"Not to my knowledge," I said.
"He occupies room No. 11 in this hotel," he went on. "This is 16, therefore he must be quite near you."
"But who's the visitor?"
"A friend of Goldstein's. Downstairs you can discover his name."
I descended and found that on the previous evening there had certainly arrived at the hotel a Mr. William Smith, who occupied room No. 11.
But how was Ray aware of it?
I returned to my room, and found him staring out of the window into the roadway below. I saw that he was unusually agitated.
"My dear Jack," he said, turning to me when I told him the name of the occupant of No. 11, "how horribly stuffy this room is! Do you never have the window open?"
"Of course," I said, crossing to open it as usual. But I found that it had been jammed down tightly, and that felt had been placed in the crevices by the hotel people to exclude the draught.
Ray noticed it, and a curious smile crossed his aquiline countenance.