The Broken Pitcher

wasn't a hotel bedroom at all. He studied it fairly closely. It was an entirelystrange room with very little furniture in it. a kind of cupboard (what he'd taken for the wardrobe) and a window with flowered curtains through whichthe light came. A chair and a table and a chest of drawers. Really, that was about all.
　　"Dear me," said CanonPennyfather, "this is most odd. Where am I?"
　　He was thinking of getting up to investigate butwhen he sat up in bed his headache began again so he lay down.
　　"I must have been ill," decided Canon Pennyfather. "Yes, definitely Imust have been ill," He thought a minute or two and then saidto himself, "As a matter of fact, I think perhaps I'm still ill. Influenza, perhaps? Influenza, people often said, came on verysuddenly. Perhaps – perhaps it had come on at dinner at theAthenaeum. Yes that was right. He remembered that he had dined at the Athenaeum."