He seized her hand. ‘I say this is tremendous news. What a breakthrough. Did he really try to speak?’
‘He was just a shadowy shape. He was gone in an instant.’
‘And it was definitely Dr Thallomius?’ sneered Kingfisher. ‘Short guy. Old fella.’
Gloria scowled at him. ‘It was like a grey shadow. But it can only have been Dr Thallomius, can’t it?’ She stamped her polished black shoes again. ‘I’ve told you, he has a strong connection to my family.’
‘Where was this presence?’ asked Angelique.
Gloria waved at the corner and everyone looked to where she pointed – the part of the room that was dominated by a life-size portrait of a woman dressed in black with a sour face and disapproving eyes.
Everyone stared at the scary woman in the picture, who looked like she’d never had a day’s fun in her life. Seth wondered how anyone could possible sleep with that face watching your every move and guessed the same thought had occurred to everyone.
‘I am sure that picture would spook anyone,’ said Count Marred gently, starting to move away.
But Angelique began to feel all around the frame, even peering behind it. ‘Was the shape actually in the room?’
‘I didn’t just get spooked by a portrait,’ said Gloria defensively.
Angelique was brushing her hands over the surface of the portrait. Seth guessed she was dying to zap it with her divinoscope, but knew she wouldn’t dare with so many people around.
Professor Papperspook leant towards Count Marred excitedly. ‘This really is a most exciting development in Gloria’s magic. I suggest we test her abilities. See if she can contact him again.’
‘What do you mean?’ Kingfisher interrupted.
‘We need to talk to Dr Thallomius. I suggest we hold a seance.’
33. A Secret
Kingfisher barked out a laugh and Gloria Troutbean’s colour turned from angry uneven crimson to an ill-looking white.
‘I may be young and my magical powers may not be well developed. But I come from an ancient magical family. I could tell the lot of you things about the Sorcerer General that would shock you,’ snapped Gloria, her eyes flashing. ‘I know why he wants to talk to me. I expect he wants to apologize.’
Count Marred turned. ‘What for?’
Gloria spoke again, her voice had grown shrill. ‘It’s time you all listened to me. Dr Thallomius came through to me because I know Dr Thallomius’s secret.’
‘His secret?’ echoed Marred.
She swung around, jabbing an accusing finger randomly. ‘My grandfather invented one of the cleverest magical devices of the age and he was cheated out of getting the credit for it by Dr Thallomius!’
‘Don’t say too much, dear,’ muttered Papperspook, starting towards Gloria, who was being crowded by Count Marred and Kingfisher.
‘That’s enough, Professor Papperspook. I’m sick of listening to your advice. You made me put on those ridiculous shoes.’ She turned and stamped her foot. ‘Because you interfered and didn’t believe I had a talent to get me past the Prospect and into the Elysee. But seeing the dead is my magical power and I’m not going to be cheated out of getting recognition for my magical gifts.’
‘Do be careful what you are saying,’ said Professor Papperspook, finding herself shut out by the crowd.
‘What secret?’ said Angelique.
‘Yes, tell us,’ said Darinder Dunster-Dunstable.
Gloria looked around, her hands clasped together in front of her, her eyes flashing. ‘Ah, now you are listening.’
Professor Papperspook, peeping under Count Marred’s arm that barred her way, said, ‘I’m sure they don’t want to be bothered, dear.’
Gloria ignored her, enjoying herself, ‘You all know the famous story of how Dr Thallomius and my grandfather, Wintergreen Troutbean, were best friends when they were young. Everyone laughs at the crazy inventions, the pranks. But do you really know why they fell out?’ Her eyes had narrowed to slits, a triumphant smile on her face. ‘It is a terrible story.’ Gloria was making the most of this. ‘Dr Thallomius, the one everyone goes on about being so utterly marvellous. Well it is time everyone knew what he was really like.’
‘No Gloria!’ shouted Professor Papperspook, trying in vain to reach her.
But Count Marred deliberately barred her way. ‘I think we should hear this.’
‘There is a reason that matter is secret,’ she hissed.
‘My grandfather and Dr Thallomius created this device,’ ploughed on Gloria, gleefully ignoring Professor Papperspook. ‘But Dr Thallomius got cold feet when he realized what they’d created – its awful evil power. Then it disappeared. Torpor Thallomius accused my grandfather of stealing it and selling it for a fortune. My grandfather was never able to prove his innocence.’ She drew herself up further and said in a deep and portentous tone, ‘It broke his heart. Dr Thallomius was responsible for forever tarnishing the noble and ancient name of Troutbean.’
Professor Papperspook finally wrenched herself free and seized Gloria. ‘So sorry, probably better to leave Gloria to have a lie down.’ She attempted to shoo everyone back towards the door, but they moved reluctantly, all eyes transfixed by Gloria. ‘She really doesn’t know what she’s talking about.’
‘I don’t need a lie down,’ said Gloria, trying to squirm out of her grasp. ‘And I do know what I am talking about.’
‘But what is it?’ asked Count Marred, pausing in the doorway. ‘What is this device you are accusing Torpor of inventing, and then becoming scared of?’
‘Didn’t you know, Count, about your best friend being responsible for inventing something so wicked and feared, one of the grotesquely evil inventions of the sorcerers’ world? Your marvellous Dr Thallomius invented the firefly cage.’
34. We All Know What He Stood For
‘I t’s a monstrous lie,’ came a gravelly voice into the heavy silence that followed Gloria’s shocking statement. Everyone turned to Marred, his ruined face the picture of misery in a sea of motionless faces, frozen in a moment of shock.
‘Torpor never invented that infernal device. He never could. He stood out against misuse of magic, against sinister magic of all kinds. He fought against all of that.’
‘We all know what he stood for, Boldo,’ said Pewter, slapping a reassuring hand on Marred’s back. ‘We all know what a great man he became.’
‘Became?’ said the Count uncertainly. He turned to Angelique. ‘You worked closely with him, Miss Squerr. Wasn’t he the kindest, most generous? Helping magical people make the most of their magic and using magic as a force for good is the code he lived his life by. He simply would not have been capable of inventing that atrocious device.’ His hands moved in deep agitation.
‘Well, who can honestly say they didn’t invent something of immense deadly power and brutality in their youth?’ put in Pewter, mildly, as if saying something reassuring. ‘You show me any great sorcerer and I will show you someone with secrets. Sometimes taking a wrong path in your youth sows the seed of greatness.’
Seth had to fight an urge to react with a sudden burst of laughter after all the tension and had to cover it with a cough.
‘You think it’s true that his inventions were once evil? You believe he did do this monstrous thing – he was the inventor of that abomination – the firefly cage?’ went on Marred.
‘I think,’ said Angelique thoughtfully, ‘that using magic for good means resisting the powerful pull of sinister magic, Count Marred.’
‘Who can be both wise and young?’ said Pewter cheerfully. ‘Making your mistakes early leads to wisdom beyond your years, isn’t that what they say, Boldo?’ he slapped Count Marred again on the back. ‘Who cares about his sinister past?’
Seth looked at Marred’s face. If it had shown devastation at his friend’s death before, it now looked even more haggard at hearing such a terrible accusation.
‘You look like you could do with a sit down, sir,’ suggested Seth to Marred. ‘Why d
on’t you head for the hotel lounge. I’ll make you some tea,’ he offered, receiving Pewter’s glance with a nod.
He was glad of a reason to slip away, much as he longed to hear anything more that was said about whether the other guests believed this accusation of Dr Thallomius having a sinister past.
But he hadn’t forgotten he was supposed to be keeping an eye on Mr Bunn. And he suddenly realized that Mr Bunn hadn’t come running when Gloria screamed. So where was he?
And had Nightshade had any luck? Was she any closer to finding out if Mr Bunn was magic or a trickster? Had she got anything to tell him?
He decided that no one in the lounge would notice if their tea took a little longer to fetch. He just needed a little time. Where would Nightshade be now? Hopefully she wouldn’t have just fallen back asleep on his bed, she would be on the trail.
He moved stealthily through the lobby and paused by the welcome desk. Behind it was a tapestry picture of a girl in a pretty yellow dress that concealed the secret entrance to where Mr Bunn had a tiny study.
Was it possible that Mr Bunn was in there right now? Seth tried to picture him sitting there poring over magical text books and practising spells in secret. Could he catch him right now? He hadn’t seen Mr Bunn for ages.
He crept behind the welcome desk and tried to listen for any telltale signs that the room was occupied.
He pushed aside the tapestry and moved the tiny door just enough so that he could see that the room was in complete darkness. No one was allowed in here. Seth had never got further than looking from the doorway. He had always assumed Mr Bunn spent his days here as idly as possible, skulking quietly, leafing through a newspaper, taking a nap.
But had Mr Bunn recently been in here secretly finding a way to do magic?
‘Aren’t you supposed to be in the kitchen?’ a voice behind him snapped.
Seth jumped, turned and caught a whiff of Norrie Bunn’s rum-laced breath on his cheek and raced into the kitchen before she could even begin to yell at him.
He reluctantly slumped his way to the kettle. How was he going to find any time to do any sleuthing? How was he going to find Mr Bunn? Seth could only hope Nightshade had had better luck.
And then he found Mr Bunn.
He was there, right in front of him, at the sink, tackling the enormous pile of washing up very, very slowly, almost in a daze.
Seth kept his head down as he assembled cups and the biggest teapot he could find, constantly darting looks at his employer and thinking how he could bring up a conversation about how on earth Mr Bunn had been secretly practising magic. How had he made Henri’s little carved bugs come to life? Seth burnt to know the truth, but how could he get the truth out of Mr Bunn?
It had to have been a trick, one that was good enough to fool even Angelique. But it was so difficult to believe Mr Bunn had managed that. How had he done it?
As Seth slowly filled a jug with milk and gathered everything together on a tray, he went through everything in his mind once again as he tried to hit on an answer that made sense of everything.
He turned to Mr Bunn, a question on his lips about whether his employer was really a sorcerer, but he only noticed how lined and saggy his face was, as his hands rhythmically soaped a plate over and over in the foamy water. Instead of seeing the lazy man he had worked for all these years, Seth tried really hard to see a powerful sorcerer.
‘Ah Seth. All these visitors,’ Mr Bunn said, wiping his brow and leaving a trail of bubbles. ‘They don’t really believe you poisoned the old fella, do they? They wouldn’t really take you away?’
‘I don’t know, sir. There is a lot I don’t know. This place is beginning to seem almost a mystery in itself.’
He stopped as he picked up the heavy tray loaded with the giant teapot, cups and jug of milk into the hallway. And realized these were almost exactly the same words as Angelique had been saying to him right from the beginning – that all the answers were here, at the hotel, before the Prospect even arrived. And that Seth must have all the answers.
Only he didn’t, he simply didn’t.
So when he saw a figure moving at the top of the stairs, Seth just slid the tray quickly on to a low table in the lounge, and slipped straight back out again to follow quietly up the stairs.
35. Watching the Tragedy Unfold
He hovered in a shadowy space and watched.
Angelique was working her way along each of the paintings on the first-floor landing, running her fingers deftly around each one in turn. Seth watched, fascinated, from the shadows as a flash of blue light lit up the landing and Seth saw her frown as she took out her red notebook to write something in it.
‘Seth. What can you tell me about the paintings?’ she said, without lifting her eyes from the notebook.
‘Err – I . . .’ Seth stepped out of the shadows, embarrassed. The woman in the mad hat grinned at him from the painting at the end of the corridor.
‘I don’t know anything, really I don’t. But what are you doing, Angelique? Do you think the paintings have got anything to do with – anything?’ he finished lamely.
‘Good question, Seth. Do you think they are connected?’
‘To the murder?’
‘Well I thought maybe to each other.’ She bit her lip and frowned. ‘There is something strange here; something else that I don’t understand.’ She stowed the notebook in her ruby handbag and flipped closed the silver top of her cane. ‘I keep telling you that you have more answers than you realize.’ She moved closer, her dark eyes flashing dangerously. ‘I just can’t work out if you actually think it is a good idea to keep it all to yourself.’
He rubbed his neck as he recalled Angelique pressing in with the end of her bewitching cane the last time he’d let slip that he knew anything at all.
That’s what had happened last time he had mentioned a firefly cage, but now he had no choice but to risk mentioning it again. He was now desperate to know. What exactly was a firefly cage? Why had everyone reacted with such deep horror when it was mentioned?
Angelique had told him Dr Thallomius used to be a scientific inventor, and Kingfisher had confirmed Dr Thallomius used to invent with Wintergreen Troutbean.
But could kindly Dr Thallomius truly be the inventor of some sort of horrible magic? What did it do?
‘That firefly cage that Gloria mentioned . . . the one she says Dr Thallomius and her grandfather invented . . . what does it actually do that is so terrifying? You have to tell me now, what exactly is a firefly cage? Why is everyone so shocked?’
He heard Angelique suck in a rapid breath. But at least this time she made no attempt to shower him with those lethal-looking blue sparkles for merely mentioning it, even though he found he’d tensed himself for that to happen.
‘It’s a prison. It’s a particularly cruel way of imprisoning a sorcerer,’ she told him quietly, flipping the silver top on her cane. ‘Their body is trapped, but there is one thing that is still free. Their magic. Seth, it’s horrible. It means if someone traps a sorcerer in a firefly cage, then someone else can access their magic.’
It was difficult for Seth to imagine exactly why that should be so horrible, but he could see it was something that struck terror into the hearts of people with magic.
But what was really troubling him now was why had the firefly cage been written about in the black book?
As he headed for the lounge to refill the teapot, Seth could tell they had all been discussing something important by the way Pewter, Marred and Kingfisher looked up.
Angelique had followed him in and she took one of the squashy seats gathered around the low table. The room that seemed to have settled with an unshakeable gloom and Seth thought that he should probably relay the fire to cheer things up a bit.
‘Miss Troutbean has offered us a seance and I must say, what a totally terrific idea,’ announced Pewter. ‘Shall we say the dining room in one hour? Mr Kingfisher, if you could see to the necessary arrangements? Excellent!’
&nb
sp; Kingfisher didn’t look happy about it, but he got up to go and do as he was told.
‘My feeling is that if Dr Thallomius’s undead spirit is wandering the hotel, we would track it down there,’ ruminated Pewter, drumming his long fingers on the table. ‘I think it might be very revealing.’
Marred nodded his head heavily. ‘Anything you think that will help clear up this awful mystery and mess.’ He mopped his brow.
The sound of familiar tiny footsteps made Seth tense.
Tiffany arrived in the room, her skin gleaming, her face beaming. All heads turned and Seth knew something bad was coming when she turned to him with that slow evil grin that made him quail.
‘I’ve just a few things to show you. I think you’ll find them fascinating,’ she said, addressing the room with a girlish giggle. ‘I don’t know if any of this might help. I do hope so.’
And on to the table in front of everyone, before he could even begin to guess what was coming, Tiffany tossed Seth’s black book.
36. Gilbert’s Extra-Strong Pickles
Seth stared at it. It just lay there and he had to fight an urge to snatch it up before anyone else got to it. Any minute now someone would pick it up and discover the recipe for apricot delice and the picture of a firefly cage.
Tiffany looked towards Seth, her face a vile mixture of contempt and triumph. She also had something else in her hand he recognized and all he could do was watch as, almost in slow motion, his life’s savings kept in the old Gilbert’s Extra-Strong Pickles jar rolled across the table, continuing its noisy journey until it fell on to the floor with a crash, depositing the coins across the carpet.
Tiffany had been in his room. It didn’t surprise him that Tiffany knew all about his secret hiding place. Now his small hoard of precious possessions were spilt out and everyone had come over to see. Even Kingfisher had returned already as if keen to be there to see Seth’s shame.
Tiffany leant forward and picked up the one coin that stood out, holding it in her fingers so that it caught the light and glinted.
The Last Chance Hotel Page 12