the haunted hotel-第23部分

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Curiosity　might　bring　more　of　them　to　the　hotel；　after　hearing



what　had　happened。　　The　manager's　ingenuity　easily　hit　on　the　obvious



means　of　misleading　them；　in　this　case。　　The　numbers　of　all　the　rooms



were　enamelled　in　blue；　on　white　china　plates；　screwed　to　the　doors。



He　ordered　a　new　plate　to　be　prepared；　bearing　the　number；　'13　A'；



and　he　kept　the　room　empty；　after　its　tenant　for　the　time　being　had



gone　away；　until　the　plate　was　ready。　　He　then　re…numbered　the　room；



placing　the　removed　Number　Fourteen　on　the　door　of　his　own　room



（on　the　second　floor）；　which；　not　being　to　let；　had　not　previously　been



numbered　at　all。　　By　this　device；　Number　Fourteen　disappeared　at　once



and　for　ever　from　the　books　of　the　hotel；　as　the　number　of　a　bedroom



to　let。







Having　warned　the　servants　to　beware　of　gossiping　with　travellers；



on　the　subject　of　the　changed　numbers；　under　penalty　of　being　dismissed；



the　manager　composed　his　mind　with　the　reflection　that　he　had　done　his



duty　to　his　employers。　　'Now；'　he　thought　to　himself；　with　an　excusable



sense　of　triumph；　'let　the　whole　family　come　here　if　they　like！



The　hotel　is　a　match　for　them。'























　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　CHAPTER　XVIII











Before　the　end　of　the　week；　the　manager　found　himself　in　relations



with　'the　family'　once　more。　　A　telegram　from　Milan　announced



that　Mr。　Francis　Westwick　would　arrive　in　Venice　on　the　next　day；



and　would　be　obliged　if　Number　Fourteen；　on　the　first　floor；



could　be　reserved　for　him；　in　the　event　of　its　being　vacant　at



the　time。







The　manager　paused　to　consider；　before　he　issued　his　directions。







The　re…numbered　room　had　been　last　let　to　a　French　gentleman。



It　would　be　occupied　on　the　day　of　Mr。　Francis　Westwick's　arrival；



but　it　would　be　empty　again　on　the　day　after。　　Would　it　be　well　to



reserve　the　room　for　the　special　occupation　of　Mr。　Francis？　and　when



he　had　passed　the　night　unsuspiciously　and　comfortably　in　'No。　13　A；'



to　ask　him　in　the　presence　of　witnesses　how　he　liked　his　bedchamber？



In　this　case；　if　the　reputation　of　the　room　happened　to　be　called



in　question　again；　the　answer　would　vindicate　it；　on　the　evidence



of　a　member　of　the　very　family　which　had　first　given　Number　Fourteen



a　bad　name。　　After　a　little　reflection；　the　manager　decided



on　trying　the　experiment；　and　directed　that　'13　A'　should　be



reserved　accordingly。







On　the　next　day；　Francis　Westwick　arrived　in　excellent　spirits。







He　had　signed　agreements　with　the　most　popular　dancer　in　Italy；



he　had　transferred　the　charge　of　Mrs。　Norbury　to　his　brother　Henry；



who　had　joined　him　in　Milan；　and　he　was　now　at　full　liberty　to　amuse



himself　by　testing　in　every　possible　way　the　extraordinary　influence



exercised　over　his　relatives　by　the　new　hotel。　　When　his　brother



and　sister　first　told　him　what　their　experience　had　been；　he　instantly



declared　that　he　would　go　to　Venice　in　the　interest　of　his　theatre。



The　circumstances　related　to　him　contained　invaluable　hints



for　a　ghost…drama。　The　title　occurred　to　him　in　the　railway：



'The　Haunted　Hotel。'　　Post　that　in　red　letters　six　feet　high；　on　a



black　ground；　all　over　Londonand　trust　the　excitable　public　to　crowd



into　the　theatre！







Received　with　the　politest　attention　by　the　manager；　Francis　met



with　a　disappointment　on　entering　the　hotel。　　'Some　mistake；　sir。



No　such　room　on　the　first　floor　as　Number　Fourteen。　　The　room　bearing



that　number　is　on　the　second　floor；　and　has　been　occupied　by　me；



from　the　day　when　the　hotel　opened。　　Perhaps　you　meant　number　13　A；



on　the　first　floor？　　It　will　be　at　your　service　to…morrow



a　charming　room。　　In　the　mean　time；　we　will　do　the　best　we　can



for　you；　to…night。'







A　man　who　is　the　successful　manager　of　a　theatre　is　probably



the　last　man　in　the　civilized　universe　who　is　capable　of　being



impressed　with　favourable　opinions　of　his　fellow…creatures。



Francis　privately　set　the　manager　down　as　a　humbug；　and　the　story



about　the　numbering　of　the　rooms　as　a　lie。







On　the　day　of　his　arrival；　he　dined　by　himself　in　the　restaurant；



before　the　hour　of　the　table　d'hote；　for　the　express　purpose　of　questioning



the　waiter；　without　being　overheard　by　anybody。　　The　answer　led　him



to　the　conclusion　that　'13　A'　occupied　the　situation　in　the　hotel　which



had　been　described　by　his　brother　and　sister　as　the　situation　of　'14。'



He　asked　next　for　the　Visitors'　List；　and　found　that　the　French　gentleman



who　then　occupied　'13　A；'　was　the　proprietor　of　a　theatre　in　Paris；



personally　well　known　to　him。　　Was　the　gentleman　then　in　the　hotel？



He　had　gone　out；　but　would　certainly　return　for　the　table　d'hote。



When　the　public　dinner　was　over；　Francis　entered　the　room；　and　was



welcomed　by　his　Parisian　colleague；　literally；　with　open　arms。



'Come　and　have　a　cigar　in　my　room；'　said　the　friendly　Frenchman。



'I　want　to　hear　whether　you　have　really　engaged　that　woman　at　Milan



or　not。'　　In　this　easy　way；　Francis　found　his　opportunity　of　comparing



the　interior　of　the　room　with　the　description　which　he　had　heard　of　it



at　Milan。







Arriving　at　the　door；　the　Frenchman　bethought　himself　of　his



travelling　companion。　　'My　scene…painter　is　here　with　me；'　he　said；



'on　the　look…out　for　materials。　　An　excellent　fellow；　who　will　take　it



as　a　kindness　if　we　ask　him　to　join　us。　　I'll　tell　the　porter　to　send



him　up　when　he　comes　in。'　　He　handed　the　key　of　his　room　to　Francis。



'I　will　be　back　in　a　minute。　　It's　at　the　end　of　the　corridor



13　A。'







Francis　entered　the　room　alone。　　There　were　the　decorations　on



the　walls　and　the　ceiling；　exactly　as　they　had　been　described　to　him！



He　had　just　time　to　perceive　this　at　a　glance；　before　his　attention



was　diverted　to　himself　and　his　own　sensations；　by　a　grotesquely



disagreeable　occurrence　which　took　him　completely　by　surprise。







He　became　conscious　of　a　mysteriously　offensive　odour　in　the　room；



entirely　new　in　his　experience　of　revolting　smells。　　It　was　composed



（if　such　a　thing　could　be）　of　two　mingling　exhalations；



which　were　separately…discoverable　exhalations　nevertheless。



This　strange　blending　of　odours　consisted　of　something　faintly



and　unpleasantly　aromatic；　mixed　with　another　underlying　smell；



so　unutterably　sickening　that　he　threw　open　the　window；　and　put　his



head　out　into　the　fresh　air；　unable　to　endure　the　horribly　infected



atmosphere　for　a　moment　longer。







The　French　proprietor　joined　his　English　friend；　with　his　cigar



already　lit。　　He　started　back　in　dismay　at　a　sight　terrible　to　his



countrymen　in　generalthe　sight　of　an　open　window。　　'You　English



people　are　perfectly　mad　on　the　subject　of　fresh　air！'　he　exclaimed。



'We　shall　catch　our　deaths　of　cold。'







Francis　turned；　and　looked　at　him　in　astonishment。　　'Are　you　really



not　aware　of　the　smell　there　is　in　the　room？'　he　asked。







'Smell！'　repeated　his　brother…manager。　'I　smell　my　own　good　cigar。



Try　one　yourself。　　And　for　Heaven's　sake　shut　the　window！'







Francis　declined　the　cigar　by　a　sign。　　'Forgive　me；'　he　said。



'I　will　leave　you　to　close　the　window。　　I　feel　faint　and　giddy



I　had　better　go　out。'　　He　put　his　handkerchief　over　his　nose　and　mouth；



and　crossed　the　room　to　the　door。







The　Frenchman　followed　the　movements　of　Francis；　in　such　a　state



of　bewilderment　that　he　actually　forgot　to　seize　the　opportunity



of　shutting　out　the　fresh　air。　　'Is　it　so　nasty　as　that？'　he　asked；



with　a　broad　stare　of　amazement。







'Horrible！'　　Francis　muttered　behind　his　handkerchief。



'I　never　smelt　anything　like　it　in　my　life！'







There　was　a　knock　at　the　door。　　The　scene…painter　appeared。



His　employer　instantly　asked　him　if　he　smelt　anything。







'I　smell　your　cigar。　　Delicious！　　Give　me　one　directly！'







'Wait　a　minute。　　Besides　my　cigar；　do　you　smell　anything　elsevile；



abominable；　overpowering；　indescribable；　never…never…never…smelt　before？'







The　scene…painter　appeared　to　be　puzzled　by　the　vehement　energy



of　the　language　addressed　to　him。　　'The　room　is　as　fresh　and　sweet



as　a　room　can　be；'　he　answered。　　As　he　spoke；　he　looked　back　with



astonishment　at　Francis　Westwick；　standing　outside　in　the　corridor；



and　eyeing　the　interior　of　the　bedchamber　with　an　expression



of　undisguised　disgust。







The　Parisian　director　approached　his　English　colleague；　and　looked



at　him　with　grave　and　anxious　scrutiny。







'You　see；　my　friend；　here　are　two　of　us；　with　as　good　noses　as　yours；



who　smell　nothing。　　If　you　want　evidence　from　more　noses；　look　there！'



He　pointed　to　two　little　English　girls；　at　play　in　the　corridor。



'The　door　of　my　room　is　wide　openand　you　know　how　fast　a　smell



can　travel。　　Now　listen；　while　I　appeal　to　these　innocent　noses；



in　the　language　of　their　own　dismal　island。　　My　little　loves；



do　you　sniff　a　nasty　smell　hereha？'　　The　children　burst　out　laughing；



and　answered　emphatically；　'No。'　'My　good　Westwick；'　the　Frenchman



resumed；　in　his　own　language；　'the　conclusion　is　surely　plain？



There　is　something　wrong；　very　wrong；　with　your　own　nose。　　I　recommend　you



to　see　a　medical　man。'







Having　given　that　advice；　he　returned　to　his　room；　and　shut



out　the　horrid　fresh　air　with　a　loud　exclamation　of　relief。



Francis　left　the　hotel；　by　the　lanes　that　led　to　the　Square　of　St。　Mark。



The　night…breeze　soon　revived　him。　　He　was　able　to　light　a　ci