I watched them curiously.
"What is that ?" I asked the reception clerk who was on duty.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"It was a man who died here the day before yesterday," he whispered in my ear.
"Died here ?" I repeated.

"Why are they taking his coffin down at such an hour ?" "It is always done," the man assured me.

"In hotels such as this, where all is life and gayety, our clients do not care to be reminded of such an ugly thing as death.

Half the people on that floor would have left if they had known that the dead body of a man has been lying there.

We keep these things very secret.