“Nonsense, sir,” the butler chided. “As you are aware, under the terms of our contract you may define my duties for me, but the method by which I execute them is left to my discretion.”
“I could fire you,” the commander suggested, but again the butler shook his head.
“Quite impossible, I’m afraid. That would require giving written notice, not to mention-“
“It’s too late, anyway,” Maxine said, cutting the exchange short. “You see, Mr. Phule, now that … Beeker … has seen fit to join us, I’m afraid that …”
Another knock at the door interrupted them.
It was an indication of how rattled the guard was that he simply opened the door without taking any of his earlier precautions.
“Room service!”
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” the guard said. “We haven’t ordered anything.”
He glanced back over his shoulder for confirmation.
“I’m afraid I did,” Beeker declared. “Forgive me, but I took the liberty of ordering a meal for Mr. Phule. Over here, please!”
The short, dark, white-coated waiter wheeled the tablecloth-covered service cart into the room past the hapless guard.
Laverna frowned. “What’s the matter, Beeker? Didn’t you think we’d feed him?”
“Did you?” the butler asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Well, as a matter of fact … I mean, he’s been sleeping …” she stammered, but the butler came to her rescue.
“No need to apologize,” he said. “I’m aware of Mr. Phule’s eating habits, such as they are. That is, in fact, what prompted me to order a meal without bothering to check first. Certain things can almost be taken as assumed.”