The path ahead of her seemed nearly endless and was furnished with only two lonely commodes. All the drawers were glued shut. The only door in the entire corridor led to the Czar’s Suite. There was a spittoon – even that had a gold rim – but that was a miserable hiding place.
Mouse was sweating, and not just from running. Bit by bit, the situation was becoming serious. The Roundsman had been trying to convict her for a long time. He would drag her through the corridor by the scruff of her neck and present her triumphantly to the Concierge in the lobby. “Here, a thief! The Girl-Boy!” and then, yes then, she would be thrown out of the hotel, out into the cold of the Russian winter night. Without a space she could crawl under. Without a single copeck to buy a piece of bread or a hot tea. To say nothing of the others who would finish her off outside.
Mouse had to act. Right now. For a moment she played the the thought of swallowing the brooch. But the thing was bigger than her thumb and had a stick pin attached. Not a good idea.
She had left a third of the corridor behind her when the shadow of the Roundsman loomed over the last bend. The entrance to the Czar’s Suite, exactly in the middle of the floor, was a grandiose portal, with ornate columns on both sides and the relief of a roaring bear above the door.
In front of it stood two pairs of shoes.
Up to this point, Mouse had not gone on her daily collection tour. Her cart which she pushed through the halls with the shoes of the guests – often a hundred pairs or more per night – stood on the floor below.
Mouse had been responsible for the shoes of the guests for many years. She was well-versed in the shapes, sizes, types of leather. But in her entire life, she had never seen such curious specimens.
The one pair was two costly lady’s shoes, worked with much filigree, with high heels, and made out of a material that looked like crystal.
In harsh contrast to them stood another pair. Two old leather shoes, flat and unadorned like those worn by the street boys who begged for leftovers at the kitchen entrance. The strange thing about them was their condition – they looked as though an animal had chewed on them, after they had lain about a year in wind and weather in the forest.
Mouse had no more time to wonder about them. Following a sudden inspiration, she stuffed the brooch in one of the two ragged leather shoes – something warned her to leave the crystal pair alone – before she turned to face her pursuer. The Roundsman was not yet in eyeshot. For a moment she had gooseflesh, and in that moment, it occurred to her for the first time how unusually cold it was here. As though behind the door lay not a heated suite, but the snow-covered boulevard with its dancing whirlwinds of ice crystals.
She jumped up and ran on, leaving suite, shoes, and brooch behind her. She reached the next corner, wanted to breathe out a sigh of relief –
And ran straight into the arms of the Roundsman.
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