On arriving
at their destination, he perceived through the glimmering light that
hung over the doorway, that the "Geneva Hotel" was an old, rambling
frame structure, which stood in the midst of an overgrowth of bushes and
shrubbery. So dense was the foliage that the detective imagined the air
of the place was damp and unwholesome in consequence. Certain it was, as
he discovered afterward, the air and sunshine had a desperate struggle
almost daily to obtain an entrance into the building, and after a few
hours engaged in the vain attempt, old Sol would vent his baffled rage
upon the worm-eaten old roof, to the decided discomfort of the lodgers
in the attic story.
Ceremony was an unheard-of quality at the "Geneva House," and the
railway porter performed the multifarious duties of night clerk, porter,
hall boy and hostler. As they entered the hotel, the porter lighted a
small lamp with the aid of a stable lantern, and without further parley
led the detective up two flights of stairs which cracked and groaned
under their feet, as if complaining of their weight, and threatening to
precipitate them to the regions below. Opening the door of a little box
of a room, out of which the hot air came rushing like a blast from a
furnace fire, the porter placed the lamp upon a dilapidated wash-stand
and the valise upon the floor, and without uttering a word, took himself
off.
Pages:
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29