WHAT'S TO BE DONE?
An Imbecile.
On the morning of the eleventh of July, 1856, the attachés of one of the principal hotels in St. Petersburg, situated near the Moscow railway station, became greatly perplexed and even somewhat alarmed. The night before, after eight o'clock, a traveller had arrived, carrying a valise, who, after having given up his passport that it might be taken to the police to be viséed, had ordered a cutlet and some tea, and then, pleading fatigue and need of sleep as a pretext, had asked that he might be disturbed no further, notifying them at the same time to awaken him without fail at exactly eight o'clock in the morning, as he had pressing business.
As soon as he was alone, he had locked his door. For a while was heard the noise of the knife, fork, and tea-service; then all became silent again: the man doubtless had gone to sleep.
In the morning, at eight o'clock, the waiter did not fail to knock at the new-comer's door.
But the new-comer did not respond. The waiter knocked louder, and louder yet. Still the new-comer did not respond: he probably was very tired. The waiter waited a quarter of an hour, then began again to knock and call, but with no better success. Then he went to consult the other waiters and the butler.
"May not something have happened to the traveller?"
"We must burst open the door," he concluded.
"No," said another, "the door can be burst open only in presence of the police."
They decided to try once more, and with greater energy, to awaken the obstinate traveller, and, in case they should not succeed, to send for the police. Which they had to do. While waiting for the police, they looked at each other anxiously, saying: "What can have happened?"
Towards ten o'clock the commissioner of police arrived; he began by knocking at the door himself, and then ordered the waiters to knock a last time. The same success.
"There is nothing left but to burst open the door," said the official; "do so, my friends."
