to do something constructive.
Rory felt equally unenthusiastic about the prospect of a tour with Grog, but kept his feelings to himself. Perhaps it was the grumpy little man who turned guests into statistics for the morgue, thought Rory. Having had his first taste of the inside of the building, Grog’s company didn’t exactly feel like a guarantee of safety.
“One final thing.” Granville Grimm’s voice had become sterner. Rory was in no doubt that whatever was about to follow was a command that he was expected to listen to and obey. “Corridor Five is off limits because …” he paused. “Well, it’s just off limits.”
Something made Rory want to ask more questions, but it was clear that this part of the conversation was now firmly closed and it quickly followed that the meeting had ended too as Granville Grimm concluded the business. “I look forward to seeing you back here in one week’s time with your proposals.” With that, he stood up, turned and disappeared into the shadows. Only the click of a door told Rory that Granville Grimm had left the room.
Still in the giant seat, Rory wondered what he was supposed to do next. The grating rasp of Grog clearing his throat, brought him to his senses. His tour was about to start.
10. The guided tour
Rory wondered if Granville Grimm was expecting Grog to provide a tour commentary as they went through the dingy corridors. If that was the case, then the odd little man was falling well short of the mark.
“Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous … don’t want more guests anyway … better off without them.”
Given this succession of complaints, Rory tried to make out what might be Hotel Grimm’s features of interest. However, he found it difficult to pick out many details in the darkness other than a continuation of shabby carpets and raggedy curtains. Nothing in Grog’s manner invited any questions, so Rory remained mystified as to what might draw visitors to the hotel. However, as they turned into a corridor to find the walls covered in unframed painted canvases, curiosity got the better of him.
“Who painted these?” Rory called ahead.
“Stop dawdling!” snapped Grog.
Rory slowed down as much as he could without losing track of Grog, sensing something familiar about the paintings. The canvases were clustered around one door on which “GG” was painted in large letters. Granville Grimm himself appeared to be the artist. It occurred to Rory that the fact that the hotel owner was quietly spoken, polite and painted portraits had never appeared in the stories about him.
Grog had already rounded the next corner like an unstoppable, limping toy. Glancing back as he moved on, Rory could have sworn that there was a movement in the shadows. He caught up with Grog, who was wheezing heavily as he eased himself down a short flight of stairs to open some double glass doors.
“What’s this?” asked Rory walking into a large space. It had littleto offer other than stacks of chairs and a wooden floor badly in need of a sweep.
“Ballroom,” snapped Grog.
The room was far less gloomy than everywhere else and looking up Rory realized that it had a glass roof. Hints of the hotel’s turrets were visible through a coating of moss and grime. Rory struggled to imagine this drab room full of dancers with a band in full swing.
“Has this been used much in the past?” Rory asked trying to prompt more from his guide. Grog grunted. Frustrated by the continuing lack of information, Rory snapped.
“Do you like dancing yourself?”
Expecting at least a “harrumph” in reply to such an impertinent question, Rory was stopped in his tracks as the butler’s whispery voice answered: “I used to.” Too taken aback to ask any more, Rory was suddenly distracted by something under his foot.
“What’s this?” said Rory looking at the small brass plaque screwed into the floor. The inscription was letters and numbers. “ LG : 5.12.29–28.8.48”.
Grog looked at Rory long
Rory felt equally unenthusiastic about the prospect of a tour with Grog, but kept his feelings to himself. Perhaps it was the grumpy little man who turned guests into statistics for the morgue, thought Rory. Having had his first taste of the inside of the building, Grog’s company didn’t exactly feel like a guarantee of safety.
“One final thing.” Granville Grimm’s voice had become sterner. Rory was in no doubt that whatever was about to follow was a command that he was expected to listen to and obey. “Corridor Five is off limits because …” he paused. “Well, it’s just off limits.”
Something made Rory want to ask more questions, but it was clear that this part of the conversation was now firmly closed and it quickly followed that the meeting had ended too as Granville Grimm concluded the business. “I look forward to seeing you back here in one week’s time with your proposals.” With that, he stood up, turned and disappeared into the shadows. Only the click of a door told Rory that Granville Grimm had left the room.
Still in the giant seat, Rory wondered what he was supposed to do next. The grating rasp of Grog clearing his throat, brought him to his senses. His tour was about to start.
10. The guided tour
Rory wondered if Granville Grimm was expecting Grog to provide a tour commentary as they went through the dingy corridors. If that was the case, then the odd little man was falling well short of the mark.
“Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous … don’t want more guests anyway … better off without them.”
Given this succession of complaints, Rory tried to make out what might be Hotel Grimm’s features of interest. However, he found it difficult to pick out many details in the darkness other than a continuation of shabby carpets and raggedy curtains. Nothing in Grog’s manner invited any questions, so Rory remained mystified as to what might draw visitors to the hotel. However, as they turned into a corridor to find the walls covered in unframed painted canvases, curiosity got the better of him.
“Who painted these?” Rory called ahead.
“Stop dawdling!” snapped Grog.
Rory slowed down as much as he could without losing track of Grog, sensing something familiar about the paintings. The canvases were clustered around one door on which “GG” was painted in large letters. Granville Grimm himself appeared to be the artist. It occurred to Rory that the fact that the hotel owner was quietly spoken, polite and painted portraits had never appeared in the stories about him.
Grog had already rounded the next corner like an unstoppable, limping toy. Glancing back as he moved on, Rory could have sworn that there was a movement in the shadows. He caught up with Grog, who was wheezing heavily as he eased himself down a short flight of stairs to open some double glass doors.
“What’s this?” asked Rory walking into a large space. It had littleto offer other than stacks of chairs and a wooden floor badly in need of a sweep.
“Ballroom,” snapped Grog.
The room was far less gloomy than everywhere else and looking up Rory realized that it had a glass roof. Hints of the hotel’s turrets were visible through a coating of moss and grime. Rory struggled to imagine this drab room full of dancers with a band in full swing.
“Has this been used much in the past?” Rory asked trying to prompt more from his guide. Grog grunted. Frustrated by the continuing lack of information, Rory snapped.
“Do you like dancing yourself?”
Expecting at least a “harrumph” in reply to such an impertinent question, Rory was stopped in his tracks as the butler’s whispery voice answered: “I used to.” Too taken aback to ask any more, Rory was suddenly distracted by something under his foot.
“What’s this?” said Rory looking at the small brass plaque screwed into the floor. The inscription was letters and numbers. “ LG : 5.12.29–28.8.48”.
Grog looked at Rory long
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