Once he halted and tore at the bell.
A waiter came.
"Go to my room, No.

11, and bring me a leather dressing-case, marked 'R.B.' Run! I give you twenty seconds.

After that you lose sixpence a second out of your tip." He pulled out his watch.

The man dashed along the corridor, much to the amazement of a passing chamber-maid.

He returned, bearing the bag in triumph.
"Seventeen seconds! By the law of equity you are entitled to eighteenpence." Brett produced the money and led the gaping waiter out of the room, promptly shutting the door on him.
"He's a rum gentleman that," said the waiter to the girl.
"He must be, to make you hurry in such fashion.