Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1903-08-15
the EPISODE
IN ROOM 222
BY ARNOLD BENNETT
Copyright, 1908, by T. G. Mcclure
By ARNOLD BENNE

| night in the week except Friday, Sat-
urday and Sunday. Every commercial
traveller knows that, except on these
nights, if he wishes to secure room
| he must write or telegraph for it in ad-
vance. And there are 400 bedrooms.
It was somewhat late in the evening
! when I arrived in L. On the spur
of the moment 1 decided to stay at the
| Grand Junction if there was space for
me. It is thus that fate works.
1 walked into the hall, followed by a
platform porter with my bag. The
place seemed just as usual, the perfec-
ton of the commonplace, the business
like and the unspiritual.
"Have you a room?'' I asked the
+, young lady in black whose yellow hair
| shone gayly at the Office window under
the electric light.
She glanced at the ledgers in the i'm
passive and detached manner which no
| tel young ladies with yellow hair inva-
riably affect and calculated:
"No. 221.'
"Pity you couldn't make it all twos,
I ventured, with timid popularity. How
could l guess the import of what I was
saying?
She smiled very slightly with dis
! tant condescension. Manner she de-
manded.
Edge"
| In another moment was in the ele-
| vator.
No. 221 was the last door but one at
the end of the eastern corridor of the
| fourth floor 1t proved to be double
bedded room, large, exquisitely ugly,
| but perfectly appointed in all matters
| Of comfort In short, it was character
! istic of the hotel. l knew that every
bedroom in that corridor presented ex-
actly the same aspect. One instructive
ly felt the impossibility of anything
weird, anything bizarre, anything terri
BILE, entering the precincts of an abode
so solid, cheerful, orderly and middle
class.
1t will be well for me to relate all
that l did that evening. 1 went down
to the billiard room and played hum
| dred up with the marker. To show
that my nerves were at least as steady
as usual that night 1 may mention that,
although the marker gave me fifty and
beat me, ! made break Of twenty odd
which won his generous approval. The
| game concluded, l went into the hall
and asked the porter If there were any
| kilograms for me. There were not.
noticed that the porter-it was the night
porter, and he had just come on duty
seemed to have peculiarly honest and
attractive face. Wishing him good
night, retired to bed.
| At 3 o'clock / awoke, not with a
start, but rather gradually. I know it
was exactly o'clock because the strik-
ing of a VIGOROUSLY noisy church clock
in the neighborhood was the first thing
I heard But the clock had not awak-
ened me. 1 felt sure that something
else, something far more sinister than a
church clock, had been the origin of dis
tur0ance.
/ listened. Then I heard it again. 1t
was the sound of groan in the next
| room.
"Some one indisposed, either in body
| or mind" thought lightly, and tried
to go to sleep again. But l could not
sleep. The groans continued and grew
| more poignant, more fearsome. At last
1 jumped out of bed and turned on the
light.
THAT man, whoever he is, is dying,
The idea, as it were, sprang at my
throat. "Only a man who saw Death
by his side and treInbled before the ap-
partition could groan like that"
put on some clothes and went in
to the corridor 1t seemed to stretch
away into illimitable distance, and far
off solitary electric light glimmered.
My end was a haunt of gloomy shad-
ows, except where the open door al
lowed the light from my bedroom to
illuminate the long, monotonous pat
tern OF the carpet.
I proceeded to the door next my own
the door Of No. 222, and put my ear
against the panel. The sound of groans
was now much more distinct and more
terrifying. l called. No answer.
"Whats the matter?' 1 inquired. No
answer. Then I tried to open the door
but it was fast.
"Yes," I said to myself, "either he's
dying or he's committed murder and
is feeling sorry for it. l must fetch the
night porter"
I was compelled to find my way
along endless corridors and down
flights of stairs apparently innumera-
bic. Here and there an electric light
sought with its yellow eye to pierce
the gloom. At length l reached the
hall.
'There's a man either dying or very
ill in No. 222," said to the night por
ter.
"Is that so, sir? he replied.
"Yes," insisted. II think he's dy'
ing. Hadn't you better do something's p
"If you think he's dying, sir, I'll call
| nm rho manager Mr. Thorn /"