The Mystery of the 99 Steps (10 page)

Read The Mystery of the 99 Steps Online

Authors: Carolyn G. Keene

BOOK: The Mystery of the 99 Steps
5.62Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Everyone looked eagerly at her, and Mrs. Dupont said, “Yes, Estelle?”
The maid, who was a little older than the girls, turned to Nancy. “I come from Orléans. I went to school there two years ago, and one of my masters was Monsieur Louis Aubert.”
This statement excited Nancy still more. Was she on the verge of a really big discovery?
“Tell me about the man. Was he in his fifties?” she asked.
“Yes.” Estelle described her schoolmaster in detail. He certainly could be the Louis Aubert for whom Nancy was looking!
“Can you give me his address?” she asked the maid.
“I am afraid not, except I am sure his home is in Orléans.”
“Did you ever meet his wife?” Nancy inquired.
Estelle shook her head. “I do not even know her name.”
Nancy thanked the girl, saying, “What you’ve told us might be of great help.” She also expressed her appreciation to the Duponts, who said they were very happy to have met the Americans and wished them luck in their search.
During the drive home, the entire conversation revolved about Louis Aubert. Bess remarked, “Do you suppose he’s leading a double life—one as a respectable schoolteacher, and the other as a crook?”
“It certainly looks that way,” George said.
Nancy suggested, “How about going to Orléans and checking?”
Everyone thought this a good idea. After an early breakfast the next morning the three girls set off, prepared to stay overnight if necessary.
Madame Bardot kissed them good-by, saying, “If your sleuthing in Orléans should take much time and you girls plan to stay, please phone me.”
“I certainly will,” said Nancy, “and let you know how we’re getting along.”
A short time later the girls’ conversation turned to the city of Orléans and its place in history.
“From the time I was a child,” said Bess, “Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orléans, was one of my favorite heroines.”
George added, “The idea of a girl soldier appeals to me. What terrific courage she had! That much of her story I do remember well.”
Nancy smiled. “I wish we had Joan on this trip with us. She was a pretty good detective, too.”
“Imagine a young peasant girl saving her country!” Bess remarked.
“Yes,” said Nancy. “Joan was only seventeen when she requested a horse, armor, and an escort of men from a French commander to help fight the English invaders.”
“I’ll bet he laughed at her,” George remarked.
“He did at first,” Nancy continued, “but finally consented. Joan also wanted to help put Charles VII, the Dauphin, on the throne at Reims, which was held by the English. Charles was a weak man and had little money.”
“And still he wanted to be crowned king?” George asked.
“Yes. He didn’t want the English to take over France,” Nancy went on. “When Joan arrived at Charles’ castle and offered to help, the Dauphin decided to test the peasant girl’s ability.”
“How did he do that?” George interrupted.
“By slipping in among his courtiers and asking one of the nobles to sit on the throne. But he couldn’t fool her—she showed up the hoax at once.”
Nancy smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “Joan glanced at the man on the throne, then walked directly to Charles and curtsied. Everyone was amazed, since she had never seen the Dauphin in person.”
Bess put in excitedly, “Yes, and Joan claimed she had seen a vision of the Dauphin. That’s how she knew him.”
George wrinkled her brow. “Joan finally did succeed in getting the king to Reims, didn’t she?”
“Oh, yes,” said Nancy. “Charles gave her a sword and banner and troops. In 1429 she rode into Orléans and freed the city from the English. Then the king was crowned.”
“Unfortunately,” Bess added, “she was captured a short time later and burned at the stake for heresy!”
“And you know,” Nancy concluded, “twenty-four years after Joan’s death at Rouen she was declared innocent. Now she’s a saint!”
The girls became silent, thinking about the brave peasant girl and viewing the lovely countryside of the Loire valley. The soil was rich and the air sweet with mingled scents of fruit and flowers.
Later, as Nancy pulled into the city of Orléans, Bess requested that they go directly to the famous old square called La Place Ville Martroi, where a statue of Jeanne d’Arc on horseback graced the center. Nancy parked on a side street, and the girls went to gaze at the figure in armor high on a large pedestal.
At that moment the girls heard music. “That’s a marching tune,” said George. “Wonder what’s up.”
A crowd had begun to gather in the square. Speaking in French, Nancy asked the man standing beside her the reason for the music. He said a small parade was on its way. Soon the square was filled with onlookers.
Again Nancy spoke to the man.
“Pardon,
monsieur, but do you happen to know a schoolmaster in town named Louis Aubert? I should like to find him.”
He nodded.
“Mais oui,
Monsieur Aubert is the bandleader in the parade.”
Nancy and her friends could have jumped in excitement. In a few moments the schoolmaster suspect would appear!
As the music came closer, the girls strained their eyes to see the beginning of the parade. Suddenly a small boy standing near Nancy found he was too short to see the parade. He jumped over the flowers and onto a section of bench that surrounded the base of St. Joan’s statue. Like a monkey he clambered up the pedestal.
“Oh, that’s dangerous!” Bess cried out. “He’ll fall!”
The boy was just pulling himself to the top of the pedestal when Nancy saw one of his hands slip. Instantly she jumped onto the bench. “Hold on!” she called to the boy.
The lad clawed wildly at the pedestal, but lost his grip. With a cry he dropped into Nancy’s outstretched arms. The shock knocked the two into the flower bed. Neither was hurt.
“Merci,
mademoiselle,” the boy murmured, as they got to their feet.
By this time the crowd had begun to cheer. Nancy was embarrassed, particularly when the boy’s mother rushed up and threw her arms around Nancy. In voluble French she expressed her thanks over and over again.
Nancy smiled, freed herself gently, and made her way back to Bess and George.
“Great rescue, Nancy,” said George. “But in all the excitement we missed seeing the beginning of the parade. The band has gone down another street.”
Dismayed, Nancy’s instinct was to run after the band and try to spot the leader. But that was impossible. Several policemen had appeared and re fused to let the bystanders move about until the entire parade had passed.
The shock knocked them into the flower bed
“It’s a shame!” George declared. “Maybe we can catch up with Louis Aubert somewhere else.”
Nancy sighed. “I hope so.”
The man to whom Nancy had talked earlier turned to her and said,
“Pardon,
mademoiselle, I see you have missed your friend. Would it help for you to speak to Madame Aubert?”
“Oh, yes!” Nancy replied.
“She is standing in that doorway across the square.”
Nancy caught a glimpse of the woman as the marchers went by. But by the time the square was clear and the girls could cross, Madame Aubert had vanished.
“We’ve had so many disappointments today,” Bess said wistfully, “something good is bound to happen soon.”
Nancy urged that they try to catch up with the band. The trio ran after the parade, but by the time they reached the line of marchers, the band was breaking up. Nancy asked one of the drummers where she could find Monsieur Aubert.
“He has left, mademoiselle,” was the answer.
“Can you tell me where he lives?”
The man readily gave the Auberts’ address, but he added, “I know they will not be home until this evening, if you wish to see them.”
Nancy thanked him, then turned to Bess and George. “Would you like to stay here overnight?”
“Oh, yes!” Bess’s eyes danced. “Orléans is such an intriguing place. Let’s have a long lunch hour, then do some more sightseeing.”
“The place I’d like to see next,” said Nancy, “is La Cathedral St. Croix, where there’s another wonderful statue of Jeanne d’Arc. Shall we go there after lunch?”
The others agreed, and the three girls walked to a delightful little restaurant, where they ate a fish stew called
macelote.
It was served with a frothy white butter sauce to which had been added a dash of vinegar and shallots. For dessert they had plum tarts, which, on the menu, were listed as
tartes aux prunes.
The stout friendly owner came to chat with the visitors. “Today people do not eat much,” he said. “Banquets in medieval times—ah, they were different. Once at the country wedding of a nobleman near here this is what was served.” He pointed to a list on the back of the menu.
9
oxen
8 sheep
18 calves
80 suckling pigs
100 kids
150 capons
200 chickens
120 other fowl
80 geese
60 partridges
70
woodcock
200 other game
3000 eggs
“Wow!” George exclaimed. Even food-loving Bess said the idea made her feel squeamish.
The restaurant owner was called away, and the girls left a few minutes later. They went back to the square to visit the cathedral. Though not considered so grand as Notre Dame, it was a beautiful edifice with spires and domes. What interested the girls most about it was the statue they had come to see.
The sculptor had pictured Joan of Arc more as a saint than soldier. She was not wearing a suit of armor as usual, but was dressed in a long simple white robe. Her hair was short—cut in a bob—and in her clasped hands was her sword.
“Isn’t the expression on Jeanne’s face marvelous?” Bess said.
Nancy nodded. “Serene and spiritual. The sculptor certainly caught the spirit of her life.”
As the girls finished speaking, a voice behind them said,
“Bonjour,
Nancy. I thought I might find you here.”
Nancy turned. “Henri!” she exclaimed.
“Bonjour!
Where did you come from?”
Henri Durant, grinning broadly, greeted Bess and George warmly. He said, “I phoned the Bardots and they said you three were coming here. I offered to do an errand in Orleans for my dad,” the French boy added, “so he lent me his car. Nancy, I hope you and your friends aren’t too busy to take a ride with me.”
Bess and George graciously declined, but urged Nancy to go ahead.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come along?” she asked. The cousins said No, they would go at once to the hotel where they had decided to stay. Nancy handed her car keys to George and said she would meet them at the hotel later.
The group left the cathedral and Henri led Nancy to his car. “Have you found that Arab yet?” he asked. When she shook her head, Henri added, “I was in the post office here this morning and saw a man who looked like the one in the taxi.”
“In disguise?” Nancy asked.
“No, in regular clothes. He was just leaving the stamp window.”
“That’s very interesting, Henri!” Nancy exclaimed, wondering if the man could be Louis Aubert, the schoolmaster. It certainly seemed plausible. “I’ll find out tonight,” she thought, then determined to enjoy the afternoon’s outing.
Henri drove to an attractive area of the river and rented a canoe at Collet’s boat dock. They paddled in and out of various small coves. Nancy was enchanted by the landscape, some pastoral, some wooded.
Her companion proved to be humorous and told of his life as a student at the famous Sorbonne in Paris. “Someday I hope to be a lawyer.” He grinned. “Then I shall give you some mysteries to solve.” Henri said Madame Tremaine had told him confidentially that Nancy was an amateur sleuth.
“I can’t wait for your first assignment,” she said, her eyes twinkling.
Time passed quickly and only the lowering sun reminded Nancy they should get back. As Henri pulled up to the dock, the owner said a telephone message had come for him. “You’re Monsieur Henri Durant?” When the young man nodded, Collet told him he was to call his father the instant the couple landed. The man walked off.
Henri laughed. “My dad certainly guessed where I would be! Please wait here, Nancy. I will be right back.”
Almost as soon as he had left, a rowboat slid out from under the dock and bumped the canoe. Startled, Nancy turned to look squarely into the face of a heavily bearded man. Instinct told her to flee and she started to scramble to the dock.
“Oh no you don’t!” the man said gruffly. “You are trying to solve a dream. Well, I will give you something to dream about!”
Nancy started to scream, but the stranger reached up and covered her mouth with one hand. With the other he slapped her face so hard she fell, dazed, into the water!

Other books

The Farming of Bones by Edwidge Danticat
Ancient Chinese Warfare by Ralph D. Sawyer
Force of Love by E. L. Todd
Promenade a Deux by ID Locke
Ex-Purgatory: A Novel by Clines, Peter
Riding Raw by Stephanie Ganon
INCEPTIO (Roma Nova) by Morton, Alison