The Burglars Fate and The Detectives | Page 5

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.
With all its progressiveness, it was evident that Geneva was far behind
the age in regard to her hotel accommodations; at least so thought
Manning as he gazed disconsolately around upon his surroundings. The
room was small, close and hot, while the furniture exceeded his powers
of description. The unpainted wash-stand seemed to poise itself
uneasily upon its three remaining legs--the mirror had evidently been
the resort of an army of self-admiring flies, who had left their marks
upon its leaden surface until reflection was impossible--two hard and
uncomfortable-looking chairs--and a bed, every feature of which was a
sonorous protest against being slept upon--completed the provisions
which had been made for his entertainment and comfort. Casting a
dismal look upon his uninviting quarters, but being thoroughly tired,
the detective threw himself upon the couch, which rattled and creaked
under him like old bones, and in a few moments was sound asleep.
How long he might have remained in this somnolent condition if left to
himself, it is impossible to state, for a vigorous alarm upon his door cut
short his slumbers, and startled him from his dreams.
Imagining that the hotel had taken fire, or that the porter had eloped
with the silver ware, he jumped hastily out of bed and opened the door.
"It's late and breakfast is waitin'," was the laconic message delivered to
him by the porter of the night before, as he started away.
With a muttered malediction upon this ruthless destroyer of his rest, the
detective donned his clothing, and, feeling as tired and unrefreshed as
though he had not slept at all, descended to the dining-room. If his
experiences of the previous evening had been distressing, the breakfast
which was set before him was positively heart-rending. A

muddy-looking liquid which they called coffee--strong, soggy biscuits,
a beefsteak that would rival in toughness a piece of baked gutta percha,
and evidently swimming in lard, and potatoes which gave decided
tokens of having been served on more than one previous occasion.
With a smothered groan he attacked the unsavory viands, and by dint of
great effort managed to appease his hunger, to the serious derangement
of his digestive organs. After he had finished his repast he lighted a
cigar, and as the hour was still too early for a conference with the bank
officials, he resolved to stroll about the town and ascertain the locality
of the Geneva bank, before entering upon the duties of the
investigation.
His stroll, however, was not a very extended one, for as he started from
the hotel he noticed upon the opposite side of the street the sign of the
bank. The building in which it was located was a large, square brick
structure, occupied in part by the bank, and in part as a store for the sale
of hardware and agricultural implements. The upper floor was used as
an amusement hall, and was called the "Geneva Opera House." Here
the various entertainments of a musical and dramatic nature were given,
to the intense delight of the people of the village.
There was no notice of the bank having suspended operations on
account of the loss they had sustained, and the operative inferred from
this, that business was being transacted as usual.
When the doors were at length opened the operative entered the
banking room, and requesting to see Mr. Silby, was ushered into the
private office of the