With the keys to every room in the hotel!

But just as I’m reaching for the key to Room 407, something really annoying happens.

There’s a ting from the lift. Its doors clack open and Mr Mollusc steps out.

Of course, he sees me immediately.

“Herbert Lemon!” He spits my name as he strides towards me. “What are you doing there? Where’s Miss Griss?”

At this point, I could either lower my hand and try a grin, which would almost certainly make me look more suspicious, or I could go for a more daring approach.

I take the key.

“I’m on important Lost-and-Founder business,” I say, in my poshest voice. “Someone has left something in Room 407.”

“Sir!” Old Mollusc barks the word out.

“Er … sir?” I say.

“On Lost-and-Founder business, SIR!” Mollusc corrects, going a little crimson round the edges. “You will address me as ‘sir’ on all occasions.”

“Certainly, sir.” I snap to attention again. “Not just on certain occasions, sir, but always, sir.”

“Good. Now…”

“Sir, sir, sir!”

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Just practising.”

“Just practising, SIR!” Old Mollusc is close to bursting a blood vessel by now. A winter guest, coming out of the dining room, looks over and frowns suspiciously.

“I will, sir. Of course, sir,” I say, backing away from behind the desk with little bows, giving the manager enough respect and sirs! for him to feel he has won out over me. “Thank you, sir. I must be off now, sir.”

And, still clutching the key – and to the sound of Amber clip-clopping back into the lobby – I turn and run up the stairs.

A COIN FOR THE MERMONKEY

WHEN I REACH ROOM 407, I’m puffed out. But it doesn’t sound like old Mollusc is following me. I turn the key in the lock and push through into the dark beyond.

Room 407 is nothing special. It’s the cheapest accommodation the hotel provides. Still, the ceilings are high, and the furniture has a grandness about it, despite being old. In the single tall window, dark blue velvet curtains hang to the floor, glooming the room. I pull them open, and blink in the light.

“Let me in, quick!” says Violet in a muffled voice. She’s crouching on the tiny balcony outside. “Anyone could see me here.”

I open the window and she darts inside, followed by a hard-as-nails sea wind.

“Who?” I say. “Who could see you?”

“I don’t know,” she says, pulling her borrowed coat tight around her, and looking fearfully over her shoulder. “Anyone.”