With a spring in her step, Polly walked briskly down the hallway. She didn’t have to pull Herodotus by the hand now; his nerves were still jangling from the elevator ride and he was afraid of lagging behind, of getting lost in this increasingly confusing mansion.
She paused beside the green door. “You can’t go in here,” she said.
“Why would I want to?”
“Because it’s forbidden,” she said darkly. “They always want to go in when I say it’s forbidden.” She continued on and stopped beside a door on her left about halfway down the hall. “This is the gym,” she said. “Come on in.”
It was a large room, as big as any high school gymnasium. It was not exactly what Herodotus had been expecting. No treadmill, no exerbike, no Nautilus, no Stairmaster—none of the modern appurtenances. Instead, there
