"Interesting," the Pillar says.
"It's a location." I raise my hands in the air. "Like snipers and policemen in movies, when they say shoot this one in the six o'clock direction."
"Frabjous," the Pillar says. "And where is six o'clock as a location?"
"Right behind me," I turn around, back to Lewis Carroll’s portrait.
"Like the Cheshire used to say: if you don't know where you're going, any road will get you there,” the Pillar says.
Chapter 23
It doesn’t matter how long I inspect Lewis Carroll’s portrait, I don't find anything strange. It's devastating. Even the tourists start to get bored, all except the old woman. She is most attentive.
"Tell me Alice, does Lewis Carroll grin in the portrait?"
"No." I double check, in case my eyes are giving up on me. I had one shot of my medication early this morning. I might need another one, since I'm beginning to tire.
"Damn. That would have been classic," the Pillar says.
"Maybe it's something behind the portrait," I suggest.
"I know what six o'clock might be!" the old woman interrupts. Her grin is ridiculous. She is enjoying this more than a seven year old would enjoy an Alice in Wonderland book with pictures.
"Okay?" She might be my last resort.
"Six o'clock is when the Mad Hatter froze time by singing in his awful voice. The Red Queen said that," she says.
"The lady is actually right," the Pillar speaks in my ear.
"So what?" I wonder. "What's the Mad Hatter got to do with this?”
"It might not be a direct reference to the Hatter. What is the Hatter famous for?”
“Tea, his hat, and mad parties,” I reply.
“That’s the answer,” he says, but I don’t get it.
"I think it could be the teacups in the entrance of the Great Hall,” the old woman suggests. “Wherever the Hatter goes, there are teacups.” I don't even know if she knows what's going on. She thinks this is some kind of interactive assembly by Oxford University to entertain the tourists, I guess.
"I always thought Lewis Carroll’s books were suitable for nine to ninety year olds," the Pillar says. "She isn't over ninety by any chance, is she?"
"Shut up." I dart across the hall, pushing the tourists away. I catch the eyes of a security guard, but he doesn’t approach me. I wonder if he knows about me.
I arrive back at the entrance with the huge table with plates and tens of empty teacups on it. I check each and every teacup.
"She's Alice Bond," the old woman claps her hands.
"All cups are empty. All but one," I tell the Pillar.
"Does it say ‘drink me’?" the Pillar says in his whimsical voice.
I don't even waste time. My fingers reach into the tea in the cup, and they touch something. Here it is, just what I was looking for.
"It's another watch… digital," I say.
"Working?" the Pillar asks.
"No."
"Rub it like you’d rub a bottle with a genie in it," I hear him take a drag. "I'm sure it will start counting downwards."
"Why?" I rub it with my sleeve anyway.
"The last watch in the cheese was ticking, and it probably stopped when you rubbed it. This one will work once you rub it. It's just the kind of nonsense the Cheshire would insure."
“But the time was fixed on six o’clock then. He couldn’t have predicted when I’d rub it,” I say.
“A watch can still when its hour and minute hands are fixed, Alice. It’s not that hard. Now rub this one.”
I do. The Pillar is right. It's a stopwatch. The clock’s digital counter starts counting backwards. Six minutes in, I tell the Pillar.
“So we have only six minutes left. A new deadline,” the Pillar comments. “Tick. Rewind. The madness begins again.”
Chapter 24
"There must be some other clue in the teacup, because this is definitely the last mile in the puzzle," the Pillar suggests.
The old woman pulls a folded piece of paper from the cup with that silly grin on her face.
"A paper," I unfold it, and read it to the Pillar. "It says: 'a four letter doublet.'"
"That’s what I call exciting," the Pillar says. "What else does it say?"
"There is a drawing of a door, then an arrow that points from the door to a drawing of a lock," I say. "What the snicker snack is a doublet?" I have no idea why I am talking in the Pillar's slang all of a sudden.
"A doublet, also called a ‘word ladder,’ is a game invented by Lewis Carroll in the Christmas of 1877," the Pillar lectures. "It's a simple game. I tell you a four-letter word, and ask you to turn it into another word by changing one alphabet at a time."
"What?" my head is frying. I can't even focus on the game.
"Let's say I ask you to turn the word ‘Word’ into the word ‘Gold.’ First, you'd change ‘Word’ into ‘Wood’ by changing one letter, then you’d change ‘Wood’ into ‘Good.’ Then finally, you change one last letter in ‘Good’ and turn it into ‘Gold.’ Easy Peasy, if you ask me."