said. A half minute later he returned with,
"Sorry, sir. There is no Farrow registered. Could I have mis-heard you?"

"No, goddammit," I snarled. "It's Farrow. F as in Frank; A as in Arthur;
Double R as in Robert Robert; O as in Oliver; and W as in Washington. I
saw her register, I went with her and the bellhop to her room, Number
913, and saw her installed. Then the same 'hop took me up to my room in
1224 on the Twelfth."

There was another moment of silence. Then he said, "You're Mr. Cornell.
Registered in Room 1224 last night approximately four minutes after
midnight."

"I know all about me. I was there and did it myself. And if I registered
at four after midnight, Miss Farrow must have registered about two after
midnight because the ink was still wet on her card when I wrote my name.
We came in together, we were travelling together. Now, what gives?"

"I wouldn't know, sir. We have no guest named Farrow."

"See here," I snapped, "did you ever have a guest named Farrow?"

"Not in the records I have available at this desk. Perhaps in the past
there may have been--"

"Forget the past. What about the character in 913?"

The registration clerk returned and informed me coldly, "Room 913 has
been occupied by a Mr. Horace Westfield for over three months, Mr.
Cornell. There is no mistake." His voice sounded professionally
sympathetic, and I knew that he would forget my troubles as soon as his
telephone was put back on its hook.

"Forget it," I snapped and hung up angrily. Then I went towards the
elevators, walking in a sort of dream-like daze. There was a cold lump
of something concrete hard beginning to form in the pit of my stomach.
Wetness ran down my spine and a drop of sweat dropped from my armpit and
hit my body a few inches above my belt like a pellet of icy hail. My
face felt cold but when I wiped it with the palm of a shaking hand I
found it beaded with an oily sweat. Everything seemed unreally
horrifying.

"Nine," I told the elevator operator in a voice that sounded far away
and hoarse.

I wondered whether this might not be a very vivid dream, and maybe if I
went all the way back to my room, took a short nap, and got up to start
all over again, I would awaken to honest reality.

The elevator stopped at Nine and I walked the corridor that was familiar
from last night. I rapped on the door of Room 913.

The door opened and a big stubble-faced gorilla gazed out and snarled at
me: "Are you the persiste