawned on the man. A splendid fellow like myself had to go about in a state of hushed reverence towards Bowles, while a human blot like Ukridge could bellow at him over the banisters without the slightest rebuke. It was one of those things which make one laugh cynically when people talk about the equality of man. “He got my dress-clothes?” I mumbled. “Mr. Ukridge said that he knew you would be glad to let him have them, as you would not be requiring them to-night.” “But I do require them, damn it!” I shouted, lost to all proper feeling. Never before had I let fall an oath in Bowles’s presence. “I’m giving half a dozen men supper at Mario’s in a quarter of an hour.” Bowles clicked his tongue sympathetically. “What am I going to do?” “Perhaps if you would allow me to lend you mine, sir?” “Yours?” “I have a very nice suit. It was given to me by his lordship the late Earl of Oxted, in whose employment I was for many years. I fancy it would do very well on you, sir. His lordship was about your height, though perhaps a little slenderer. Shall I fetch it, sir? I have it in a trunk downstairs.” The obligations of hospitality are sacred. In fifteen minutes’ time six jovial men would be assembling at Mario’s, and what would they do, lacking a host? I nodded feebly. “It’s very kind of you,” I managed to say. “Not at all, sir. It is a pleasure.” If he was speaking the truth, I was glad of it. It is nice to think that the affair brought pleasure to someone.