Dear List,
Sometime ago there was a posting inquiring about Ada´s reference to room number 222.
‘I had hoped you’d sleep here,’ said Marina (not really caring one way or another). ‘What is your room number at the hotel — not 222 by any chance?’She liked romantic coincidences. Demon consulted the tag on his key: 221 — which was good enough, fatidically and anecdotically speaking.
At that time I could only recall Transparent Things where we find 313 ( number one held as a prisoner ):
He saw a very black 313 on a very white door and recalled instantly how he had told Armande (who had promised to visit him and did not wish to be announced): "Mnemonically it should be imagined as three little figures in profile, a prisoner passing by with one guard in front of him and another behind." ( Transparent Things ).
Now I can forward, again from Ada, a reference to 414.
He left the balcony and ran down a short spiral staircase to the fourth floor. In the pit of his stomach there sat the suspicion that it might not be room 410, as he conjectured, but 412 or even 414, What would happen if she had not understood, was not on the lookout? She had, she was.
In the slow clear hand of crime I wrote: Dr. Edgar H. Humbert and daughter, 342 Lawn Street, Ramsdale. A key (342!) was half-shown to me (magician showing object he is about to palm) — and handed over to Uncle Tom. Lo, leaving the dog as she would leave me some day, rose from her haunches; a raindrop fell on Charlotte's grave; (...)
— I would
let myself into that "342" and find my nymphet, my beauty and bride, imprisoned
in her crystal sleep. Jurors! If my happiness could have talked, it would have
filled that genteel hotel with a deafening roar. And my only regret today is
that I did not quietly deposit key "342" at the office, and leave the town, the
country, the continent, the hemisphere, — indeed, the globe — that very same
night.
Thanks, Jansy