It was soaking with Condy's Fluid, as it turned out, though I didn't know at the time what the stuff was.

I had an interview with the hotelkeeper himself, a ruffian of the name of Doyle, about that.

I had very nearly to break the bell before I could get any one to come to me.

It's a very odd thing, but he told me practically the same story; said that this man Meldon, whoever he is, had given orders to have Condy's Fluid poured all over my bed and chloride of lime shovelled on to the floor.

I did not believe him at the time any more than I believed that miserable slut of a cook the next morning.