Page 39 of The White Octopus Hotel
“If the lift hadn’t arrived right when it did,” he went on, “well, I shudder to think.”
“And yet you are still gracing us with your presence all the same,” Max remarked. “Not in any hurry to leave after your fearsome encounter?”
The guest looked affronted. “Don’t be so sure,” he said. “I may well pack my bags and check out this very night. Why, just the otherday my reflection reached out of that mirror and tried to strangle me. No scavenger hunt is worth a chap’s life.”
“You said that already,” Max said.
He was looking intently at the guest. Perhaps, like Eve, he suspected that something wasn’t right. It didn’t seem as if the man’s fear was quite real. Sprawled in his armchair, puffing away on his cigar, the guest didn’t look particularly concerned. And why would he come back to this room at all if his reflection had actually tried to strangle him? When Eve glanced at the mirror, she saw that the guest in the reflection wore a different expression altogether; he was smirking. She suspected he was just trying to keep fellow competitors away from the sixth floor, probably to put them off the scent of whatever clocks and octopuses were up there.
She decided she would visit the sixth floor next, but just then the clock in the mirror chimed the hour for three o’clock and Eve realised she was late for her afternoon tea with Mrs. Roth.
Chapter 25
The veranda was busy when Eve arrived. Rattan armchairs were set at round tables covered in pristine white cloths. Waiters and waitresses bustled between them, delivering pots of tea and art deco cake stands, with loops of pearls and crystals hung gracefully from every tier. The mountains looked like a painting in the distance and the lake was coloured blue as a sapphire by the sky above. It was impossible not to relish the purity of the air.
Eve scanned the veranda and quickly spotted Mrs. Roth waiting at a table set for two at the end of the terrace. As she walked over, she passed another table occupied by Jane and a little girl with blue ribbons in her hair. She was about three years old and wore a lacy ivory dress. Eve stared. It was her younger self, reaching for a peppermint cream, biting into it, and letting out a giggle of pure delight.
Eve returned Jane’s wave before continuing to the other table. The free chair was positioned so that it looked back the way she had come, giving her a good view of Jane and the back of little Eve’s head. She tried to keep her attention fixed on her companion as she pulled the chair out and sat down. The table was set with alavender-grey tea set, identical to the one Eve owned except for the fact that it was in pristine condition.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said. “I became a bit caught up in the scavenger hunt.”
“Never mind,” Mrs. Roth replied. “You’re here now.”
She was wearing a long-sleeved dress in mulberry purple with a lace jabot and matching gloves. She looked frail and a little hunched, shifting about where she sat. Eve briefly wondered whether she should offer to fetch her some extra cushions or a blanket or something. How did this woman fit into the Roth family tree? Could she possibly have been Nikolas Roth’s wife? She seemed about the right age, but hadn’t Anna said they’d lost both their parents recently? When she asked, the old woman said, “It’s a little hard to keep track of the Roths sometimes, I imagine. There’s rather a lot of us, these days.”
“But you did know Nikolas Roth?” Eve pressed.
The old woman nodded slowly. “Yes,” she said. “I knew him.”
“He’s a bit of an enigma in my time period,” Eve said. “Because he was so possessive and secretive about his art, I mean.”
Eve looked at Mrs. Roth expectantly, but she only gazed back.
“Do you know why he was like that?” Eve asked directly. “Why he refused to sell his paintings or even exhibit them outside the hotel?”
Mrs. Roth remained silent once again, and for a moment, Eve wondered whether she had even heard her. Perhaps she wasn’t all there, mentally. She was extremely old, after all. But then she said in a quiet, thin voice, “Yes. I know why Nikolas was protective of his paintings. It was because of the secret.”
“Secret?” Eve’s interest was piqued by the word and she leaned forwards slightly. “What secret?”
Mrs. Roth shook her head. “It isn’t mine to tell. I promised I would never breathe it to any living soul.” She cleared her throat and went on in a stronger voice. “Anyway, I don’t wish to talk aboutNikolas Roth. We should discuss his children instead. I understand you’ve already met Harry, the oldest of the three. And his sister, Anna—she’s the youngest. How about Tristan?”
“Tristan?”
“The middle brother. He’s the resident librarian. And he takes care of the clocks.”
“I don’t think I’ve met him,” Eve replied, confused by the line of conversation. It occurred to her that Tristan might be a useful person to seek out, though. If he wound the clocks, then he’d know where they all were. “Why did Nikolas Roth leave the hotel to Anna if she’s the youngest?” she asked. “And a woman too.”
“Who can say?” Mrs. Roth rapidly blinked her watery eyes. “But I imagine he thought that Anna understands the hotel the best. Ah, I see Nan can’t resist making a monkey of herself, as usual.”
Eve twisted in her chair to see the little girl peering through the ironwork at them. The next second, she’d vanished with a giggle.
“She’ll get a spanking if Anna catches her,” Mrs. Roth remarked, but her tone was an indulgent one.
The next moment, Nan popped up again a little further down the railings, peering up at Jane and giving her an enthusiastic wave. Jane smiled at her and waved back. Then Nan leaned up to three-year-old Eve and whispered something that made her giggle. Nan’s hand shot through the bars and deposited something on Eve’s lap. Adult Eve couldn’t make out what it was—perhaps a peppermint cream pinched from one of the other tables. The next second, Nan had scampered away.
“Good afternoon, ladies. May I serve tea?”
A smiling waitress appeared beside them, a silver tray in her hands. She was in her early thirties and had the same auburn hair as Nan.
