door. Or that small elevator — what about that?”
Merganzer shook his head. “No, that’s not going to work. And there are no doors, not yet.”
“Well, make one, you imbecile!”
Miss Harrington had forgotten that Merganzer D. Whippet was her boss and quite possibly the only person who could get her out of the predicament she was in.
“I’ll send in some tea, pronto!” Merganzer said. And then he was gone, for he hated confrontations, and besides, he wanted to play with the ducks, not talk to a hotel manager.
“Merganzer!” Miss Harrington yelled. But it was no use.
Merganzer D. Whippet was no longer there.
Leo, Remi, and Alfred were sealed inside four walls and a top made of frosted glass, the kind that can’t be seen through. They could make out shapes in the distance, and movements and strange sounds, but they could not see into the vast room beyond the glass, where the second floor of the new Whippet Hotel lay hidden. There were things moving out there, but they couldn’t see what they were. Black letters in all different shapes and sizes were trapped inside the glass. They looked fuzzy, like deep shadows, and they begged to be touched. So of course Remi touched one.
“I think I broke it,” Remi said, because when he touched a letter A , it burst into gray like a pile of ashesunder a tennis shoe. A second later, the letter A appeared inside the glass in a new place.
“Hmmmmm,” Remi said, rubbing his chin. The situation was taxing his brain in a way that made his head hurt a little bit. He reached out and touched about twenty letters in the space of two seconds, then did his best karate kick to one side and then another, knocking out four more letters in the blink of an eye.
“He’s faster than he looks,” Alfred said as the letters all returned in different places inside the dusty glass.
“Oh yeah,” Leo said. “It runs in the family. We’re all like ninjas.”
“ Lightning ninjas,” Remi added, popping his knuckles as he looked around with a perplexed look on his face. The frosted glass walls hadn’t burst into a million pieces at the sheer force of his awesomeness.
“Look here,” Alfred said, pointing his cane up to the ceiling but not touching a letter I .
“Hey, it’s a message!” Remi shouted. “Good going, Mr. Whitney. I can karate chop that cane of yours in two if you ever, you know, find yourself crawling around on the ground and need it shortened.”
“I appreciate that, Remi. Really.”
Remi nodded and the three of them looked at the message written over their heads. Alfred had the mostperfect voice ever — low and smooth like an old black-and-white movie actor’s — and he read the words so everyone could hear them: “I have a little house in which I live all alone. It has no doors or windows, and if I want to go out I must break through a wall.”
“It’s a very Merganzer kind of riddle,” Remi observed.
“For sure,” Leo added. “And a very Merganzer kind of trap.”
“Let’s see what Blop thinks.” Remi pulled the coffee-cup-size robot out of his red jacket pocket.
“Hey, Blop,” Remi said. “Where would I live if I had a little house and I lived all alone and there were no doors or windows? Oh, and if I want out, I break down a wall.”
Leo, Remi, and Alfred listened carefully as Blop, the tiny tin robot of many words, began deciphering the riddle.
“If there are no doors and no windows, then there must not be any glass. That rules out approximately ninety-three percent of all known structures in the category of ‘house.’ My calculations tell me … igloo.”
“Yeah, but an igloo has a door,” Leo pointed out.
“Not in the dead of night. Eskimos block the entry. It’s a wall at night.”
Alfred started punching letters in the frosty glass, first an I , then a G , and so on until he spelled out the word igloo .
Nothing happened.
“Got any other ideas?” Remi asked Blop, which was probably a mistake, because Blop always
Merganzer shook his head. “No, that’s not going to work. And there are no doors, not yet.”
“Well, make one, you imbecile!”
Miss Harrington had forgotten that Merganzer D. Whippet was her boss and quite possibly the only person who could get her out of the predicament she was in.
“I’ll send in some tea, pronto!” Merganzer said. And then he was gone, for he hated confrontations, and besides, he wanted to play with the ducks, not talk to a hotel manager.
“Merganzer!” Miss Harrington yelled. But it was no use.
Merganzer D. Whippet was no longer there.
Leo, Remi, and Alfred were sealed inside four walls and a top made of frosted glass, the kind that can’t be seen through. They could make out shapes in the distance, and movements and strange sounds, but they could not see into the vast room beyond the glass, where the second floor of the new Whippet Hotel lay hidden. There were things moving out there, but they couldn’t see what they were. Black letters in all different shapes and sizes were trapped inside the glass. They looked fuzzy, like deep shadows, and they begged to be touched. So of course Remi touched one.
“I think I broke it,” Remi said, because when he touched a letter A , it burst into gray like a pile of ashesunder a tennis shoe. A second later, the letter A appeared inside the glass in a new place.
“Hmmmmm,” Remi said, rubbing his chin. The situation was taxing his brain in a way that made his head hurt a little bit. He reached out and touched about twenty letters in the space of two seconds, then did his best karate kick to one side and then another, knocking out four more letters in the blink of an eye.
“He’s faster than he looks,” Alfred said as the letters all returned in different places inside the dusty glass.
“Oh yeah,” Leo said. “It runs in the family. We’re all like ninjas.”
“ Lightning ninjas,” Remi added, popping his knuckles as he looked around with a perplexed look on his face. The frosted glass walls hadn’t burst into a million pieces at the sheer force of his awesomeness.
“Look here,” Alfred said, pointing his cane up to the ceiling but not touching a letter I .
“Hey, it’s a message!” Remi shouted. “Good going, Mr. Whitney. I can karate chop that cane of yours in two if you ever, you know, find yourself crawling around on the ground and need it shortened.”
“I appreciate that, Remi. Really.”
Remi nodded and the three of them looked at the message written over their heads. Alfred had the mostperfect voice ever — low and smooth like an old black-and-white movie actor’s — and he read the words so everyone could hear them: “I have a little house in which I live all alone. It has no doors or windows, and if I want to go out I must break through a wall.”
“It’s a very Merganzer kind of riddle,” Remi observed.
“For sure,” Leo added. “And a very Merganzer kind of trap.”
“Let’s see what Blop thinks.” Remi pulled the coffee-cup-size robot out of his red jacket pocket.
“Hey, Blop,” Remi said. “Where would I live if I had a little house and I lived all alone and there were no doors or windows? Oh, and if I want out, I break down a wall.”
Leo, Remi, and Alfred listened carefully as Blop, the tiny tin robot of many words, began deciphering the riddle.
“If there are no doors and no windows, then there must not be any glass. That rules out approximately ninety-three percent of all known structures in the category of ‘house.’ My calculations tell me … igloo.”
“Yeah, but an igloo has a door,” Leo pointed out.
“Not in the dead of night. Eskimos block the entry. It’s a wall at night.”
Alfred started punching letters in the frosty glass, first an I , then a G , and so on until he spelled out the word igloo .
Nothing happened.
“Got any other ideas?” Remi asked Blop, which was probably a mistake, because Blop always
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