He wanted to hide himself and yet at the same time he wanted to look to see if she was the one who was coming.
The guests occupying the same floor kept seeing him withdraw into his room in the most inexplicable attitudes.

Sometimes he would remain firmly in the corridor as though, worn out with useless calling, he were looking for the domestics; and at other times they surprised him with his head poking out of the half-open door or hastily withdrawing it.

An old Italian count, passing by, gave him a smile of intelligence and comradeship....

He was in the secret! The man was undoubtedly waiting for one of the maids of the hotel.
He ended by settling himself in his room, but leaving his door ajar.
The rectangle of bright light that it marked on the floor and wall opposite would guide Freya, showing her the way....
But he was not able to keep up this signal very long.

Scantily clad dames in kimonos and gentlemen in pyjamas were slipping discreetly down the passage way in soft, slipper-clad silence, all going in the same direction, and casting wrathful glances toward the lighted doorway.
Finally he had to close the door.