Large hat decorated with rose

“Well, here is the honeymoon suite, Mr and Mrs Smith,” said the hotel proprietor showing the couple and, unusually, their dog into the room. “I hope you like it.”

The man looked around.

“Yes it’s a good size, and the two rooms are good,” he said, “but I see there is only one bed.”

“Yes,” said the proprietor, suppressing a frown, “that is how most of our honeymooning guests prefer it.”

“I wonder if we could have two beds,” said the man. “One in the other room.”

“Let me see,” said the man, and went into the corridor.

“There’s always the bathtub, that could do, at a push,” said the woman.

“I wouldn’t dream of asking you to sleep in there,” replied the man.

“Actually, I was thinking of you,” said the woman.

The hotel proprietor returned with a younger man in hotel livery. “Gustave, can you go to one of the other rooms and bring a second bed for the happy couple,” said the proprietor.

Gustave looked utterly confused.

“You want me to…” he started.

“They are English,” said the proprietor, smiling.

“Ahh!” said Gustave. “Right away.”

“I shall leave you in peace,” said the proprietor and backed out of the room.

“Well,” said Sir John, “I guess this will do then. Hopefully we weren’t followed.”

“Aye, because nothing we’re doing is likely to arouse any suspicion at all,” said Morag.

Gustave returned then struggling with a large bed.

“Would you like some help?” said Miss Henderson and Sir John at the same time.

Les Anglais sont bizarre,” muttered Gustave as he moved the bed into the other room.

The proprietor then returned.

“Do you know a man called Monsieur Bosch?” he said.

“Short pale gentleman with unusual dentistry?” said Sir John.

“Yes exactly,” said the proprietor

“Send him up,” said Sir John, sighing.

Gustave came out of the room and walked slowly to the door angling for a tip. Sir John gave him a coin and Gustave was about to pass comment until he saw Miss Henderson glaring at him.

Bon soir!” he said and hurried out the room. There was a crash in the corridor and a series of French curses. Phlebotomous appeared at the doorway.

“Do you have any idea how many hotels I had to check to see where you were,” he said. “I must have asked hundreds of people if they had seen you. It’s lucky I had this daguerrotype.”

Sir John slumped down on the bed and put his head in his hands.

“I thought I would bring you the hats and we could discuss strategy for tomorrow.”

Phlebotomous put a top hat on Sir John, a large and fancy lady’s hat on Miss Henderson and a slightly oversized bowler hat on his own head.


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