The Clockwork Three (23 page)

“Is anyone here?” Miss Wool called out.

Hannah held her breath and listened. Miss Wool seemed to be doing the same. Then Hannah heard the light sweep of the woman’s feet over the rugs. She was probably looking at the vase right then, wondering who had tipped it over. Hannah heard her set it upright.

Then Miss Wool began to move through the other rooms. Hannah heard doors opening and closing in an endless hunt that finally brought
the woman into the library with her. Hannah closed her eyes tight, waiting and hoping with clenched teeth.

Several moments passed, slow and tortured, like sliding down a rasp. Then Hannah heard Miss Wool leave through the front door. It took another moment or two before she dared poke her head out. The library was empty. The suite seemed empty.

She let out a long, even breath.

So Mister Twine was not here, after all. Hannah would have to call on him at his mansion, if he would see her. It had been terrifying the first time she met him, back when she asked him for a job at the hotel.

Hannah took a last look around the library, and then went back out into the foyer. There was the vase, and the table. The sharp light of morning fell in parallel strips against the floor and walls from two tall, narrow windows. The floors were marble beneath the Oriental rugs, and the stone continued up one of the walls, forming an arched alcove. Hannah looked closer, and noticed a tiny holly leaf carved at the back.

That made sixty-three. She pulled out the scrap of paper on which her father had drawn.
Drawn
. With his own hands. Were it not for the charcoal lines in front of her, Hannah would never have believed it, would have doubted her own memory as a dream. But even with the holly leaf in her hand, Hannah still felt gratitude that in all his renovations Mister Twine had never changed her father’s work. Mister Twine even had her father’s work right here in his own suite.

She stepped into the alcove and reached out to her father’s carving. At her touch, the stone inside the holly leaf gave a little, like a button. She pressed harder. The stone clicked.

A grating sound surrounded her, like a boulder clearing its throat, and the back of the alcove slid away. Hannah stared into a dark passage,
cool air pouring over her. The rumors were true. Mister Twine had secret passages for moving around the hotel. And then the puzzle pieces fell into place.

Hannah’s mother had said that Mister Twine was always asking Hannah’s father for special projects. Projects Mister Twine never changed afterward, despite his willingness to rip out even the most beautiful craftsmanship. What if her father had drawn the holly leaf not simply as a gift to Hannah, but a message? A clue.

The passage entrance yawned like a cave, the cave of the forty thieves. There was a lamp just inside on the ground, and Hannah went to look for matches. Once lit, the kerosene flame revealed the corridor not as an earthen cave, but a clean and narrow hallway. Hannah looked over her shoulder, then entered, and a few feet inside spotted another holly leaf. She pressed it, and the door in the alcove closed, sealing her in.

Echoes of her footsteps seemed to swarm around her, racing ahead and doubling back. At times it even seemed there were footsteps behind her. The corridor ran straight for several yards, and then it branched. Hannah thought about where she was in relation to the hallways and rooms she knew, and turned to the right, wanting to explore.

Periodically, voices penetrated the passage, and Hannah could stop and listen to guests conversing over their morning coffee, or maids cleaning a recently vacated room. It was no mystery now how Mister Twine seemed to know everything that happened in his hotel.

After a short time spent wandering, she came upon a staircase. Hannah climbed up to the third story and found another staircase leading to the fourth. She grew excited. Perhaps these passages offered a way into Mister Stroop’s suite. She raced up to the topmost floor, and paused a moment
to catch her breath. Up here the corridors felt hot and stifling. Hannah gathered her bearings. She was standing on the border between the two suites. Stroop on one side, Madame Pomeroy on the other.

She took a step toward Madame Pomeroy’s side and listened. In the silence, she heard her former mistress’s familiar voice on the other side of the wall. The sound brought an ache to Hannah’s chest.

“Yes, Yakov,” Madame Pomeroy said. “Pack that, but leave that one. I wish to unburden myself of some of these belongings. To travel more lightly than I have in the past.”

“And Hannah’s dress?” Yakov asked.

It pained Hannah to think back on the night at the opera now. Madame Pomeroy’s words to Miss Wool had tainted the memory with bitterness, and the loss grieved her.

“I don’t know what to do with that,” Madame Pomeroy said. “For now, we leave it.”

“As you wish, Madame,” Yakov said. “I will miss her. Very much.”

Hannah shook her head and fled back along the passage. There was no way to make amends for what she had done. In helping Miss Wool and Mister Grumholdt, Madame Pomeroy had betrayed Hannah, but she had done so without knowing it. Hannah had betrayed Madame Pomeroy’s trust knowingly and intentionally, but for her father she would do it all over again. She could not make amends, because she could not bring herself to apologize.

Hannah wiped her eyes and tried to wipe Madame Pomeroy from her mind. She crossed the border into where she thought Stroop’s suite had been, and started looking for holly leaves.

Several moments later she found one, and after a moment’s pause, she pressed it.

A doorway opened on a forgotten room. Hannah blew out the lamp and felt a chill as she stepped over the threshold into Mister Stroop’s suite. The room she entered was a library, much like Madame Pomeroy’s. A growth of dust coated every surface, and cobwebs stretched over the bookshelves and fluttered in the corners. Sunlight had faded the curtains next to a telescope. Hannah crossed to it, and looked out the window.

There was McCauley Park, as she had imagined it to be. The place where Alice lived, and where cougars sunned themselves in clearings. Where Pullman wandered, and where wondrous plants grew, herbs and molds that had been made into medicine that saved her father’s leg. In that moment Hannah thought she knew the wonder and joy Stroop felt when he looked out his window.

She bent her eye to the telescope, and the lens brought Grover’s Pond up close. And at the upper edge of the water, Hannah saw her father’s memorial stone. She heard a noise behind her.

“How a fool like you found this, I’ll never know.”

Hannah spun around.

Miss Wool stood in the doorway. Her eyes swept the room. “Hans and I have been searching for months, and here a stupid maid comes along and manages to lead me to it.”

Hannah was trapped. Miss Wool blocked the only exit.

“Yes, I followed you. I almost confronted you back in Twine’s office, but I wanted to see what you would do.” The woman folded her arms. “So, here we are. I assume you’re looking for the treasure.”

Hannah swallowed and nodded.

“How?”

“From you,” Hannah whispered.

“Speak up!”

“I heard about it from you.”

“A thief and a spy.” Miss Wool stepped into the room. Could Hannah run past her?

“You can leave, if you like,” Miss Wool said. “But the police will be at your door before the day is out. It’s prison for you, on my word.”

Hannah felt the blood drain from her face. “For what?”

“Theft. Burglary. You’re not an employee anymore, and look where I found you. Oh, what will your family do when you’re gone?”

Hannah curled her fingers into claws. She wanted to leap on Miss Wool and tear her to pieces, like a cougar in the city.

“Unless,” Miss Wool said, and sneered.

Hannah kept her voice even. “Unless what?”

“You help me find the treasure, and say nothing to anyone about it.”

“What about Mister Grumholdt?”

Miss Wool laughed. “What about that imbecile?”

“I thought you were working together.”

“So did he. But after he ruined our chance to get rid of Madame Pomeroy, I decided to cut him out.”

“What chance?”

“When she was threatening to leave if we sacked you. Oh, my. Did you think that was really about you? I wanted her out so we could do a proper search of this floor. But the fool Grumholdt kept you on and kept her happy. Since then I haven’t been able to do anything up here without that Russian watching my every move. Especially after that so-called séance. But you found another way.”

Miss Wool lifted her chin and continued. “So that is my offer. Help
me, and I shall reward you by not calling the police. Say a word to anyone, and your family will visit you in prison. Except your father, of course.”

Each of Miss Wool’s words flew like a piece of coal into the stove burning up Hannah’s insides. Her rage blazed white-hot under a mountain of fuel. She had been building it up all this time, ever since her father’s stroke, and now it was primed to explode. Her fury felt like fire in her mouth, in her nostrils. She was not a cougar. She was a dragon.

But in the stories, dragons could be clever and treacherous.

“I’ll help you,” Hannah said.

“I knew you were capable of some thought. Come then, search these rooms. You can dirty yourself with all this dust. Look sharp, the treasure could be small, a box of precious gems. You know about those, don’t you?”

It took every shred of restraint Hannah possessed to curtsy, but she managed a dip and did what she was told. She pulled the books down from their shelves. She dumped the dresser drawers, felt under the furniture, looked behind picture frames, and tossed the bedsheets. Nothing.

Miss Wool marched her from one room to the next, until they ended up in the drawing room and found it had been emptied. The wallpaper peeled up at the corners, and the slackened carpet puckered in the middle of the floor. There was nothing in there to search except a fireplace with a pile of half-burned papers in it. Hannah riffled through them, and found a few pages that still bore legible writing.

“What does it say?” Miss Wool asked.

“Would you like to read it?”

“Make that schooling of yours worth something and tell me what it says!”

“Can you not read, ma’am?”

“Of course I can read.” Miss Wool sniffed. “But lately my eyes have been failing.”

Hannah coughed in the ash and dust she had stirred up. “A lot of it is all black, burned up. It says ‘last will and testament’ at the top.”

“It does?” Miss Wool’s eyes bulged. “Read it, you stupid girl.”

“It says, all monies to be deposited in … a bank, I can’t read the name. And here it says, total value to the sum of one hundred twenty-three dollars.”

Miss Wool blinked. “Repeat that amount.”

“One hundred twenty-three dollars.”

“That’s it? That’s his treasure?”

Hannah looked the paper over again. “I think that’s what it means.”

“That’s what I’ve been searching for all these months? A measly one hundred twenty-three dollars! And it’s in a bank?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Miss Wool’s face turned so red she looked hot to the touch. “Get out.”

“What, ma’am?”

“Get out!”

“Yes, ma’am.” Hannah shoved the paper back into the fireplace, in among the other fragments. She got up to leave, curtsied, and went to the door. “Can I be of any more help, ma’am?”

Miss Wool whipped her eyes toward Hannah like a rattlesnake. “You may not think I will keep my end of our bargain, but I will. But don’t you ever come back to this hotel.”

“No, ma’am.”

Hannah returned to the secret doorway, lit her lantern, and descended the stairs. She trembled through the corridors with the anger
and fear she had kept bound up inside, and prayed that Miss Wool would not take the pages to anyone else to read. After some time Hannah exited the secret network of passages into Mister Twine’s suite, and hastened out into the hall, down the grand staircase into the lobby. On her way through the front doors she heard Walter’s voice calling her name. She ignored him and barreled down to the square.

Hannah had lied to Miss Wool and made up the message, although the first part was true. At the top it did read “last will and testament of Phineas Stroop,” and his signature curled across the bottom of the page. All the writing in between was unreadable. But below Stroop’s signature was the name of the document’s witness.

Signed by Mister Twine.

It was midday by the time she reached Master Branch’s shop, but upon entering found it empty. She called out. No noises from upstairs, but a moment later Frederick burst from the back room.

“Hannah,” he said. “Master Branch has been gone all day, and I’ve been working. Come see!” And he disappeared.

Hannah sighed and followed after him.

In the cellar, Giuseppe stood against a wall with a look on his face that said he was ready to throttle Frederick.

“You would not believe the day we’ve had,” Frederick said, circling his worktable.

“You really wouldn’t,” Giuseppe said.

“Well, I’ve had quite a day, too.”

“Look at this,” Frederick said. He pointed at the clockwork head, which was now attached to the body Frederick had made. The forehead panel was open, exposing its snarl of gears.

“How did you do that?” Hannah asked.

“It told me how.” Frederick gestured over a pile of books on the floor. “It took time to translate, but the Magnus head knows a lot about itself. Do you know that it originally had a body? It was made of metal, wax, leather, and glass. All I had to do was figure out how to connect my body to the head. At first I didn’t think it would be possible.”

“But it helped you?” Hannah asked.

“Yes.” Frederick’s hair looked unkempt, and his eyes were red.

“I think you need some sleep.”

“I will, soon. There’s still a problem.”

“Frederick, where is Master Branch?”

“Guild business. They summoned him early this morning. I’ve got it all attached correctly, but the head still can’t animate the body.”

“Why?” Hannah said.

“That’s the one thing I can’t ask it. If you ask it when, or what, or how, it can answer. But it can’t answer why questions.”