It was very much the same plan as Bentam and Harriet had earlier done at Mrs. Pinot's home: Bentam would distract the household with paperwork and documents, and the rest would search his home under the guise that they were searching for the restroom. "Are we ready?" Bentam said to the rest as he approached Jon Starr's door.

"Yes," Mittie said, her eyes determined.

Harriet only nodded, her eyes brimming with excitement.

"I surely hope so," Tracey sighed, trying hard to ignore the knots forming in her stomach. She swallowed and shook the feeling away, looking at the door.

Bentam nodded and turned the door's gear handle, starting off its chain of gears. Soon enough, they produced small clouds of steam and finally ended in a familiar 'ting-ting'.

Almost immediately, the door swung open. A familiar tall and slim man stood in the doorway: Hassan, Jon Starr's butler. His eyes locked with Tracey's and narrowed in suspicion. Tracey's mind flashed back to the earlier night at BaldgrassTheatre, where she heard him there with Rollo when Charlie was kidnapped. "May I help you?" he evenly said.

"Yes," Bentam said, stepping forward and holding up a small folder. "I'm here to discuss more on the case of Jon's fraudulent performances."

"We weren't expecting you. I'm afraid that he's busy at the moment."

"May we wait inside? It's rather pressing, and I cannot move this case forward with the High Constable until I can sort this out with Jon."

"I do not mind you coming in, Mr. Berkley, but may I ask why...," Hassan paused to fix a scathing glare on Tracey, "you're bringing guests with you once again?"

Tracey stifled a nervous gulp, instead steadily holding the butler's scowl.

"They're with me on business, once again. Unfortunately, I had to walk and work with this group."

Hassan stared at each of them in turn, his eyebrows knitting as he was deliberating what he should do. Finally, he sighed and stepped to the side. "Come in. I see you've all remembered that Jon does not like dirt or dust, thank you for remaining clean."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mittie hissed to Tracey, who rolled her eyes in turn.

Tracey barely noticed the grand entryway as they entered into Jon's home. She was instead thinking of their next steps. She hovered back, watching as Hassan ushered Bentam into the sitting room, and looked to Mittie and Harriet. Harriet looked expectantly back to Tracey, and Mittie nodded as if to say she was ready.

"Excuse me," Tracey called out to the butler. He turned around, his eyes squinting in a glare.

"Can I help you?" he frostily said.

"Yes, we've been walking all this time with Bentam, and I'm afraid that we have need of the powder room. Could you direct us to it?"

Hassan hesitated.

"Please, sir?" Harriet said, clasping her hands innocently.

He sighed. "Mr. Berkley, please wait there. I'll get Mr. Starr shortly." He turned back to the group. "Follow me."

As they walked away, Tracey caught Bentam's eye. He held the gaze for a moment, then looked away, bowing his head in a subtle nod. She took a deep breath and followed the butler, willing her steps to push her forward.

Tracey lagged behind the rest as they climbed the grand stairs and entered a spacious hallway. She looked around, noticing the wall art. Along the walls were posters of Jon's previous performances, all of which seemed to feature him in the forefront. Tracey looked at doorway after doorway, trying to imagine where Mr. Porter and Charlie could possibly be hidden away. Behind the forest green door? Or maybe perhaps through the arched entryway, where its contents were shrouded in darkness? "Please keep up," Hassan said, slicing through her thoughts. His eyes seemed to pin Tracey in place. "Is there something of interest to you?"

"N-no," she stammered.

"Then please keep pace with me."

"Oh, yes, of course," Tracey responded, quickening her pace.

As she approached the others, Harriet discreetly looked back to her and Mittie, the latter of which had lagged behind to admire the posters. Harriet pointed at a hallway.

"Hide there," Harriet mouthed.

Tracey nodded, then gestured to Mittie. "Over there."

Mittie glanced from Tracey to the hallway, an incredulous stare on her face.

"Go now!" Tracey noiselessly said, pointing more insistently.

Carefully, they drifted over to the hallway, then darted in. Harriet waved, smiled, and then turned her attention back to Hassan. "Do you think you could tell me more on these posters, sir? I find this all very interesting!" She cheerfully said, running ahead to touch one.

"Miss, I ask you to refrain from touching the posters!" he called out as he darted after her.

"Looks like we're in the clear," Mittie finally said as the two moved out of sight. "Let's go."

As they had earlier planned, the two turned back and descended down the stairs, passing briefly by the waiting room to give Bentam a thumbs up, and then into another hallway. "If Bentam remembers properly," Tracey said, scanning the doors, "the basement should be—ouch!"

The sudden exclamation was caused by Mittie, who abruptly jabbed Tracey in the side, vigorously pointing to the door at the end of the hall. The door creaked open, and a large figure began to appear. They exchanged glances, their eyes wide and mouth agape. "Rollo!" Tracey hissed. She grabbed at the door immediately behind them and pulled Mittie in with her, closing the door as quietly and quickly as possible.

They held their breaths as they heard his heavy footsteps click through the hall. The footsteps stopped in front of their door. Tracey held her breath, not even daring to let out the faintest of exhale. Next to her, Mittie was tensed, her jaw clenched. They could hear his breathing.

"Hmm," he grunted.

Finally, he walked away, his steps fading in the distance. Tracey exhaled, and Mittie shook herself. "That was too close," Mittie said.

"Yes, that was," Tracey agreed. She quickly located a switch, turned on the lights, and looked around at her surroundings. "Hey, Mittie," she said, "doesn't this room look awfully like..."

"A funhouse?" Mittie completed.

The space did indeed look like a funhouse. The walls were a rather offensive shade of orange and red, the carpeting was a bright shade of purple, and the light fixtures seemed to be more whimsical than practical. Mirrors adorned the ceilings, walls, and even the door.

"Weird...I thought we were looking for a basement," Mittie said with a frown.

"Look, stairs," Tracey said, pointing.

Blending into the confusing array of colors were the stairs, descending down into a yellow passageway.

"That's our best chance at a basement, right?"

"So the funhouse was the basement!" Mittie quietly exclaimed. "Will ya look at that."

Tracey turned off the lights, and then they began their careful descent down to where they had earlier seen the stairs, being sure to listen behind for any sounds of people approaching behind. The stairs opened up to a surprisingly drab hall at the bottom, and lights were on. Its walls and floors were plain stone, unlike the entrance at the top of the stairs. "It's just...a basement?" Tracey said in bewilderment.

"I thought it'd be a bit more than this," Mittie agreed. "Maybe Jon never finished it..."

Tracey wandered down the hall. "Oh," she said. "It splits here? We should stick together."

"This place isn't exactly the sort of place I'd want to be splitting from ya either," Mittie nervously chuckled. "Let's go right."

They walked down the hall, only to be met with three more paths. "Is this a maze?" Tracey said.

"Certainly feels like it." Mittie looked between the three. "I'll let you choose this time."

"Alright...," she replied. Tracey looked at each of the three paths. They all seemed rather ordinary, nothing out of place. It was hard to discern where any of them led to. "Hm..." She looked closer. "I see more light down two of them, except for the middle one. We should be avoiding anyone, and we don't know where Jon is either, so I say we take the middle."

Tracey and Mittie cautiously walked down the hall, descending deeper into the labyrinth of Jon's basement. Soon to their right, was an opening. "That's the same light I saw from earlier!" Tracey whispered, pointing down the opening.

"These paths must've led into each other, I suppose."

"Let's keep going this way—."

"Hello?" a voice called out.

Tracey and Mittie froze and looked at each other. That's not Charlie or Mr. Porter, Tracey thought, a sinking feeling in her stomach. "Run?" Tracey silently said. Mittie panickedly looked between the opening and the hall ahead.

"Nowhere to hide!" Mittie responded.

Footsteps sounded from the adjacent opening. A person's shadow was now visible. "Is anyone there? Hello?"

"Retreat?" Tracey asked.

Mittie nodded, and the two began to turn back. Unfortunately, they were unable to get far before the person exited the opening. "Hello?" Jon Starr said as he came bursting into the hallway. He spun to face them, his eyes wide and eyebrows knitted. "Oh!" he said, smiling in relief and holding his chest. "You scared me, for a second I thought it might've been a burglar."

They awkwardly stood across from him, still in a walking stance.

"Ah...," Jon awkwardly started. "Tracey and Mittie, is it?" he finally said.

"Y-yes," Mittie stammered, her face seemingly devoid of color. Tracey could feel that her own face was pale.

"We're sorry!" Tracey blurted, stepping forward. "We were looking for the powder room."

Jon stared.

"We got distracted by your performance posters, y'see?" Mittie added. "And by the time we realized it, your butler was already gone with our other friend!"

"Oh...?" he slowly said, a frown appearing on his face.

"And we're a little lost. We didn't realize that this was such a maze!" Tracey finished, nervously laughing.

"Well," he said after a moment's hesitation, "it's a good thing I was here then, isn't it?" he said with a small smile. "This basement is quite literally a maze, I don't think you'd have found your way out of here on your own."

"Oh, we didn't get far."

"Good, good," he replied. He turned back. "Let me escort you two out."

They quietly followed Jon as he continued down the hallway that they were starting down. "So to what pleasure do I owe your visit?" he said, his demeanor noticeably more cheerful.

"We were tagging along with Mr. Berkley while he sorted out some documents with you," Mittie said.

"Really? Are you sure you didn't tag along so you could see me?" he laughed.

"Well...maybe," Mittie laughed in return.

"How delightful!" He smiled at the two of them. "It's wonderful to have you visit again. Once we get back upstairs, I'll be sure to ask Rollo to make another round of refreshments. I'm glad that I'm not terribly busy today with rehearsals as I was last time. I was simply heartbroken that I didn't have a chance to dine with you last time!"

"Oh yes," Tracey said, surreptitiously glancing at the entrances that they passed by, "I was rather disappointed myself with how short our last visit was. It's truly a pleasure to meet you again."

Jon warmly smiled, then briefly frowned. "Ah," he murmured. "If only it were under happier circumstances. Bentam is here to discuss more on those fraudulent performances plaguing me, no?"

"...he never mentioned what exactly, but I believe that would be it, yes."

"Oh, bother," he sighed. "Well, I'm sure we'll have more than enough time to eat once that's sorted out."

They walked in more silence, the hall stretching ahead.

"We're taking a different route out," he explained. "This will lead right into the sitting room. I can get Hassan to take you to the powder room again, terribly sorry for any of these inconveniences."

"Not a problem," Tracey responded, looking to the walls. Gradually, their surroundings became more finished. First, the flooring became wood, then the lighting became more ornate. Finally, they reached a section where the walls were wallpapered, and portraits hung on the wall.

"Oh!" Mittie gasped, her eyes lighting up. "Is this you, Jon?"

On the wall hung a portrait of what looked to be the boyish version of Jon Starr. Although his eyes were larger and his figure more childish, his face was unmistakably him. Even then, his eyes had a dreamy, wanderlust look about them. "Ah, yes," he gently said, smiling fondly at the portrait. "I was around seven when that was made."

"You look very much the same," Tracey said.

"I do, don't I?" He stared for a few moments longer before turning and continuing their journey. "You have a good eye, Mittie!" he said as he walked on.

Tracey dropped back to look closer at the portrait. His clothing in the painting was frilly, looking to be of fine lace. He must've always been wealthy, Tracey thought with a small verbal sigh. A glint in the lights caught her eye. The portrait's title. She quickly scanned over it.

Rodger Neal, Age 7

"Rodger Neal...?" she whispered aloud.

"What was that?" Jon called out, glancing behind. "Please keep up, Tracey. I don't want for you to get lost again!"

"Yes!" Tracey responded, running up to meet them. Her mind kept pace with her running, if not, even more frenzied than her outward appearance gave away. Rodger Neal? she thought. That makes him out to be RN as well... Then that could mean...!

"Mittie?" Tracey slowly whispered as she approached Mittie.

"Hm?" she responded. Mittie was lagging behind herself, as she was observing yet another painting that was hanging in the strangely-located gallery.

"I just realized something," she whispered. "Mrs. Pinot wants nothing to do with Jon Starr. Don't they have a feud going on?"

"That's right," Mittie quietly replied, a look of concern on her face.

"And we see that his men are unwaveringly loyal to him. I don't think blackmail would work against them."

"Yes, they do seem to be the type to use brute force rather than listening to a threat like blackmailing..."

"...unless Jon told them otherwise."

Mittie nervously glanced ahead to Jon, who was occupied with searching for the exit.

"Wouldn't it be more likely that Mrs. Pinot would be storing evidence against his fraudulent performances?" Tracey said, slowing her steps.

"You mean to say that Jon is behind the fraudulent performances, and not Mrs. Pinot?"

"Why else would Mr. Porter be kidnapped and his documents ransacked? Don't you think that it'd make more sense that Jon would kidnap Mr. Porter? He was in possession of the evidence against him, so it'd make sense that Jon would ransack the office in search of it, rather than Mrs. Pinot kidnapping Mr. Porter only because he would stop her from blackmailing. How could Jon have possibly known that Mr. Porter was going to stop the blackmailing himself? It was Mr. Porter's last entry in his journal that day!"

Mittie stopped. "Tracey...you're right." She stared at Jon.

"Now!" Jon cheerfully said, turning back to them with a broad smile. "This is the exit. Keep up, I notice you're lagging behind again. Am I walking too fast for you?"

"Oh...no, no," Tracey quickly said, raising her voice so that he could hear her. The two trotted up to him.

"After you," he graciously said, guiding Tracey through the door with a hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you," Tracey mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

Tracey looked to the ground as she carefully planted her steps. Suddenly, she realized that there were no stairs in front of her. In fact, it appeared as if it were a room with no exit save the door she was entering from.

"...Ms. Higgenbottom," he suddenly said, leaning down to quietly speak in her ear. His voice was considerably deeper than Tracey was used to hearing. "I know," he slowly said, "that you know."

Tracey's blood ran cold. Her words seemed to stick in her mouth. Finally, Tracey was able to speak. "...know what?" she croaked. She turned back just in time to see Jon's face. His smile was gone, and his face was fixed in a cold stare. Suddenly, Tracey felt a shove and heard a door slam behind her.