“Well, as a matter of fact, I popped in to ask if I might use your ’phone.  You see—­”

A certain relief seemed to temper the austerity of the other’s gaze.  As a visitor, Archie, though surprising, seemed to be better than he had expected.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” he said, meditatively.

“If you’d just let me toddle to the ’phone—­”

“Likely!” said the man.  He appeared to reach a decision.  “Here, go into that room.”

He indicated with a jerk of his head the open door of what was apparently a bedroom at the farther end of the studio.

“I take it,” said Archie, chattily, “that all this may seem to you not a little rummy.”

“Get on!”

“I was only saying—­”

“Well, I haven’t time to listen.  Get a move on!”

The bedroom was in a state of untidiness which eclipsed anything which Archie had ever witnessed.  The other appeared to be moving house.  Bed, furniture, and floor were covered with articles of clothing.  A silk shirt wreathed itself about Archie’s ankles as he stood gaping, and, as he moved farther into the room, his path was paved with ties and collars.

“Sit down!” said Elmer M. Moon, abruptly.

“Right-o!  Thanks,” said Archie, “I suppose you wouldn’t like me to explain, and what not, what?”

“No!” said Mr. Moon.  “I haven’t got your spare time.  Put your hands behind that chair.”

Archie did so, and found them immediately secured by what felt like a silk tie.  His assiduous host then proceeded to fasten his ankles in a like manner.  This done, he seemed to feel that he had done all that was required of him, and he returned to the packing of a large suitcase which stood by the window.

“I say!” said Archie.

Mr. Moon, with the air of a man who has remembered something which he had overlooked, shoved a sock in his guest’s mouth and resumed his packing.  He was what might be called an impressionist packer.  His aim appeared to be speed rather than neatness.  He bundled his belongings in, closed the bag with some difficulty, and, stepping to the window, opened it.  Then he climbed out on to the fire-escape, dragged the suit-case after him, and was gone.

Archie, left alone, addressed himself to the task of freeing his prisoned limbs.  The job proved much easier than he had expected.  Mr. Moon, that hustler, had wrought for the moment, not for all time.  A practical man, he had been content to keep his visitor shackled merely for such a period as would permit him to make his escape unhindered.  In less than ten minutes Archie, after a good deal of snake-like writhing, was pleased to discover that the thingummy attached to his wrists had loosened sufficiently to enable him to use his hands.  He untied himself and got up.

He now began to tell himself that out of evil cometh good.  His encounter with the elusive Mr. Moon had not been an agreeable one, but it had had this solid advantage, that it had left him right in the middle of a great many clothes.  And Mr. Moon, whatever his moral defects, had the one excellent quality of taking about the same size as himself.  Archie, casting a covetous eye upon a tweed suit which lay on the bed, was on the point of climbing into the trousers when on the outer door of the studio there sounded a forceful knocking.