The Man at the Carlton by Edgar Wallace — Read

TIM came back to the Carlton just as the palm court was filling with diners. He went up by elevator. His room was a dozen paces along the corridor. He unlocked the sitting-room door, stepped in and automatically put out his hand for the light switch. There was a click but no light. He tried the second; again the switch turned without producing any result. Fused, probably, he thought.

There was another light switch near the door of his bedroom.