irst floor, could be reserved for
him, in the event of its being vacant at the time.

The manager paused to consider, before he issued his directions.

The re-numbered room had been last let to a French gentleman. It would
be occupied on the day of Mr. Francis Westwick's arrival, but it would
be empty again on the day after. Would it be well to reserve the room
for the special occupation of Mr. Francis? and when he had passed the
night unsuspiciously and comfortably in 'No. 13 A,' to ask him in the
presence of witnesses how he liked his bedchamber? In this case, if
the reputation of the room happened to be called in question again, the
answer would vindicate it, on the evidence of a member of the very
family which had first given Number Fourteen a bad name. After a
little reflection, the manager decided on trying the experiment, and
directed that '13 A' should be reserved accordingly.

On the next day, Francis Westwick arrived in excellent spirits.

He had signed agreements with the most popular dancer in Italy; he had
transferred the charge of Mrs. Norbury to his brother Henry, who had
joined him in Milan; and he was now at full liberty to amuse himself by
testing in every possible way the extraordinary influence exercised
over his relatives by the new hotel. When his brother and sister first
told him what their experience had been, he instantly declared that he
would go to Venice in the interest of his theatre. The circumstances
related to him contained invaluable hints for a ghost-drama. The title
occurred to him in the railway: 'The Haunted Hotel.' Post that in red
letters six feet high, on a black ground, all over London--and trust
the excitable public to crowd into the theatre!

Received with the politest attention by the manager, Francis met with a
disappointment on entering the hotel. 'Some mistake, sir. No such
room on the first floor as Number Fourteen. The room bearing that
number is on the second floor, and has been occupied by me, from the
day when the hotel opened. Perhaps you meant number 13 A, on the first
floor? It will be at your service to-morrow--a charming room. In the
mean time, we will do the best we can for you, to-night.'

A man who is the successful manager of a theatre is probably the last
man in the civilized universe who is capable of being impressed with
favourable opinions of his fellow-creatures. Francis privately set the
manager down as a humbug, and the story about the numbering of