The Man with the Clubfoot (Paperback)

The reception clerk looked up from the hotel register and shook his head firmly. "Very sorry, saire," he said, "not a bed in ze house." And he closed the book with a snap. Outside the rain came down heavens hard. Every one who came into the brightly lit hotel vestibule entered with a gush of water. I felt I would rather die than face the wind-swept streets of Rotterdam again. I turned once more to the clerk who was now busy at the key-rack. "Haven't you really a corner? I wouldn't mind where it was, as it is only for the night. Come now..." "Very sorry, saire. We have two gentlemen sleeping in ze bathrooms already. If you had reserved..." And he shrugged his shoulders and bent towards a visitor who was demanding his key. I turned away with rage in my heart. What a cursed fool I had been not to wire from Groningen I had fully intended to, but the extraordinary conversation I had had with Dicky Allerton had put everything else out of my head. At every hotel I had tried it had been the same story-Cooman's, the Maas, the Grand, all were full even to the bathrooms. If I had only wired....