mortmain

{Part Three}

Had he done anything to draw the attention of the management? He knew that it could prove fatal.

Skidd drew alongside a panting, and still masticating, Mister Blather. Blather raised a chubby eyebrow. "So you could join us at last, could you Mister Skidd?" It took the greatest of self-control for Skidd not to wrinkle his nose at the uncouth owner. Cake still rained down on the front of Blather's pinstrip suit, and Skidd was sure he felt a mist of finer crumbs landing on his cheeks and - worse! - his own lips. He kept his face stony and nodded. "Thplendid!" Blather roared, and abruptly stopped by an unmarked door. He fumbled in his trouser pockets for a minute, clamping his elbows down to keep a file under his arm. Skidd stood back and watched the spectacle.

Eventually Blather withdrew a diamond-studded keyring from his pocket. Coins, pieces of pocket-lint, and the body of a mouse tumbled to the floor. Skidd, standing out of Blather's line of sight, raised an eyebrow. He'd heard about this keyring before, the rooms it allowed entry to were the stuff of office legend. He didn't know if he should feel excited or extremely nervous about this new development. It depended, he knew, which of the office legends he chose to believe.

After fumbling the key into the lock, Mister Blather swung the door open with as close to theatrical gusto as his stubby arms and limited imagination would allow. Skidd's eyebrows shot up even further. The open door revealed an ancient stone staircase, lit by a naked bulb which was swinging in crazy circles as a gust of foetid air blew up from below.

"After you, Mister Skidd," said Blather, waving his sausage fingers with perverse delicacy in front of his grotesquely bulging waistcoat. "After you!"

{To Be Continued...}