The Five

"Hi, I have a booking here. John Spigart."

"Ah yes, here you are. Welcome, Mr. Spigart. I will have Aslam take your bags ..."

But before he could ring the little bell on his desk, John Spigart had reached out and stopped his hand. A polite, firm smile.

"No, thanks. I'll manage."

The hotel manager - probably the owner too, he looked as ancient as the crumbling edifice - seemed put off, but soon righted himself. Bowing slightly, he said, "As you say, sir. You will be staying in room 116, the second door on the right. Let me walk you to your room atleast, sahib. The hotel is big and confusing."

Spigart had looked at maps of the hotels, and knew exactly where his room was. But there would be time for snooping around later, and friendship with the hotel manager could only be to his benefit.

"Sure", he said with a smile, and then they both stepped out into the steamy hot Indian afternoon.