by Peter Bunzl
They opened each door in turn and poked their heads around them, finding first a bathroom with wall-to-wall marble that looked good enough for the gods of Mount Olympus, then two bedrooms, each containing a king-sized bed and a polished rosewood wardrobe the size of a mausoleum.
Finally, there was an even larger bedroom that was decorated with the bright, flowery wallpaper of a nursery, which contained three child-sized beds.
Instead of a window, behind its curtains, the room had French doors that led onto a snowy balcony. Beyond the high balustrade, Robert could make out the snow-strafed buildings on the far side of the street.
“This room shares a wall with suite one hundred next door,” the concierge explained. “So there might be some noise. But that’s a nursery room too, so your neighbour will most likely be that kid you saw. He seems the silent type, if you ask me!” He laughed.
Robert wondered if the concierge ought to be gossiping about guests.
“Well,” said John. “One of you will have to take this room. What do you think, Lily? It is the biggest, and Robert will probably have to move in here as well when Selena and Caddy arrive tomorrow…”
“I—” Lily clutched her basket close to her chest. She seemed about to argue – it was what she’d normally do. And who could blame her? Robert knew Lily didn’t like it when John did anything to suggest she was still his little girl.
But, after some consideration, Lily said, “All right. I’ll take it.”
“Splendid!” John replied. “Then Robert and I can each take one of the other two.”
Robert wondered if the balcony was the reason Lily had agreed so readily to taking the nursery room. Then he remembered that special and particular scheming look she had got in her eyes when the concierge mentioned it abutting the Milksops’ room – it had to be something to do with that.
But what?
The mechanical porter arrived and deposited their trunks in each of their rooms. “You folks have a nice vacation,” he said. And when he and the concierge had finally disappeared, and Papa had gone to take off his own coat and inspect his room, Robert was finally able to ask Lily what was going on.
“I need to tell you and Malkin together,” Lily said, tipping the fox out of the basket.
Somehow Malkin managed to right himself quickly so that he fell with four legs outwards, like a cat, and ended up standing on the floor.
“About time!” he complained. “My joints were getting stiff in there. I thought I would be stuck scrunched up for ever with your old sweet wrappers and handkerchiefs.”
“No time for grousing, Malkin,” Lily admonished. “I need to tell you and Robert something about the boy in the lobby.”
“Dane Milksop?” Robert asked, taking off his cap and running a hand through his mop of unruly black hair. “He looked rather unhappy.”
“Probably didn’t want to be on holiday with that awful aunt of his,” Malkin said, shaking out his brush.
“It was more than that,” Lily said. “Dane mouthed something at me as he was leaving. I think it might have been Help me.”
“Are you sure?” Malkin asked. “That seems a tad odd.”
“I’m not making it up,” Lily snapped.
“I never said you were,” the fox yapped back.
“That mechanical, Miss Buckle, was holding onto Dane rather tightly,” Robert said. “A bit too tightly, if you ask me… And what about Professor Milksop’s wooden case?” he added. “The one she had handcuffed to her wrist, with that drawing of a snake on its side, eating its own tail. Have you ever seen anything so creepy? What do you think’s in there?”
“Snakes?” Malkin suggested. “Lots of them. Sliming about over one another and eating their own tails.” He scrunched up his snout in disgust.
“She had that same symbol tattooed on her wrist,” Lily told them. “I saw it when she shook Papa’s hand.”
Robert gave a shudder. “So I assume we’re going to investigate?” he asked. “Try to speak to Dane on his own?”
Lily nodded. “But don’t tell Papa. He won’t believe any of it.”
“Won’t believe what?” John asked, stepping back through from the lounge with a folder of papers under his arm that contained his speech.
“Nothing,” Lily said.
“We were just saying how unbelievably hungry we are,” Robert said.
“Hungry enough to eat our own tails,” Malkin added, though the truth was he didn’t eat at all, being a mechanical.
“Then let’s adjourn to the dining room,” John suggested. “I think they’re still serving.”
“That sounds a grand idea,” Malkin barked, his tongue lolling out excitedly. He jumped down from the bed, slipped through Papa’s legs, headed across the lounge and bounced up at the main door of the suite, scratching at it with his claws and making awful pining sounds.
“STAY! MALKIN! STAY!” Papa admonished, chasing after him, papers flying everywhere. “Foxes and fine dining don’t mix.” He yanked the fox back by the scruff of his neck and deposited him by the fire. “You wait here,” he said, tapping the mechanimal brusquely on the snout.
“Oh, what joy!” the fox snapped snottily, looking down his nose at John. He licked a few stray pages of the speech that had fallen at his feet.
“We’ll take you for walkies tomorrow, I promise.” John rushed around picking up his papers as quickly as possible before the angry fox had a chance to start chewing them.
“It’s all right, Malkin,” Lily whispered, picking up her basket as Papa wedged his folder back under his arm and opened the suite’s front door. “I’ll sneak you in. You can help us keep an eye out for Dane.”
“Good-o!” Malkin jumped into the basket, while Robert stood in the way so that John wouldn’t see what was going on – but it wasn’t necessary, for he had already stepped into the corridor. Lily hid the basket behind her back, then she and Robert walked a few steps behind Papa, so he wouldn’t realize what they were up to and send Malkin back before they arrived at dinner.
“Good evening,” the maître d’ greeted them as they stepped into the dining room. He was only the second human they’d seen working in the hotel and had a friendly, lived-in face with a broad freckle-spattered nose and tight white curls that were plastered to his head with pomade. “You must be Professor Hartman, Miss Hartman and Master Townsend.”
“Yes,” said Lily. “How did you know?”
The maître d’ smiled. “Apart from Master Milksop, you’re the only other children currently staying in the hotel. Would you like me to put your papers in the cloakroom, Sir?” he asked Papa.
“No, thank you,” Papa said. “They’re rather vital. I have to work on them at dinner.”
“And your handbag, Miss Hartman?” the maître d’ asked, reaching for the basket hidden behind Lily’s back.
Papa gave a sigh of angry frustration. “You haven’t brought him with you as well, have you?” He stared down pointedly at the lumpy shape beneath the blanket in Lily’s basket. “Well, you tell him to stay hidden and quiet!”
“I will.” Lily tucked the basket tighter under her arm and gave the rather confused maître d’ her most innocent look. “I’d rather keep hold of this, thanks. It contains…important stuff too.”
“Very good.” The maître d’ was still at rather a loss as to what was going on, but he turned smoothly like he was a mechanical on oiled castors, and led them through a dining room packed with smartly dressed, chattering guests. “I have a table for you in the family section. That should be quieter and more amenable than the main dining lounge.”
Robert had never been anywhere quite so imposing. It was grander than the dining rooms at Brackenbridge Manor, the London Mechanists’ Guild and the Firefly airship all put together. The walls were hung with boughs of holly and ivy and red Christmas ribbons, and the ceiling was ablaze with crystal chandeliers that illuminated plates and plates of exotic-looking dishes.
“This hotel was one of the first in New York to get di
rect current electricity,” the maître d’ explained as he showed them to their table.
“That’s right!” said Papa, suddenly interested. “Didn’t it come from Edison’s power station on Pearl Street, near the Brooklyn Bridge?”
“Correct, Sir.” The maître d’ pulled out an elegantly-carved oak chair for him, and another each for Robert and Lily. “Though that station burned down. Now we’re powered by General Electric, and Mr Tesla’s technology.” He flicked their napkins out and dropped them on their laps. Then, with a modest bow, he returned to the front of house.
“I wish we had electricity at home,” Lily said, tucking Malkin’s basket away beneath her chair. “It seems almost like a magic power. Eventually it could run everything…even mechanicals.” She gave the basket under her seat a kick to warn Malkin not to comment on that.
“Too right,” Robert replied. “I suppose, in the end, it’ll take over completely from gaslight, steam and clockwork.”
“What?” Papa stared up at them from his reading matter. “Oh no, I don’t think so. Not for a long while.”
“Why not?” Lily asked.
“Right now, electricity is far too unpredictable,” Papa said. “Far too dangerous… We’ve barely scratched the surface in discovering what it can do.”
A mechanical waiter brought a carafe of freshly-made lemonade and poured it into three glasses, one for each of them. Then, with a flourish, he presented everyone with a menu.
Robert opened his to find row upon row of dishes he’d never heard of. Thanks to an incomprehensible mishmash of French and English words, he had trouble understanding what anything was. He stared down in consternation at the pile of gold-rimmed plates in front of him and the rows of knives and forks. At least, by now, he was getting used to the armoury of cutlery these places tended to provide.
Finally, Papa read through the choices and ordered for each of them. Bouillon to start with, then baked halibut with potatoes Parisienne for him, and beef à la mode with green peas and mashed potato for Robert and Lily.
While they slurped their bouillon soup, Lily and Robert scanned opposite ends of the dining room for any sign of Dane Milksop.
Lily could not see him at first, and was about to give up looking around her half, when her eyes were drawn to a glamorous black lady in a blue silk gown, who was dining alone at the next table and seemed awfully familiar.
The lady had brightly painted eyes and long lashes, but it was her sparkling, ostentatious gold necklace that had attracted Lily’s attention.
The necklace was in the shape of a snake, which curled around the woman’s neck in a circle, its head and tail meeting just above her breast. In its mouth, between its pointed fangs, the snake held a bright blue diamond. Its golden tail wound around the other side of the diamond, clasping it securely.
Lily perceived with shock that the necklace was the very same symbol that was tattooed on Professor Milksop’s wrist, and stamped on the side of her wooden case!
Subtly, she pointed out the necklace to Robert.
“Who is that lady?” she asked, tugging at Papa’s sleeve. “I recognize her.”
Papa glanced up from his papers. “That’s Miss Aleilia Child,” he said, squinting at the lady. “The famous soprano singer from the new New York Metropolitan Opera. I have some recordings of her in my music collection.”
“I’ve heard those cylinders,” Robert said. “She has a beautiful singing voice.”
“We should all go and see her at the opera sometime,” Malkin whispered from under the table.
“A mechanical fox at the opera,” Lily said. “Whatever next?”
Robert giggled.
“I’ll have you know I’m quite cultured,” Malkin huffed.
“What now?” Papa angrily abandoned his papers. “Malkin, didn’t I tell you to stay hidden and quiet?” He gave an immense and agitated sigh. “Oh, never mind! I give up! On all of you! Just don’t let him be discovered, please.”
“What kind of necklace is it?” Lily asked, changing the subject back to Miss Child.
“It’s an Ouroboros Diamond necklace,” Papa said. “The stone is very expensive. Very rare.”
“As rare as Queen Victoria’s Blood Moon Diamond?” Robert asked, tucking into his beef, which had just arrived.
“Almost.” Papa took a mouthful of fish. “Like Blood Moon Diamonds, Ouroboros Diamonds supposedly have life- and death-giving properties.”
“I wonder where Miss Child got it from?” Lily said. “It looks almost exactly like the symbol on Professor Milksop’s case.”
“Case? What case?” Papa asked.
“Clanking chronometers!” Lily exclaimed. “You really don’t notice anything, do you?”
As she said that, she finally spotted the professor. She was dining with Dane at a table off to their right, partly hidden by wooden screens painted with bright fishes and seaweed. Miss Buckle, the boy’s mechanical nursemaid, stood beside the professor, not eating or talking, just watching Dane and making sure he was behaving himself.
The Milksops had the only screened table, Lily observed. She wondered if Professor Milksop had asked for it to protect her nephew Dane from prying eyes. Or was it actually the other way round – to stop him from seeing anyone or anything.
She nudged Robert and pointed the pair out to him.
Through a gap in the screens, they could just make out Professor Milksop’s wooden case at her feet. The professor kept gently kicking it to check it was still there.
Dane, on the other hand, she was practically ignoring. The boy sat silently opposite her, searching the dining room with an expression of deep unease.
Suddenly, his eyes locked onto Lily’s.
Her heart skipped a tick as he smiled sadly at her.
Help me, he mouthed.
Lily frowned and pinched Robert’s knee under the table, nodding in Dane’s direction.
He watched with Lily as Dane once more mouthed the same words through the gap in the screen:
Help me.
Lily was sure now that the message was meant for the pair of them. After all, they were the only other children in the hotel and the only people paying attention to Dane, while Papa read his papers and everyone else in the dining room sat eating and talking ebulliently.
No. Dane wanted their help specifically. Hers and Robert’s… But why?
Before Lily could observe anything more or speak directly to Robert about what they’d seen, the waiter brought tea and dessert – chocolate meringue puffs – blocking her view of the Milksops’ table. By the time he moved away, Dane was staring fixedly down at his plate.
Lily tucked into her dessert as she thought about the matter. The cocoa was so good it made her taste buds itch, and the nutty spun sugar melted in her mouth like fragments of fluffy cloud. Robert and Papa ate their desserts almost as fast as she did, Robert licking his lips with each bite.
“Delicious!” Papa said when he was finished, and then he stood up and put his napkin on the table. “Now, if you will excuse me, I intend to retire to the smoking room and work a little more on my speech. It’s probably the last chance I’ll get before your mother arrives tomorrow, Robert. Lily, you may stay here with him while the pair of you finish your tea. Malkin, since you’re here, you might as well make yourself useful. Be sure they go straight up to bed after tea. And you’re to go with them.”
“Must I?” the fox complained.
“Of course you must!” Papa said. “We can’t have our feral fox wandering the corridors of a top-drawer hotel. What will people say?”
When Papa was finally gone, Robert, Lily and Malkin huddled together to talk.
Dane hadn’t looked at them again since dessert.
“His aunt and Miss Buckle have been watching him,” Robert said. “But I don’t think Dane’s finished with what he’s trying to tell us.”
“In which case we’d better stay here and wait,” Lily replied. She licked her finger and dabbed it in the remaining cocoa on her plate
.
Robert poured himself more tea from the pot.
And Malkin, aware that no one was looking, chewed the table leg to sharpen his teeth.
A moment later, as Lily and Robert watched the screened table, Dane did something quite extraordinary – especially for a boy who seemed so quiet and withdrawn. With a sweep of his arm, he sent his knife tumbling to the floor.
His aunt said something angrily to him and Miss Buckle tutted and folded her arms. Dane apologized and crouched down to pick up the offending piece of fallen cutlery.
The legs of the screen hid his hands, as Lily tried to see what he was doing.
Suddenly, Dane’s little white mouse scampered across the carpet stopping in the shadows of a far-off table.
As they watched it, it dodged between the feet of various hotel guests, slunk past a waiter with a silver tray and zoomed towards them.
It was a miracle it wasn’t seen, but it was fast.
Lily and Robert waited with bated breath, until eventually the mouse arrived at their feet. It was carrying a teeny piece of paper in its jaws.
Malkin sniffed at the creature from his basket. “It’s not a mechanical,” he informed them with a snort. “But – the strangest thing – it doesn’t smell alive.”
“How can that be?” Robert asked.
“I don’t know,” the fox replied.
“Hello, little one,” Lily whispered to the mouse.
She picked the creature up, cupping it in her lap to avoid anyone else seeing it. It felt strangely ice-cold to the touch. The mouse nuzzled at her fingers with his soft snout. Lily took the twist of paper from his mouth, picking at its edges, trying to unroll it.
The mouse hopped down from her lap, skipped across the hem of her skirts, zigzagged quickly around Malkin’s basket and scarpered back across the room to Dane.
Lily unfurled the paper beneath the table. Dane’s minute handwriting filled the interior page, the words crammed so close that Lily and Robert could barely read them.
Lily got out her magnifying glass and tried that. Immediately the message jumped out clear as day. She and Robert put their heads together and peered through the lens reading what Dane had to say.