The chauffeur saved him. He came in just then carrying the luggage, and Luke simply followed him. Up the stairs, down a long, stately hail. Up more stairs, just a half flight, into an entirely different wing of the house. Finally, when Luke was sure he’d walked more than a mile, the chauffeur deposited Luke’s luggage and Smits’s luggage in adjoining rooms.
Luke hesitated in the doorway of what must have been Lee’s room. He looked back at Smits and Oscar, who were still lingering in the hall.
“Just leave me alone!” Smits snarled. “I’m home now! I’m safe! Okay?”
“You think there is not danger here?” Oscar replied. “You think I believe that you are not dangerous here?”
Luke slipped into Lee’s room, hoping the other two hadn’t noticed him listening. And then, staring, he forgot everything else.
The whole rest of the house was luxurious and elegant beyond belief But Lee’s room was the first place that looked fun. At one end of the room four couches were clustered around a large-screen TV An entire video arcade lurked in a nearby alcove. Another alcove looked like a sporting goods store: Skis, golf clubs, hockey sticks, tennis rackets, and entire barrels of footballs, baseballs, and basketballs were arranged artfully in every corner. A third alcove held a set of drums and three guitars.
“You play?” the chauffeur asked. Luke had totally forgotten about him. But he was staring longingly at the guitars.
“Some,” Luke lied, figuring that the real Lee must have. He hoped the chauffeur wouldn’t ask for a demonstration.
But the chauffeur only nodded and bowed, and walked out.
Luke wandered around the room for a while, feeling lost. He looked into drawers of neatly folded clothes. He pulled out a pair of pants and held them up against his own waist. The pant legs ended about the same place as the pants he was actually wearing, but he wasn’t sure what that proved. Had the real Lee been about the same height as Luke, or had the Grants secretly found out what size clothes Luke wore, and stocked the room accordingly?
Luke was really looking for something personal — some proof that a real boy had lived here. Initials carved in the bed frame, maybe, or an old drawing of an airplane that Mrs. Grant (or the nanny?) had deemed too special to be thrown out. Luke would even have settled for some signs of wear on the basketballs. But everything looked new and unused. If this had truly been the real Lee’s room, he’d passed through this place without leaving behind so much as a smudge on the wall.
Or all signs of his presence had been erased.
Luke shivered at that thought Suddenly spooked, he went next door to Smits’s room, which was every bit as expansive as Lee’s.
Smits was sprawled across the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Oscar was nowhere in sight.
“Smits, can you tell me…” Luke began.
Smits shook his head and put his finger over his lips. He pointed over to an open door, where Luke could see a figure in a black dress bent over a porcelain sink. A maid was cleaning the bathroom.
“Oh, yeah, it’s great to be home,” Smits said. “Home, where even the walls have ears.~~
“I just wondered if you wanted to go down with me and get a snack,” Luke finished lamely.