The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1903-09-30
THE EPISODE
in ROOM 222
BY ARNOLD BENNETT
Copyright, 1913, by T. C. Mcclure

not a day singled out from its six COM
panions for mystery, strangeness and
disaster. The number of the room was
ODD. The hotel l shall call by the name
of the Grand Junction Terminus hotel.
The Grand Junction is full every
night in the week except Friday, Sat
urday and Sunday. Every commercial
traveller knows that, except on these
nights, if he wishes to secure a room
he must write or telegraph for 1t in aid
vance. And there are 400 bedrooms.
1t was somewhat late in the evening
when | arrived in l.. On the spur
of the moment l decided to stay Mt the
Grand Junction if there was space for
me. 1t is thus that fate works.
1 walked into the hail, 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 Il room?' l 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 ho-
tel young ladies with yellow hair inva-
riably affect and calculated:
mo. POI"
PITY you couldn't make it all twos,"
l ventured, with timid POPULARITY. How
could l guess the import of what l was
saying?
She smiled very slightly with a dis
tant condescension. Manner" she de-
manded.
EDGE
In another moment I 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 Il double
bedded room, large, eXquisltely 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 he well for me to relate all
that | did that evening. | went down
TO the billiard room and played Il hun
dred up with the marker. To show
that my nerves were at least rs steady
as usual that night | may mention that,
although the marker gave me fifty and
beat me, | made n break of twenty odd
which won his generous approval. The
game concluded. | went into the hall
and asked the porter if there were any
kilograms for me. There were not. l
noticed that the porter-it was the night
porter, and he had just come on duty
seemed TO have a peculiarly honest and
attractive face. Wishing him good
night. | retired to bed.
At 3 o'clock | awoke, not with a
start, but rather gradually. know it
was exactly 9 o'clock because the strik-
ing of Il VIGOROUSLY noisy church clock
in the neighborlood was the first thing
| heard. But the clock had not awak-
ened me. | felt sure that something
else, something far more sinister than n
church clock, had been the origin of dis
turbance.
listened. Then | heard it again. 1t
was the sound of a groan in the next
room.
Some one %indisposed, either in body
or mind" l thought lightly, and tried
to 90 to sleep again. But could not
sleep. The groans continued and grew
more poignant, more fearsome. At last
| jumped out of bed and turned on the
light.
THAT man, whoever he is, is dying"
The idea. as it were, sprang mt my
throat. ''Only Il man who saw Death
by his side and trembled before the APP
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 a solitary electric light glimmered.
My end was Il 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.
| proceeded to the door next my W
the door of No. ODD, and put my ear
against the panel. The sound of groans
was now much more distinct and more
terrifying. | called. No answer.
whats the matter?" | inquired. No
answer Then l tried to open the door,
but it was fast.
yes" | said to myself. "either he's
dying or he's committed a murder and
Is feeling sorry for it. | must fetch the
night porter"
l was compelled TO find my way
along endless corridors and down
flights of stairs apparently innumera-
BILE. 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
i'll in No. 900" l said to the night por-
ter.
as that so, sir?" he replied.
YES" l insisted. Il think he's dy-
ing. Hadn't you better do something's
IF you think he's dying, sir, I'll call
up the manager, Mr.. Thom."
DO" l said.
The manager slept on the first floor,
and he soon appeared, a youngish
man in a terra Gotta dressing gown. his
Nu .,.,