The clocks struck seven-thirty as they approached the hotel entrance; and hopes that the chambermaid and patronne would still be abed began to rise in Alex's well exercised breast. The doctor was wearing a long New England greatcoat, hardly necessary in the June weather but a garment which proved well adapted to the sequestration of hens. Alex entered first and was followed by the doctor who, for all his care, manifested a perceptible bulge on his left side where the hen was cradled. They advanced in a line across the entrance hall to the stairway and up, with gingerly steps, towards the first landing. It was then that they heard the tread of one descending and, in some perturbation glancing up, saw the patronne coming towards them as they gained the landing.

``Bonjour, messieurs, vous etes matinals,'' she greeted them pleasantly. Alex explained that they had been out for a stroll before breakfast while the doctor edged around behind him, attempting to hide the protuberance at his left side behind Alex's arm and back.

``Vous voulez vos petits dejeuners tout de suite alors?'' their hostess enquired. Alex told her that there was no hurry for their breakfasts, trying at the same time to effect a speedy separation of the persons before and behind him. The doctor, he noticed, was attempting a transverse movement towards the stairs, but before the movement could be completed a distinct and audible cluck ruffled the air in the hollow of the stair-well. Eyes swerved in the patronne's head, Alex coughed loudly, and the doctor, with a sforzando of chicken noises floating behind him, took to the stairs in long shanked leaps.