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licking his lips as he looked at it. He knew that drinking on the job was a sackable offence, but he was awfully thirsty.
    After less than a minute he gave in to temptation. Reaching into the refrigerated cabinet, he removed a miniature of Glenfiddich. ‘Bottoms up,’ he said, raising the bottle toan imaginary companion before draining it in a single gulp.
    All he had to do now was conceal the evidence – and Reg was a past master. Heading over to the complimentary beverages tray, he placed a teabag in one of the china cups. Then he carried the cup to the bathroom and filled it with water from the tap, prodding the teabag with his finger until it turned the water a convincing shade of amber. All that remained was to fill the empty whisky bottle with tea and return it to the mini-bar. As and when a guest discovered the switch, it would naturally be blamed on the room’s previous occupant.
    Having completed his cursory inspection, Reg departed the Wordsworth Suite and set off down the corridor towards his next port of call. As he passed the cleaning supplies cupboard, he noticed the door was slightly ajar. Through the aperture he could see porter-and-sometime-laundry-assistant Charlie standing in the semi-darkness, staring fixedly at the tiny flickering screen of one of the newfangled handheld gadgets all the youngsters seemed to have these days.
    ‘What are you doing in there?’ Reg bellowed as he yanked the door open.
    Charlie started and stumbled backwards, sending a mop clattering to the floor. ‘Nothing,’ he said, gulping hard.
    ‘Well, it doesn’t look like nothing to me.’ Reg held out his hand. ‘Give it here. You know very well that electronic devices are banned at work.’
    Charlie hugged the handheld to his chest like a child reluctant to be parted from his favourite toy. ‘It won’t happen again,’ he said. ‘I was just texting my mum to see if she could pop round and feed the cat tonight.’
    ‘Like hell you were,’ Reg said. ‘Come on, Charlie, hand it over. You’ll get it back at the end of your shift.’
    Heaving a sigh, Charlie did as he was told.
    Reg stared at the unfamiliar device, looking for the off key. He couldn’t help but notice the moving image on the screen above the keypad. It was a woman and she was wandering around her bedroom – naked. He looked at Charlie. ‘So that’s what you were doing … surfing the internet for porn.’ He frowned disapprovingly. ‘You filthy little bugger.’ Reg’s eyes returned to the screen. The woman was closer to the camera now. He found himself admiring her hourglass shape and the delicate shell-like pink of her nipples. Suddenly, she reached towards the bed and picked up a bra that was lying on top of a strangely familiar floral counterpane.
    Reg held the device closer to his face, noting the toile de Jouy wallpaper and the handsome Windsor armchair with its faded upholstery. ‘That looks like the Coleridge Suite.’ He glanced at Charlie, whose cheeks had ripened to the colour of plums.
    ‘It is,’ Charlie admitted.
    Reg looked at the screen again. The woman had put the bra on and was now stepping into a tiny G-string. ‘How the devil …’ he muttered.
    ‘It’s a hidden camera,’ Charlie explained sheepishly. ‘I bought it off the internet.’
    Reg let out a long low whistle. ‘You’ve got some nerve,’ he said. ‘If that young lady discovers she’s being spied on, you’ll be in big trouble.’
    ‘She won’t,’ Charlie said. ‘The camera’s practically invisible. It’s hidden inside the smoke detector.’
    Reg studied the woman’s face. He recognized her now. She was part of a six-strong hen party that had arrived at the hotel the night before. ‘Is this live ?’ he asked.
    ‘Uh-huh,’ Charlie replied. ‘The picture quality’s pretty good, isn’t it?’
    ‘Yeah, not bad,’ said Reg, watching, transfixed, as the woman began performing an elaborate stretching routine in front of the full-length mirror.