“Ah, there you are,” says Mr Mollusc as I climb the steps to the great revolving hotel doors. I’m amazed to see him holding the mighty iron hotel key in one hand. “So good of you to finally show up for work, boy. Just as we’re closing.”
“We’re closing?” I ask, ignoring his sarcastic tone. “But I thought the Grand Nautilus Hotel never closes.”
“It doesn’t,” he says. “But with the storm returning, Lady Kraken has asked me to lock the doors and shutter the windows. It seems we are to become a fortress against the weather.”
I look out across the bay. Sure enough, the cloud bank has swollen to fill half the sky, and the angry boom of approaching thunder is already making the cobbles shake. The storm is bearing down once again on the already battered town.
“Does that mean,” I ask, spotting a silver lining in all this gloom, “that no one will be able to get in?”
I’m still thinking of the alarming things I overheard the fishermen wanting to do to me, and the idea of the hotel doors being locked overnight is suddenly very appealing.
“Guests will be able to come in,” says Mr Mollusc, “by ringing the bell. But all the guests are accounted for in their rooms. Except one.”
And he gives a shudder that would tell me exactly which guest, even if I didn’t know it already.
“You’ve picked quite a day for your little holiday, Lemon,” Mr Mollusc continues, marching me through the revolving doors.
“Holiday?”
“I have it on good authority that you’ve been absent from your post all day. Lolling about in Seegol’s Diner, I suppose, with that annoying girl. It will be reported to Her Ladyship, of course. And it will be deducted from your pay. Now, get back to work!” And he propels me into the hotel lobby.
Lolling about?
Annoying girl?
Pay?
“Mr Mollusc,” I say, drawing myself up to my full height so that I can stare the man straight in the waistcoat button. “I have been out on important Lost-and-Founder business, on The Case of the Fish-Shaped Bottle, which Lady Kraken herself gave me. There has been no lolling.”
“You could have fooled me,” Mollusc replies, his ridiculous moustache twitching in disgust as he casts his eye over my soggy and battered uniform. “And take your hand off your cap, boy. You look like a little teapot, short and stout.”
“But the elastic broke, sir, and—”
“Never mind that.” Mr Mollusc locks the revolving doors behind us. Then he turns back to me and waggles the key in my face. “I said, remove your hand.”
“But, sir…”
“Do it!” Mr Mollusc snaps, his chins quivering with bad temper. “Now!”
Slowly I lift my hand off my cap and try to hide my panic behind a grin. I can feel my scalp crawling with electrical charge as the sprightning begins to fizz.
Mr Mollusc, still waggling the iron key in front of my nose as he starts to tell me off again, stops speaking. His eyes goggle at my quivering cap.
“What the…?”
There’s a flash of faz-aaap! and a ka-ka-BOOM! of localized thunder as my cap flies straight up into the air. A miniature bolt of lightning leaps into the key, crackling up Mr Mollusc’s arm and down into his trousers. His moustache frizzes up like a bottlebrush, and the hair he combs over his head springs straight upright. The manager of the Grand Nautilus Hotel goes stiff as a board and falls over backwards in a puff of smoke.
I catch my cap, jam it back down over the light on my head, and stroll to my cubbyhole, only just remembering to bring the grin with me. Amber Griss, the hotel receptionist, is staring at me open-mouthed.
“Just a little static build-up,” I call over to her, pointing at my feet. “New shoes!”
Then I fling up the counter in my cubbyhole and run down into my cellar.
SIDEKICKS AND SATSUMAS
VIOLET’S ALREADY DOWN THERE, lighting a fire. Her technique for doing this is to push screwed-up newspaper and kindling into the iron wood burner, higgledy-piggledy, and then throw in as many matches as it takes for the thing to catch alight. I’ve arrived at the now-shove-in-a-couple-of-logs-and-hope-for-the-best stage, so it’s too late for me to say anything.
“The hotel doors are locked,” I announce. “And my cubbyhole is closed. I’ve even pulled down the grille and locked it. The only way into the cellar now is by the window, and that’s too small for any fisherman to fit through. My Lost-and-Foundery is the securest place in all of Eerie-on-Sea. We’re safe here.”
“I’m sorry, Herbie,” Violet says quietly.
“Huh?” I say.
“I shouldn’t have pushed you into consulting the mermonkey. I think I still have a bit to learn about the book dispensary.”
“Pushed me?” I reply. “Tricked me, more like.”
Violet looks sheepish for once, so I let it go. I toss my ruined Lost-and-Founder’s cap in the repairs basket and take another from the peg. But I don’t put it on just yet. Released, the sprightning flutters around, but, as ever, it always seems to end up sparkling just above my head.
The brass arm and bolt from the clockwork hermit crab is gone from my desk, as expected. Did someone sneak in and take those parts? Or did the hermit crab come and collect them for itself? I prefer the second option, to be honest. That mechanical shell somehow doesn’t seem to belong to the horrible world of Deep Hood. I wonder how the tentacled man came by it.
Violet falls back into my big tatty armchair on one side of the fire, and I flop down into the beanbag on the other. I pick up a bowl of odd satsumas – Chef often leaves misshapen fruit out for me – and throw one to Vi. The wind gusts outside as the storm bears down, but in the window of my wood burner, the fire begins to roar, and it’s good to be home.
“For a moment back there,” Violet says, peeling her satsuma, “when you let go of me, I thought…”
“Ah,” I reply. “Then you thought wrong. You’re my sidekick, Vi. I’d never leave you in the lurch.”
“Wait, I’m not your sidekick.” Violet throws a piece of peel at me. “You’re my sidekick!”
“No, I’m not!” I throw a piece back. “I’m the Sherlock Holmes around here. You’re the Watson.”
“I’m not the Watson!” Vi shouts, laughing. “Who wants to be the Watson?”
“Well, if you’re the Sherlock, sherlock me this: who do you think Deep Hood is?”
Violet pops a piece of fruit in her mouth.
“I thought Deep Hood was hiding his face so he couldn’t be recognized,” she says after a thoughtful chew, “but after what we’ve seen…”
I nod. “He’s got something more shocking than his identity to hide,” I say. “Anyone who can shoot tentacles out of his face is probably not very lovely to look at. I expect he wears that hood just so he can go about in public.”
“He must be hideous!” Violet agrees.
“Thing is, though,” I continue, after another chew of satsuma, “what are they actually doing wrong, Vi? Deep Hood and the fishermen, I mean.”
“What?” Violet stares at me. “Apart from chasing us this morning? Apart from attacking us on the boat? Apart from saying you should have a ‘little accident’?”
I wince.
“OK, apart from all that. I just mean that the fishermen sound as if they are planning to stop Gargantis. And if Gargantis, whatever it actually is, is trying to destroy Eerie-on-Sea, are they wrong to want to hunt it? It nearly destroyed the town a thousand years ago. Maybe Deep Hood and the fishermen are right to try to finish the job properly.”
Vi shakes her head.
“It’s not right, Herbie,” she says. “Did Deep Hood sound genuinely concerned about the town to you? No, we’re missing something, something important. And besides, since when did drunken sailors making secret plans in smoky rooms over chests of gold ever end well?”
She’s right, of course. And anyway, nothing that involves a whaling cannon with explosive spears can possibly be good.
“Whoever Deep Hood is
,” Violet continues, “he knows a lot about the legend of Saint Dismal. More even than the fishermen, it seems. Maybe even as much as…”
Then she stares at me.
“Old Squint Westerley?” I say, following her train of thought. “Surely you don’t think… But Deep Hood can’t be Squint Westerley, Vi. Blaze saw them both at the same time.”
Violet shrugs, but I can tell she knows I’m right. Then she grabs her coat and pulls out the large piece of paper she’s been copying Eerie Script onto. She unfolds it across her lap.
“I just wish we could read the secret writing!” she cries in frustration. “I’m sure the answer to all of this is locked in there somewhere.”
She stares down at the paper on her knees, as if trying to decipher the code with sheer mental force. Then she ruffles up her hair in frustration and sinks back into the chair.
“It’s no good. I just don’t get it, Herbie.”
I’m about to remind her that even Dr Thalassi can’t decipher Eerie Script, despite years of trying, but I’m interrupted by a loud KLANG-KLANG! from somewhere up in Reception.
“What’s that?” says Violet. “A ship’s bell?”
“That,” I say, putting my satsuma down, “is the doorbell of the Grand Nautilus Hotel. Someone’s ringing to be let in.”
“Who? A guest?”
I get up and pull on the fresh Lost-and-Founder’s cap, taking care to scoop the sprightning inside. It’s not my job to answer the door, but I feel a little better looking smart and ready anyway. I know who this guest will be.
Deep Hood has returned.
SECRET BUTTONS
AS SILENTLY AS I CAN, I pad up the stairs to my cubbyhole in the lobby and crouch down in the shadow behind the counter. Violet crouches down beside me. Together we peer over – just as we did at the start of this adventure – though this time the lobby is empty. Empty, that is, except for Amber Griss, who is standing behind the enormous wooden reception desk, and Mr Mollusc, who is standing beside her. His moustache is still bushy after his shock earlier. And his eyes are filled with dread.
KLANG-KLANG!
The bell sounds again.
Mr Mollusc sets out across the marble floor with a hesitant tread. But then he stumbles to a halt. The enormous key in his hand starts trembling.
“Miss Griss, p-please see to our guest,” he says, turning back to Amber. “Come along, now. Don’t keep him waiting.”
And he holds out the key with a trembling hand.
Amber throws the hotel manager a narrow look through her severe spectacles, then comes clip-clopping from behind the desk. She takes the key and walks over to the revolving doors. The Mollusc follows, keeping safely behind her.
Amber turns the key and the doors begin to revolve.
Deep Hood stalks into the building, his hood drooping, the metal-bound box swinging, as ever, at his side.
“Forgive us, sir.” Mr Mollusc bows excessively. “We only locked the doors against the storm. We are pleased to have you safely back inside our hotel.”
And Mr Mollusc leers a desperate grin that says he’s not really pleased at all.
“I must see the owner of the hotel,” says Deep Hood in his careful, slippery speech. “Immediately.”
“L-Lady Kraken?” Mr Mollusc goes so pale he’s almost see-through. “But I have already requested that Her Ladyship sees you, and she has declined. She so rarely sees anyone…”
The pink tentacle snakes out from the hood and seizes the terrified hotel manager’s tie. He is yanked in close to the gaping hood.
“Tell Lady Kraken this…” Deep Hood says, but his voice trails off to a whisper that we can’t hear from our hiding place.
Then he retracts the tentacle with a hiss. I don’t even think Amber saw it, it was all so quick. But Mr Mollusc has seen more than enough.
“V-very well!” he cries in a terrified yelp. And he leads Deep Hood to the great bronze elevator, leaving Amber Griss to lock the doors again.
“What was all that about?” says Vi as we creep back downstairs.
“I think,” I say, “that what all that was about was me!”
“Do you think she’ll see him?” Vi asks. “Lady Kraken seems perfectly capable of saying no to some stranger knocking on her door.”
“Yes, but Lady K also loves a good mystery,” I reply. “And Deep Hood radiates the stuff. She’ll see him in the end.”
“Then it’s a shame that we can’t be there when she does.” Violet plants her hands on her hips. “I’d love to be a fly on the wall when that happens. Imagine what we could find out!”
“I can’t make you a fly on the wall, Vi,” I say, hardly believing what I’m about to say next. “But I might be able to make you a dust mote on the ceiling.”
Violet squints at me.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I sigh. I really don’t want to do this, but Vi’s right – we do need to know more, and this might be our best chance.
“There is a way to see what’s going on in Lady Kraken’s chambers. But you have to promise me you won’t make a sound, Vi. Last time we tried eavesdropping you started shouting at the eavesdroppees, and we nearly got tentacled to death.”
“Don’t remind me!” Violet shudders. “OK, I promise, Herbie. No sound. I’ll make no sound at all.”
A minute or so later, Violet and I are crossing the lobby towards the hotel elevator. Amber Griss raises one curious eyebrow at me as I appear, but both her eyebrows rocket skyward when she spots Violet coming out of my Lost-and-Foundery just behind. I have to use my cheekiest grin.
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” says Amber with a wink, and she starts shuffling papers as if she hasn’t seen a thing.
Amber’s definitely on Team Herbie. It’s good there’s at least one adult around who looks out for me without asking questions all the time.
We step into the elevator, and the polished doors glide shut behind us. Inside, on a gleaming panel covered in decorative dimples, are six numbered buttons:
One for each floor of the hotel.
“Which one do we press?” says Vi. “I’ve never been in the hotel lift before. Isn’t it shiny!”
“It is shiny,” I agree. “But these buttons are for the guests. Watch this…”
Arranging the fingers of both hands, I reach over and press all six buttons at the same time. There’s an electronic whirring from inside the panel, and one of the decorative dimples spins around to reveal a hidden button. On that button, in tiny letters, it says:
“That’s where Lady Kraken lives,” I explain. “She has the whole floor to herself, and she does not encourage visitors.”
“Let’s go, then,” says Vi, reaching out to press the button. But I catch her arm.
“We can’t. Mr Mollusc will be there right now, escorting Deep Hood to her rooms. We need to go here…”
And I rearrange my fingers so that I simultaneously press only buttons one, three and five. Annoyingly, though, my fingers slip, and when the first secret button vanishes and another flips into view, I’m surprised to see:
“Oh,” says Vi. “Is that where we’re going?”
“Er, no, I made a mistake. I’ve never seen that one before. Hold on…”
And I press the buttons again, correctly this time. Yet another secret button appears, bearing red capital letters:
“Ooh!” Violet gasps. “Where does that go?”
“Press it and see,” I say.
“Really?”
And I nod.
So Violet does.
AN ALL-SEEING EYE
“WHERE ARE WE?” says Violet as the doors slide open to reveal darkness. I shush her.
“This is the attic of the hotel,” I whisper. “It’s above Lady Kraken’s chambers, and it is strictly off limits. We’ll have to tiptoe from here.”
“But we can’t see anything.”
I reach into my pocket and pull out a small key ring torch. It’s been in my Lost-and-Foundery for years, so I ne
ed to be careful with it. Its owner may yet come back. But for now, its narrow beam of light is just the discreet illumination we need. We step out of the lift, straight onto dusty floorboards.
“There are things here,” says Vi, with unease in her voice. “Things in the shadows.”
“Watch your step,” I reply. “The attic is full of stuff the Kraken family have collected over generations.”
I swing the torch around, and its beam picks out carved ceremonial masks, a suit of Japanese armour, a large ornate wardrobe, something like a framed mirror with a cloth over it and a stuffed polar bear with claws and teeth bared. An Egyptian sarcophagus is propped against a life-sized model of a tiger that appears to have some sort of clockwork mechanism. The tiger’s eye flashes at us, and I see that the sarcophagus is slightly open. I flick the torch back at the ground and manage not to squeak as I say, “Let’s not dawdle.”
“This is amazing!” Violet declares, louder than she should. The floorboards creak, despite our best efforts. “I bet Dr Thalassi would give his right eyebrow to get hold of this lot for the museum.”
“Probably,” I reply, “but I don’t think the doc knows what’s up here. I doubt even Lady K knows any more. Anyway, what we’ve come for is over there.”
And I flick the torch beam down the long, narrow attic space.
Its light pings off a brass railing up ahead. There’s a faint glow of light down there too.
“What is it?”
But I put my finger to my lips, and lead on.
The railing surrounds an opening in the exact middle of the attic floor. It’s the top of a spiral staircase. Faint light is spilling up from below, from the corridor that leads to the Jules Verne Suite – Lady Kraken’s private residence. And we can hear, from down where Lady K’s front door is, the faint whine of Mr Mollusc’s voice.
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