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that I did not have a ticket, only the letter. True, I had had a ticket
when I first arrived by train, I said, but had discarded it at the
station, and I doubted it was the sort of ticket he wanted anyway.
Wouldn't the letter suffice? "A ticket, I need a ticket," he grumbled.
"A letter is not a ticket, nor a ticket a letter. I would expect you
as a lettered man to know that." Those were his exact words; he would
not elaborate further. When I repeated that I had no ticket, he gave
a terrible roar, thrust a gnarled and mossy arm from the knothole,
and flung me down the stairs. I am afraid it will be some days, perhaps a week, before I can return to the property, as I am now confined to bed owing to injuries suffered in the fall. Since taking to bed I have also found my rest disturbed by a curious change in my rooms. Every piece of wood has sprung shoots and begun to put out leaves - the bureau, the floor-boards, the planks of the walls, the beams of the 
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ceiling, all
are covering themselves in new foliage. At night the rustling of its
growth is so loud that I cannot sleep. The innkeeper refuses to take
the matter seriously; on the contrary, he seems to regard my predicament
as some sort of joke. I have heard his laugh in the hall outside my
doors, and I suspect he is spying on me through knotholes in the walls.
But it cannot remain a joke much longer, as the room will soon be
too overgrown for habitation. I have decided I must find new quarters. In short, progress has been slow; indeed, I am not certain that there has been any progress at all. I await your instructions.  |
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