the haunted hotel(闹鬼的旅馆)-第27节
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THE HAUNTED HOTEL A Mystery of Modern Venice
gas…light would certainly spoil them in the course of a few months。 To
this the traveller replied that it was possible； but that he did not understand
decorations。 A bedroom with gas in it was what he was used to； was what
he wanted； and was what he was determined to have。 The compliant
manager volunteered to ask some other gentleman； housed on the inferior
upper storey （which was lit throughout with gas）； to change rooms。
Hearing this； and being quite willing to exchange a small bedchamber for
a large one； Henry volunteered to be the other gentleman。 The excellent
American shook hands with him on the spot。 'You are a cultured person；
sir；' he said； 'and you will no doubt understand the decorations。'
Henry looked at the number of the room on the door as he opened it。
The number was Fourteen。
Tired and sleepy； he naturally anticipated a good night's rest。 In the
thoroughly healthy state of his nervous system； he slept as well in a bed
abroad as in a bed at home。 Without the slightest assignable reason；
however； his just expectations were disappointed。 The luxurious bed； the
well…ventilated room； the delicious tranquillity of Venice by night； all were
in favour of his sleeping well。 He never slept at all。 An indescribable
sense of depression and discomfort kept him waking through darkness and
daylight alike。 He went down to the coffee…room as soon as the hotel was
astir； and ordered some breakfast。 Another unaccountable change in
himself appeared with the appearance of the meal。 He was absolutely
without appetite。 An excellent omelette； and cutlets cooked to perfection；
he sent away untastedhe； whose appetite never failed him； whose
digestion was still equal to any demands on it！
The day was bright and fine。 He sent for a gondola； and was rowed
to the Lido。
Out on the airy Lagoon； he felt like a new man。 He had not left the
hotel ten minutes before he was fast asleep in the gondola。 Waking； on
reaching the landing…place； he crossed the Lido； and enjoyed a morning's
swim in the Adriatic。 There was only a poor restaurant on the island； in
those days； but his appetite was now ready for anything； he ate whatever
was offered to him； like a famished man。 He could hardly believe； when
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he reflected on it； that he had sent away untasted his excellent breakfast at
the hotel。
Returning to Venice； he spent the rest of the day in the picture…galleries
and the churches。 Towards six o'clock his gondola took him back； with
another fine appetite； to meet some travelling acquaintances with whom he
had engaged to dine at the table d'hote。
The dinner was deservedly rewarded with the highest approval by
every guest in the hotel but one。 To Henry's astonishment； the appetite
with which he had entered the house mysteriously and completely left him
when he sat down to table。 He could drink some wine； but he could
literally eat nothing。 'What in the world is the matter with you？' his
travelling acquaintances asked。 He could honestly answer； 'I know no
more than you do。'
When night came； he gave his comfortable and beautiful bedroom
another trial。 The result of the second experiment was a repetition of the
result of the first。 Again he felt the all…pervading sense of depression and
discomfort。 Again he passed a sleepless night。 And once more； when he
tried to eat his breakfast； his appetite completely failed him！
This personal experience of the new hotel was too extraordinary to be
passed over in silence。 Henry mentioned it to his friends in the public
room； in the hearing of the manager。 The manager； naturally zealous in
defence of the hotel； was a little hurt at the implied reflection cast on
Number Fourteen。 He invited the travellers present to judge for
themselves whether Mr。 Westwick's bedroom was to blame for Mr。
Westwick's sleepless nights； and he especially appealed to a grey…headed
gentleman； a guest at the breakfast…table of an English traveller； to take the
lead in the investigation。 'This is Doctor Bruno； our first physician in
Venice；' he explained。 'I appeal to him to say if there are any unhealthy
influences in Mr。 Westwick's room。'
Introduced to Number Fourteen； the doctor looked round him with a
certain appearance of interest which was noticed by everyone present。
'The last time I was in this room；' he said； 'was on a melancholy occasion。
It was before the palace was changed into an hotel。 I was in professional
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THE HAUNTED HOTEL A Mystery of Modern Venice
attendance on an English nobleman who died here。' One of the persons
present inquired the name of the nobleman。 Doctor Bruno answered
（without the slightest suspicion that he was speaking before a brother of
the dead man）； 'Lord Montbarry。'
Henry quietly left the room； without saying a word to anybody。
He was not； in any sense of the term； a superstitious man。 But he felt；
nevertheless； an insurmountable reluctance to remaining in the hotel。 He
decided on leaving Venice。 To ask for another room would be； as he
could plainly see； an offence in the eyes of the manager。 To remove to
another hotel； would be to openly abandon an establishment in the success
of which he had a pecuniary interest。 Leaving a note for Arthur Barville；
on his arrival in Venice； in which he merely mentioned that he had gone to
look at the Italian lakes； and that a line addressed to his hotel at Milan
would bring him back again； he took the afternoon train to Padua and
dined with his usual appetite； and slept as well as ever that night。
The next day； a gentleman and his wife （perfect strangers to the
Montbarry family）； returning to England by way of Venice； arrived at the
hotel and occupied Number Fourteen。
Still mindful of the slur that had been cast on one of his best
bedchambers； the manager took occasion to ask the travellers the next
morning how they liked their room。 They left him to judge for himself
how well they were satisfied； by remaining a day longer in Venice than
they had originally planned to do； solely for the purpose of enjoying the
excellent accommodation offered to them by the new hotel。 'We have
met with nothing like it in Italy；' they said； 'you may rely on our
recommending you to all our friends。'
On the day when Number Fourteen was again vacant； an English lady
travelling alone with her maid arrived at the hotel； saw the room； and at
once engaged it。
The lady was Mrs。 Norbury。 She had left Francis Westwick at Milan；
occupied in negotiating for the appearance at his theatre of the new dancer
at the Scala。 Not having heard to the contrary； Mrs。 Norbury supposed
that Arthur Barville and his wife had already arrived at Venice。 She was
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more interested in meeting the young married couple than in awaiting the
result of the hard bargaining which delayed the engagement of the new
dancer； and she volunteered to make her brother's apologies； if his
theatrical business caused him to be late in keeping his appointment at the
honeymoon festival。
Mrs。 Norbury's experience of Number Fourteen differed entirely from
her brother Henry's experience of the room。
Failing asleep as readily as usual； her repose was disturbed by a
succession of frightful dreams； the central figure in every one of them
being the figure of her dead brother； the first Lord Montbarry。
