I let myself into Room 99, and found myself mildly impressed that the bed wasn’t motheaten (in fact it looked rather inviting), the carpet didn’t squelch (it looked like it belonged in a palace), and, to my reluctant delight, that there was a rather comfortable-looking armchair in the far corner. It was one of those winged armchairs, upholstered in a deep red velvet. And it was even flanked by a strategically placed reading lamp! Most impressive!

My fatigue taking over, I strode over to the chair, depositing my satchel on the bed en route, & gratefully collapsed into it. I took a deep breath, hoping to relax for the first time all day.

However, that hope fled as quickly as it had come.

I’m not sure which was more unsettling: the fact that as I sank back I felt the slight click of a mechanism, and before I could react something in the chair had tightly lashed me to the upholstery with thick black cords, or that the slender, sallow, sinisterly-smirking landlord had decided to pay me a visit.