"T here 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 during 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 letter 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, and 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."
"So what's this got to do with saving the girl?" I glance back at the watch. Five minutes.
"The Cheshire drew a door and a lock for you," the Pillar explains. "He wants you to turn the word 'door' into the word 'lock.' And since I know how crazy he is, I imagine this is somehow your clue to unlock wherever the girl is being kept. Behind some door, probably. Better get going, Alice."
"Okay." I panic again. The old woman's eyes widen. I am not sure if she heard the Pillar, but she encourages me and tells me I can do it. "Let's remove one letter from 'door.' Let's change the R into an M. 'Doom.'" I snap my fingers.
"No. Alice, no," the Pillar says. "You can't see 'doom.' It has to be something you can see or work with where you are. Each word that will come up will help you find the real lock."
"'Door' into 'boor'?" I mumble.
"Sounds good," the Pillar says.
"What's a 'boor'?" I ask.
"A person of rude and clumsy manners. Go on. You're on the right track."
"Now we change 'boor' into… hmmm… 'book'?" I raise a finger in the air.
"Excellent. I imagine we could find a useful book nearby. Go on."
"'Book' into 'look'?" I'm improvising.
"And finally, change a single letter in 'look,' and you get 'lock.'" The Pillar claps. "Well done."
"And then what?" Four minutes left.
"Look around for a boor, Alice," the Pillar says. "Come on. You don't have much time. A boor. Listen hard for a student, a professor, or a tourist who is complaining, obnoxious, and ill-mannered. There are plenty of those in the world."
"A boor who is unpleasant and rude," I remind myself as I look around.
"My husband is definitely unpleasant," the old woman says. "He is in the next hall, arguing over the price of a book he just bought."
"A boor and a book. Two for the price of one," the Pillar nags me in my ear. "And it's not even Christmas yet."