An Unwelcome Guest

by Emily Organ

  “This hotel must have a basement, don’t you think?” he said.

  “Yes, I suppose it must have.”

  “I wonder where the staircase is. I was hoping one of the maids might show us.”

  “We could try the back stairs.”

  “How do we get to those?”

  “We’d need to go back to the main foyer and turn left. There is a corridor there that leads to them.”

  “There’s a risk that we might bump into Mrs Mirabeau.”

  “I don’t understand, James. What are you planning to do down there?”

  “I have a hunch that something has been hidden in the basement.”

  “Such as?”

  “The lack of papers in Mr Gallo’s office concerns me, Penny, and I think if we were to look inside his attic rooms we would find a similar story there.”

  “But Chief Inspector Fenton and his men may have taken them, as you suggested earlier.”

  “They may have, but I feel sure that Mrs Mirabeau is hiding something. I want to find out what it is before she realises I’m looking.”

  We reached the main foyer and I was pleased to see that there was no sign of her.

  “This way,” I whispered, scurrying along on my tiptoes to prevent my boots from echoing on the tiled floor. We reached the carpeted corridor and strode as quickly as possible toward the set of swing doors that led to the back staircase.

  “I came this way the morning after the murder,” I whispered. “I was hoping to take a look at the Venetian Suite.”

  “I’m pleased you know where you’re going, Penny. It’s terribly dingy, isn’t it? I wonder whether there are any lights in the basement.”

  “I hope so, otherwise there will be little point in us going down there.”

  I pushed open the door to the back staircase, where the thin grey daylight filtered in through a window.

  James paused to look at it. “The killer discarded his bloodstained overcoat through one of the windows on this staircase. We think he must have done so from the second storey, as that window appeared to have been recently opened.” He leaned over the bannister and peered down. “It looks quite dark down there.”

  I felt a shiver down my spine. I had never felt at ease in this hotel, and the thought of climbing the stairs down to a dark basement was unappealing. I had no wish to accompany James there, but neither was I prepared to wait for him alone in the stairwell.

  The gloom intensified around us as we walked down the stairs. There was no sound except for our footsteps.

  “Hello!”

  My heart leapt up into my throat as I suddenly beheld Mrs Mirabeau in front of me. Her face loomed pale in the dark, and she held a lantern in her hand. An odd smile played on her lips.

  “We didn’t realise you were down here!” I said with a gasp.

  “Are you looking for something?” she asked.

  “Er, yes, we tried to find you upstairs. I’d like to take a look at the basement,” said James.

  “Really? What an odd request.”

  “Have you just come from there?” asked James.

  “Yes, there are a few items stored down there.”

  “May I ask what?”

  Mrs Mirabeau gave another involuntary blink. “Just some personal belongings of mine. I felt they would be safer locked away in the basement than in the office.”

  “May we take a look?” James asked.

  “If you must, but you’ll need to take a lantern with you. Here, have mine. The candle has almost burnt down, but there is probably half an hour or so left in it.”

  “Thank you, Mrs Mirabeau,” said James, “that is most kind of you. We’ll return it to your office when we’re finished.”

  “I’ll unlock the basement door for you.”

  Chapter 36

  The flickering lantern light shone against the brick walls and columns supporting the vast building above our heads. These supports divided the basement into small bays, each containing piles of old furniture and furnishings. I had to duck my head to avoid the thick, dusty cobwebs overhead. The cold from the stone floor seeped through the soles of my boots.

  “I don’t like it down here at all,” I said, clasping James’ arm.

  He laughed. “Don’t worry, Penny, I’ll keep you safe from the ghosts.”

  “Don’t say that!” I scolded. “I cannot abide jokes about ghosts when I’m stuck in a place like this!”

  We walked over to where grey daylight filtered through an iron grid of thick, leaded glass in the ceiling.

  “A pavement light from the street above,” said James, looking up. “People are walking over our heads.”

  My foot slipped in a slimy puddle of water that had accumulated from the drips between the gaps in the pavement light. “Yuck!” I exclaimed.

  We continued on our way.

  “Must we remain down here much longer?” I asked, still clinging on to James’ arm.

  “We need to find out what Mrs Mirabeau has been doing down here.”

  “Storing items which she doesn’t want to keep in her office. She told you that.”

  “Yes, but what items? Perhaps there’s a safe down here.”

  “If there is, it will no doubt be locked,” I said. “Then you can ask her to open it for you. Ugh! You can tell there are rats down here.”

  James shone the lantern on a chair with horsehair stuffing protruding from the jagged holes in its brocade covering.

  I clasped his arm even tighter and jumped when I saw a sudden movement. “What’s that?” My voice was higher-pitched than usual.

  “Only our reflection,” said James. “There is an old mirror over there.”

  The air smelled of damp soil and decay, similar to the way I imagined a tomb would smell. And there was another aroma too, like cold cinders in an unswept fireplace.

  “Can you smell that burnt odour?” James asked.

  “Yes. It must be left over from when the hotel caught fire.”

  “I consider it unlikely. The fire occurred years ago, did it not?”

  “Yes, it was four years ago.”

  “Could the foundations really retain the charred smell?”

  “The hotel collapsed in on itself, right down into the basement,” I said. “Did you never walk past the ruins?”

  “I suppose I must have done, but I don’t recall it in great detail.”

  As we continued walking, the smell of burning grew stronger.

  “Are we really likely to find anything down here?” I asked, keen to leave at the earliest opportunity.

  “There has to be a safe.”

  “But we’ve searched most of the basement now and there has been no sign of one. Couldn’t we ask Chief Inspector Fenton and his men to come and conduct a thorough search? They could bring plenty of lanterns with them and make short work of it. There can’t be much light left in the candle, and I need to get back to the office soon to meet with Miss Davies.”

  James turned to face me. “All right, then. I think I can see a substantial wall up ahead which could mark the end of this section. Let’s have a look over there and then we can leave.”

  “Must we?”

  “Come on, it’ll only take us a minute.” James smiled before leaning in to kiss me. “I don’t often find the opportunity to do that,” he said. “There are benefits to being alone together in the dark.”

  I laughed. “Can we find a friendlier dark place next time?”

  “I’m sure we can.”

  We continued on for a few more steps.

  “What’s that on the floor?” asked James. He raised his lantern and I saw a pool of something dark. For a brief, terrible moment I thought it might be blood, but then I saw that it was powdery in texture.

  “Ashes,” said James, stooping down with his lantern to take a closer look. “So this is where the burnt smell is coming from.” He set the lantern on the ground, put his gloves on and ran his hands through the pile of embers. Dust rose up in the flickering light. “It’s very
fine,” he said. “Paper, perhaps?”

  “Do you think Mrs Mirabeau has been burning papers down here?”

  “I would say so, wouldn’t you? It certainly explains why there are so few papers left in the offices upstairs.”

  “We mustn’t jump to assumptions, though. There may be another explanation for it.”

  “There may be.” James stood upright again and picked up the lantern. “We need to ask her about it. Maybe we could make enquiries with the maids first, and hopefully one of them will let something slip. Either way, I think you’re right about getting Fenton and his men down here. This basement needs to be properly searched. Mrs Mirabeau clearly has an unusual interest in the place, and we need to understand why.”

  “I’m surprised Chief Inspector Fenton’s men didn’t search here immediately after the murders.”

  “They may well have done, but once they found the murder weapon and the discarded overcoat and gloves, they had the most important evidence. Searching the basement probably wasn’t much of a priority after that. The killer doesn’t appear to have made it down here.”

  “Unless the killer is Mrs Mirabeau.”

  “Good point. Come on, let’s go. I can’t wait to find out whether Miss Davies will have something useful to tell you about Clara Hamilton.”

  We walked briskly back toward the door we had entered through.

  “I’m looking forward to seeing daylight again,” I said. “Even if it is grey and cloudy.”

  James laughed. “This is the right door, isn’t it?” he said, holding his lantern up so we could see it more clearly.

  “It’s the only door, I think.”

  “I don’t remember us closing it. Do you?”

  “I thought we had left it open, but never mind. Perhaps it has swung shut by itself.”

  James stepped forward and turned the handle.

  Nothing happened.

  He tried again, turning the handle both ways. Then he pulled at the handle before pushing against the door with his shoulder.

  I felt a ball of panic grow in my chest.

  “Is it not opening?” I said, my voice rising in pitch again.

  “No, it’s not,” said James. “I think we have been locked in.”

  “Please don’t say that.” I tried to calm my rapid breathing.

  “Mrs Mirabeau unlocked the door for us, didn’t she?” said James. “And I’m sure we left it open when we stepped inside. I think she must have come back and locked it.”

  “But she can’t have!” I cried. “Why would she do such a thing?”

  “Hello?” shouted James, thumping on the door with his fist. “Can anyone hear us?”

  “Hello?” I shouted, joining in with the thumping. “Hello! Is anyone there? Oh, James, it’s hopeless! How will anyone ever hear us down here? Has she really locked the door on us? But why? Why would she do it?”

  “Because we are close to finding her out,” said James.

  “So now what?” I cried. “How will we ever get out of here?”

  Chapter 37

  “Is there anything we can use to break the door down?” I pleaded.

  “It would be difficult as the door opens inwardly.”

  “Could we smash the door frame with something?”

  “It would have to be something heavy but portable.”

  “An axe!” I said. “Perhaps there’s an axe down here.”

  “I can’t recall seeing one.”

  We searched for an axe or anything else that could be used to damage the door frame, but nothing we found was of any use.

  “There has to be another way out of here,” I said, becoming increasingly flustered. “There must be. There can’t only be the one door, can there?”

  “I don’t think there is any other,” said James.

  We walked the length and breadth of the basement, searching for another way out.

  “What about the pavement lights?” I asked. “Surely we could smash one of those?”

  “That leaded glass is a good few inches thick. It’s designed to bear the weight of countless people walking over it.”

  “Surely we could smash one and shout for help!”

  “We could try, Penny, but I don’t even know what we would smash it with.”

  “I’m sure I can find something.”

  James gave me the lantern and I searched around the old pieces of furniture. The best option I could see was a bronze candlestick. I dragged a chair so that it sat beneath one of the pavement lights, then climbed onto it and began hitting the glass above my head. I only had to do it a few times to realise that any attempt to break the window would be futile. The candlestick simply bounced off the thick glass and began to bend. My arm soon ached.

  “Would you like me to try?” offered James.

  I could tell by the tone in his voice that he considered it a useless idea but was reluctant to tell me so.

  He stood on the chair and struck the glass above us so hard with the candlestick that the noise was almost deafening within the echoing surrounds of the basement.

  “I don’t think it’s doing any good,” he said, examining the bent candlestick before clambering down from the chair.

  “It was a foolish idea,” I said, a heavy sensation settling in my stomach. “How long are we to be trapped in here, James? I’m supposed to be meeting Miss Davies. What time is it?”

  James looked at his pocket watch. “Half-past three o’clock.”

  “She’ll be at the office within half an hour!” I said. “I knew we shouldn’t have come down here.”

  “I don’t remember you saying so at the time.”

  “Perhaps not, but I thought it.”

  “You didn’t have to come down here with me.”

  “I didn’t want to stay upstairs on my own.”

  “As I see it, we both made the decision to come down here, and we couldn’t possibly have predicted that we’d be locked in.”

  “We never should have trusted her.”

  “It didn’t feel as though we were placing a great trust in her at the time; I just never foresaw this happening. She will be in a great deal of trouble when this comes to light.”

  “And when will that be? How will anyone find out that we’re here?”

  “They’ll come looking for us before long.”

  “Before long? How long will that be? And even when they do come looking for us, when are they going to realise that we are down in the basement? Oh, this is awful, James.” I began to pace the floor. “We could be here all night. And all day tomorrow! And another night! We’re prisoners. Why has she done this to us?”

  “To protect herself.”

  “Meanwhile, Miss Davies will think that I’m no longer interested in meeting with her. How long will she be prepared to wait for me, James?”

  “Penny, you need to calm yourself. Fretting about the situation won’t help us.”

  “What do you expect me to do?” I snapped. “Make myself comfortable on a chair with all the rats and patiently wait for someone to find us?”

  “We may have no other choice. We could make as much noise as possible, but no one is likely to hear us. So we will either have to wait until someone notices that we are missing or until Mrs Mirabeau’s conscience gets the better of her.”

  “I’m beginning to think that she doesn’t have a conscience.”

  “We need a distraction. Let’s sit down and take a look at the copy of the Morning Express you brought with you. There is very little life left in the candle now, but it might last long enough for us to find something useful.”

  “I’d like to sit up on the steps by the door,” I said.

  We walked over to the door and I tried the handle again, but it still wouldn’t budge.

  “Let’s sit down and look at this newspaper,” James said gently.

  “I’ve already looked at it.”

  “And now we’re going to look at it together. Come on.”

  James began leafing through the pages, and I
sighed as I glanced at the familiar articles I had looked at countless times before.

  “This edition was printed three days before Clara Hamilton stayed at the hotel,” I said. “There was nothing particularly newsworthy that day.”

  “A report from the House of Commons…” said James, holding the lantern above the paper. I could see that there was barely any wax left in the candle. “The Congo Conference… Egypt… What news was there? A collision between two ships on the Thames, in which no one was hurt. Money markets… law intelligence… sporting intelligence… police intelligence… And then foreign news. Something here must have interested her, but there’s no telling what, is there? We don’t even know the lady. Unless…”

  “What is it?”

  “Unless there’s another hidden message here. That must be it, Penny! Did you read through all the advertisements?”

  “Yes I did, and there were hundreds of them.”

  “And the personal messages?”

  “I read those, too.”

  “Are you sure?” James turned to the advertisements section and ran his finger down them until he reached the column of personal messages.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure you hadn’t dozed off by the time you reached this section?”

  “I cannot recall falling asleep.”

  “I think you must have, because there does seem to be something significant here.”

  “Really?”

  James held the lantern close to the paper and pointed to a single line of text, which was nothing more than a string of jumbled letters.

  “That has to be why she kept an old copy of the newspaper,” he said. “This message was for her.”

  “Of course!” I said. “It must be the Vigenère cypher again. If we assume the keyword is nemesis again, we can try to decypher it!” I opened my carpet bag and pulled out my pencil and notepad. “All we need to do is write down the grid of letters Mr Hobhouse showed us and then we can work it out! I’m so pleased you spotted it, James, and to think that I didn’t notice it there!”

  I wrote down the alphabet in a row, then began the second row with the letters shifted along by one.

  “You’ll have to do that twenty-six times,” said James resignedly.