It was not. It was a tall, thin man whom he had never seen before.
He appeared to be in a considerable hurry. He let himself into the
studio on the floor below, and vanished without even waiting to shut
the door.

He had come and disappeared in almost record time, but, brief though
his passing had been, it had been long enough to bring consolation
to Archie. A sudden bright light had been vouchsafed to Archie, and
he now saw an admirably ripe and fruity scheme for ending his
troubles. What could be simpler than to toddle down one flight of
stairs and in an easy and debonair manner ask the chappie's
permission to use his telephone? And what could be simpler, once he
was at the 'phone, than to get in touch with somebody at the
Cosmopolis who would send down a few trousers and what not in a kit
bag. It was a priceless solution, thought Archie, as he made his way
downstairs. Not even embarrassing, he meant to say. This chappie,
living in a place like this, wouldn't bat an eyelid at the spectacle
of a fellow trickling about the place in a bathing suit. They would
have a good laugh about the whole thing.

"I say, I hate to bother you--dare say you're busy and all that sort
of thing--but would you mind if I popped in for half a second and
used your 'phone?"

That was the speech, the extremely gentlemanly and well-phrased
speech. Which Archie had prepared to deliver the moment the man
appeared. The reason he did not deliver it was that the man did not
appear. He knocked, but nothing stirred.