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The porter said, "No, sir. We shouldn't like that to happen."

"I should think not. Not the sort of thing one wants to see happen in a club. I don't want to die on a doormat. And I don't want to die in a lavatory, either. Remember the time that Colonel Macpherson died in the lavatory, Peters?"

"I do, sir. That was very distressing."

"Yes." He was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Well, I don't want to die that way either. See he gets that mat put right. Tell him I said so."

"Very good, sir."

The old man moved away. I had been waiting behind him while all this was going on because the porter had my letters. He gave them to me at the wicket, and I looked them through. "Who was that?" I asked idly.

He said, "That was Mr. Howard, sir."

"He seemed to be very much concerned about his latter end."

The porter did not smile. "Yes, sir. Many of the gentlemen talk in that way as they get on. Mr. Howard has been a member here for a great many years."

I said more courteously, "Has he? I don't remember seeing him about."