The day was growing darker, and an electric lamp burned before the entrance.
But no one came out to receive them.
Uncle John climbed out and read the sign.

"Hotel du Vesuve." It was the establishment he had been advised to stop at while in Naples.

He compared the sign with a card which he drew from his pocket, and knew that he had made no mistake.
Entering the spacious lobby, he found it deserted.

In the office a man was hastily making a package of some books and papers and did not respond or even look up when spoken to.

At the concierge's desk a big, whiskered man sat staring straight ahead of him with a look of abject terror in his eyes.
"Good morning," said Uncle John.