This morning I awoke to a fire alarm at my Inn. The thought of colleagues outside my door ready to document my state of dishevelment overcame any fear of death. So, I dressed and gathered my things. An Innkeeper was soon banging on my door and she escorted me out before I was prepared to leave. Turned out, someone started a recently purchased toast making contraption before removing all packaging. Members of the fire brigade were none too happy with that poor sole. Guests were allowed back in their rooms. As I returned to my room I remembered my watch should be on the nightstand. That is where it was last night, when I spoke to Henry Swift! Swift is as nice as one would expect an admitted thief to be, with tales of skulduggery quite popular at the moment. I admit finding myself sympathetic to Swift's adventures, based upon his entertaining story telling. Swift even called me "Hat," the affectionate name used by my friends and close associates. He politely asked if that was acceptable. Disarmed by his charm, I acquiesced. Having read of Swift's exploitative friendliness, I should have been most alert. However, his peculiar charm took me off guard. I suspected this was when my watch grew legs. Herein lies the moral of this story. My prejudices suppressed common sense during the hectic start to my day. What became of my watch? It was in my pants pocket, where I put it when I spotted Swift last night.