The Haunted Hotel | Page 3

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THE HAUNTED HOTEL A Mystery of Modern Venice
by Wilkie Collins (1824-1889)
(after the edition of Chatto & Windus, London, 1879)

THE FIRST PART
CHAPTER I
In the year 1860, the reputation of Doctor Wybrow as a London
physician reached its highest point. It was reported on good authority
that he was in receipt of one of the largest incomes derived from the
practice of medicine in modern times.
One afternoon, towards the close of the London season, the Doctor had
just taken his luncheon after a specially hard morning's work in his
consulting-room, and with a formidable list of visits to patients at their
own houses to fill up the rest of his day-- when the servant announced
that a lady wished to speak to him.
'Who is she?' the Doctor asked. 'A stranger?'
'Yes, sir.'
'I see no strangers out of consulting-hours. Tell her what the hours are,
and send her away.'
'I have told her, sir.'
'Well?'

'And she won't go.'
'Won't go?' The Doctor smiled as he repeated the words. He was a
humourist in his way; and there was an absurd side to the situation
which rather amused him. 'Has this obstinate lady given you her name?'
he inquired.
'No, sir. She refused to give any name--she said she wouldn't keep you
five minutes, and the matter was too important to wait till to-morrow.
There she is in the consulting-room; and how to get her out again is
more than I know.'
Doctor Wybrow considered for a moment. His knowledge of women
(professionally speaking) rested on the ripe experience of more than
thirty years; he had met with them in all their varieties-- especially the
variety which knows nothing of the value of time, and never hesitates
at sheltering itself behind the privileges of its sex. A glance at his watch
informed him that he must soon begin his rounds among the patients
who were waiting for him at their own houses. He decided forthwith on
taking the only wise course that was open under the circumstances. In
other words, he decided on taking to flight.
'Is the carriage at the door?' he asked.
'Yes, sir.'
'Very well. Open the house-door for me without making any noise, and
leave the lady in undisturbed possession of the consulting-room. When
she gets tired of waiting, you know what to tell her. If she asks when I
am expected to return, say that I dine at my club, and spend the evening
at the theatre. Now then, softly, Thomas! If your shoes creak, I am a
lost man.'
He noiselessly led the way into the hall, followed by the servant on
tip-toe.
Did the lady in the consulting-room suspect him? or did Thomas's
shoes creak, and was her sense of hearing unusually keen? Whatever

the explanation may be, the event that actually happened was beyond
all doubt. Exactly as Doctor Wybrow passed his consulting-room, the
door opened--the lady appeared on the threshold-- and laid her hand on
his arm.
'I entreat you, sir, not to go away without letting me speak to you first.'
The accent was foreign; the tone was low and firm. Her fingers closed
gently, and yet resolutely, on the Doctor's arm.
Neither her language nor her action had the slightest effect in inclining
him to grant her request. The influence that instantly stopped him, on
the way to his carriage, was the silent influence of her face. The
startling contrast between the corpse-like pallor of her complexion and
the overpowering life and light, the glittering metallic brightness in her
large black eyes, held him literally spell-bound. She was dressed in
dark colours, with perfect taste; she was of middle height, and
(apparently) of middle age--say a year or two over thirty. Her lower
features--the nose, mouth, and chin-- possessed the fineness and
delicacy of form which is oftener seen among women of foreign races
than among women of English birth. She was unquestionably a
handsome person--with the one serious drawback of her ghastly
complexion, and with the less noticeable defect of a total want of
tenderness in the expression of her eyes. Apart from his first emotion of
surprise, the feeling she produced in the Doctor may be described as an
overpowering feeling of professional curiosity. The case might prove to
be something entirely new in his professional experience. 'It looks like
it,' he thought; 'and it's worth waiting for.'
She perceived that she she had produced a strong impression of some
kind upon him, and dropped her hold on his arm.
'You have comforted many