Young Billy Weaver reached Bath at nine o'clock in the evening. The air was terribly cold, and the icy wind burned my cheeks. He needed to wait out the night to move on. It was a long walk to the hotel, so he decided to stay at a boarding house. The hostess was forty-five or fifty years old, and as soon as she saw him, she smiled warmly and welcomingly at him. The hostess asked him to sign the guest book, and Billy was embarrassed that the entries were made at intervals of a year and a half. And the names of the previous guests were suspiciously familiar to him. But the overnight rate of five shillings and sixpence, including breakfast, was fantastically low. Why did it happen? © ozor