Arriving late, you see that "manor estate" hardly describes Hanover's spread. A small English township would be more like it. Stephen escorts you to the main entrance. Without warning he pulls out a remote and triggers a thrilling sequence of events. From enormous speakers mounted high, a symphonic overture blasts across the lawn. Thunder and lightning erupt all over the place. Stone lions stand and roar. A statue of William Shakespeare comes to life and recites a passage from "A Midsummer Night's Dream," f ollowed by a likeness of Lord Hanover himself, which appears as a giant holographic image in the sky that welcomes you to his estate. As his visage fades away, you find your driver has also vanished. But the spectacle has jogged your memory. Now you know where you'd seen this "Stephen" before -- in photos, on the Internet. Only in those pictures he was Hanover's inventor/partner, Lord Rollinsby, sans handlebars and muttonchops. Puzzled, you enter the Manor House. The place is deserted. For the first half hour you cannot find a single soul. But several disturbing events occur. Almost immediately you discover you're locked in. The lobby phones don't work. Then your bags turn up missing when you momentarily leave them unattended. You notice oddities and coincidences. There are no clocks anywhere. The featured artists in a music program playing throughout the manor are an English avant-garde group you'd never heard of until you happened to run across them just last week. Among the numerous (and otherwise Western) manor paintings, unaccountably hangs a portrait of an old man, who you immediately think resembles an aged you. He is surrounded by portaits of American Indians, none of whom fit the decor of a stately Englsh manor. Eventually you do find servants. But all of your initial encounters are confusing. At reception, PENELOPE STRATTON incorrectly informs that your room is ready and unlocked, but she has disappeared by the time you return to tell her it isn't. At the butler's office, Farnsworth hands you a letter your uncle left and slams the door in your face. Chef Leon, though able to speak passable English, pretends he can't understand a word you're saying when you see him emerging from a room as if caught in some illicit act. In separate encounters with landlord BRUCE SHERLOCK in the Falstaff; head housekeeper MILDRED SIMMONS on the second-floor rotunda; headwaiter HOMAS SUTHERLAND in the Billiards Room & Whisky Bar; doorman REGGIE McCABE and manor chauffeur SAVANNAH REDDY in the lobby, all are extremely welcoming. But after asking you to wait momentarily while they go to attend to your room key and baggage, they never return. This last encounter has left you on a sofa near the fireplace where you read your uncle's latest letter. He does not explain the family relationship; only promises there is nothing sordid about the connection and that eventually all will be revealed. He concludes by urging you to win over the entire staff, despite determined opposition you can expect from some quarters. You kill time by watching silly stories on the lobby TV about a blind, three-legged dognapped Rottweiler whose owner fears the captors may sue, and a report of a local soccer team's collapse when their goalie's vision was obcurred by congealed cooking oil dripping from his dreadlocks. Then, as you're about to doze off, a painting above the mantel morphs into the face of Lord Hanover, who whispers to you to hurry to your room because it is now unlocked. Inside, you find your baggage and two of four documents your uncle promised would be there. According to them, Arthur Hanover's official death and burial certificates arrived from a sanitarium in Switzerland and were authenticated to a local court's satisfaction. You are named in court documents that legally certify the blood relationship between you and your benefactor. However, the will and property deed are missing. There is also video mail from local reporters. But you can't get an outside line. Just before falling asleep, Farnsworth bursts into your room and in a bizzare "interrogation" accuses you of being an imposter who's come to rob him of what's rightfully his. But then, without warning, he abruptly departs. You awaken to a sumptuous champagne breakfast the kitchen has sent. More messages were left as you slept. Calls from Burton's Peerage, various genealogical societies and journalists convince you that the word is out. Your uncle again appears, this time in a bathroom mirror. He urges you to search for a special key that will unlock other rooms in your guest quarters and -- once inside -- find something that "appears to be an ordinary thing but is very special indeed." Like those from last night, the apparition is neither scary nor ghostlike; rather the holograms seem like the humorous special effects one finds in an amusement parklike Disneyland. You roam around the manor. The storm continues to rage, which prevents you from going outside. The reception area is again deserted, and you can't find any servants. But in the health spa you meet an engaging 14-year-old named CHRISTOPHER ROBIN (after the children's book character) who is Mildred Simmons' grandson here on holiday from his French boarding school. He has been looking for you, Christopher says, handing over cautionary notes, party invitations, pass keys, and one very odd remote-control device that he recently found but has no idea of how to operate. Maybe you can "sort it out." He departs, and you continue your tour of facilities. While circumnavigating the Olympic-size pool you spot a gold key with an inlaid ruby, figuring this is the key your uncle wanted you to find. Suddenly, however, you are confronted by Van Scoy. The concierge rudely orders you out of the area and hurries away before you can utter a single word. You're angry but find your strong attraction to her has only intensified. Throughout the rest of the day, you still can't find anyone to tell you what's going on. Quite by accident, though, you get the remote-controller working. It is an extraordinary device. When aimed at paintings or woodcarvings, the surface image dissolves, enabling you to see and hear activity going on in the room behind the wall. You eavesdrop on several conversations Farnsworth, Van Scoy and Leon are having about how to thwart your claim. Later, you spy Stratton in the library, hiding documents -- the missing will and deed? -- in a book she's pulled from the shelves. The arrival of the local paper and access to the local TV channel provide more comic relief from your worry and confusion. Whenever you stop by your room, you're never lucky enough to catch incoming video calls. And you still can't call out. But there is always a slew of new messages. Among them are several frantic ones left by Lord Rollinsby's son and daughter, warning you against experimenting with any of their father's devices should you run across them. (Continued)