Chapter Fifty-Four
Mifkin and Aloysius proceeded to the laundry room, where they found Annette sitting in a chair, reading.
“We’re revolting against Voot,” Mifkin began.
“Why?”
“Tell her why, Aloysius.”
“Because we don’t like him.”
“You’re going along with this?” she asked him.
Aloysius shrugged. “He asked me first.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if Voot had asked me first to join a counter-insurgency against Mifkin, I wouldn’t have cared to rebuff him.”
She scoff-laughed and went back to her book.
“So. . .can we count on your support?” Mifkin asked her.
She ignored the question.
Next they found Modeste, sat on the floor in the corner of an empty room, staring at nothingness.
“Modeste,” Mifkin hailed her. “We’re revolting against Voot. Join us?”
She grunted—and a well-known stench puffed out from her dress.
Next they found Larry in his room. He danced, gloriously, heedlessly, within the tiny chamber while they asked him. He would not answer; he probably hadn’t even heard them, their corporally petty voices unable to travel to the realm to which he was transported.
Some other, frankly nameless, members of staff agreed to join them, while others, for various reasons, refused. The last, Curtis/Thaddeus, who had never had any love for Voot, nevertheless chose to act indignant.
“You are traitors to the hotel, gentlemen! Both of you!”
“Come off it, Curtis,” said Aloysius.
“My name is ‘Thaddeus’, damn you!”
“We’ll call you ‘Thaddeus’ if you join our coup. How about that?” offered Mifkin.
Curtis/Thaddeus adopted a wide stance and knuckled his fists into his hips. “I compliment myself that I retain sufficient honour to deafen myself to disreputable pleas. Instead, I vow to inform Herr Voot of your treachery!”
He ran off. Panicking, Mifkin asked: “What do we do?!”
“It’s simple,” Aloysius shrugged. “We make a move. Tonight.”