When the meal was over, their hostess arose. “Shall we go out to our patio?” she suggested.
The Bardots led the girls to the rear of the chateau and through a garden filled with roses, mignonettes, and summer lilies.
As soon as the group was seated in comfortable lawn chairs, Madame Bardot leaned forward. “Now please tell us, Nancy, have you had any success with my sister Josette’s mystery?”
Nancy had decided it would be wise not to mention her father’s case and had instructed Bess and George not to. She and the cousins described the various warnings received by Nancy, the helicopter incident, and the Aubert twins.
“I think,” Nancy went on, “that Claude, the one in the United States, left the warnings at the request of his brother Louis.”
“And,” said Bess, “Louis calls himself Monsieur Neuf.”
George put in, “We thought we had found the 99 steps but we were wrong.”
“We may have a new clue to them,” Nancy added. “Do you know of an orange garden in this area?”
After some thought, Monsieur Bardot replied, “At Versailles a double flight of steps leads down from a terrace to L’Orangerie, the orange orchard.”
“You mean,” Nancy said eagerly, “that there are 99 steps in them?”
The Frenchman smiled. “Actually there are 103 in each flight, but they are called the
Cent-Marches.”
“The hundred steps!” Nancy exclaimed.
“That’s close enough to 99,” George declared.
“It’s worth investigating,” Nancy agreed.
Her host suggested the girls drive to Versailles that very afternoon. “I’m sorry that my wife and I cannot accompany you, but we have an engagement.”
Within an hour the trio set off. When they reached the palace of Versailles, Nancy parked the car and the girls walked up to the huge, sprawling edifice. They went to the beautiful gardens at the south side, exclaiming over the pool, palms, orange trees, and velvety grass.
Nancy spotted the imposing double staircase leading down from a broad terrace of the palace. Excitedly the girls mounted the steps, counting them.
Presently Bess gasped and called out, “Look!”
On the 99th tread was a black chalk mark-M9!
“M9—Monsieur Neuf!” George exclaimed. “Then what you overheard at Leblanc’s last night, Nancy, was true! Louis Aubert must have come here. But when and why?”
“Maybe,” Bess spoke up, “it has nothing to do with Louis Aubert after all.”
Nancy shook her head in disagreement. “I believe Aubert chalked this M9 here as the spot where Monsieur Leblanc was to leave something —probably money. Let’s do a little sightseeing in the palace and then come back in case Leblanc stops here on his way home.”
The girls went down the steps again and walked to the main entrance. Inside, they stared in wonder at the grandeur of the palace. Walls, ceilings, and floors were ornate, but what amazed the girls most was the lavish decor of Louis XIV’s bedroom.
“It’s absolutely magnificent but it sure doesn’t look like a man’s room,” George said.
“At least not a modern man.” Nancy grinned. “Don’t forget, back in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries this was the way people in power liked to live, men as well as women.”
When the girls came to the famous Hall of Mirrors, a guide told them it was here that the peace treaty between the United States, England, and France on one side and Germany on the other had been signed after the First World War.
“They couldn’t have picked a more beautiful spot,” Bess murmured.
When the girls left the palace, Nancy glanced at her wrist watch. Very soon Monsieur Leblanc might be stopping at L’Orangerie. The three friends went back to the steps and waited. Minutes dragged by.
Finally George said, “I can’t stand this inactivity another second. Nancy, I’m going to climb these steps again.”
The next instant George was running up the flight of steps. When she reached the 99th, George stared in amazement, then turned around and called down to the others:
“The M9 mark is gone!”
The words were barely out of her mouth when she noticed a door in the palace being opened. No one came out, and she wondered if the girls were being spied upon.
“I must find out!” George said determinedly as she sped across the terrace.
Just as she reached the door a man’s arm shot out. In his hand was a cane with a large curved handle. Suddenly the crook of the cane reached around George’s neck and she was yanked inside the building!
CHAPTER XII
The Red King Warning
As the door of the palace closed, Bess shrieked and Nancy gasped. George was a prisoner! Whose? And why?
“M9 has kidnapped her!” cried Bess. “What’ll we do?”
Nancy was already dashing up the steps. She crossed the terrace and tried the door. It was locked!
“Oh, I must get in!” Nancy thought desperately. She turned to Bess, who had followed her. “You stay here and watch. I’ll run to the main entrance and see what I can find out.”
She sped off and tried that door. It, too, was locked!
Desperate, Nancy banged on the door panels as hard as she could. In a few minutes a guard came out.
“The palace is closed for the day, mademoiselle,” he said, annoyed.
“But listen!” Nancy pleaded. “A friend of mine was forced inside by somebody near the top of the L’Orangerie steps.”
The guard looked at Nancy skeptically. She knew he was wondering if she had suddenly gone mad.
“This is serious,” she said. “I’m not fooling. Please! My friend is in danger!”
Suddenly the guard seemed to sense that perhaps Nancy was telling the truth. He admitted her, and together the two raced up a staircase and to the door in question. No one was in sight.
The guard gave Nancy a look of disgust. “I do not like people who play jokes,” he said brusquely. “Now you had better leave. And quickly!”
Nancy was at her wit’s end. How could she convince this man? Then her eyes lighted on a pale-blue button from George’s blouse. She picked it up from the floor.
“Here’s proof,” she said to the guard, and explained where the button had come from.
“Then where is she?” he asked, now worried himself.
“We’ll have to find out,” Nancy replied.
She led the way, practically running from room to room. There was no sign of either George or her abductor.
“Maybe the fellow sneaked down one of the stairways and went out,” the guard suggested.
As the two stood debating where to search next, they suddenly saw a man in uniform dash from one of the rooms and head for the main stairway.
The guard with Nancy muttered, “Very odd. I am supposed to be the only one left on duty.”
Nancy cried out, “That man may be a fake! Come on!”
They dashed after the uniformed figure, but by the time they reached the top of the staircase he was out of sight. A door below slammed.
Out of breath, the guard said worriedly, “The fellow has probably escaped. I hope he did not steal anything.”
Nancy had a different idea—that the fugitive had grabbed George with the crook end of the cane. “He must have left my friend behind. We’ll have to keep searching!”
Nancy and the guard pressed on. Presently they reached Louis XIV’s bedroom and stood still in amazement.
George Fayne lay on the ornate bed asleep!
At least Nancy hoped that George was
asleep.
Fearfully she went toward her friend. Just as she reached the bed, George opened her eyes. She looked around wildly, murmuring, “Where am I?”
“Oh, thank goodness you’re all right!” Nancy cried out.
The guard’s expression was one of utter disbelief. For a moment he could only stare at George as if she were an apparition.
“George, how do you feel?” Nancy asked solicitously.
“I—I guess I’m all right,” George answered shakily. “When something hooked around my neck I blacked out.” She started to sit up.
By now the guard was thoroughly alarmed. “No, no!” he insisted. “Do not move. I shall call a doctor. And I must also inform the police at once.” He hurried off.
George protested, but Nancy agreed with the guard and insisted that George lie still. It seemed an endless time before the man returned with a physician and two police officers. After examining her, the doctor said that George was all right but should rest. Then he left.
Suddenly George burst out laughing. “This is so ridiculous! I can’t believe it really happened!” Between gales of mirth, she said, “Imagine me sleeping in Louis XIV’s bed!” Finally Nancy, the guard, and the policemen were also laughing.
George’s eyes became so filled with tears of merriment that she had to wipe them away. As she pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her blouse, a folded sheet of paper fluttered to the floor. Nancy picked it up and handed the paper back to George. When she opened it, a strange expression came over her face.
“What’s the matter?” Nancy asked.
“Somebody put this note in my pocket! It’s another warning!”
The two officers instantly became alert. “What do you mean?” one asked.
“First I’ll read the note,” she said. “Then my friend Nancy can tell you the rest.” George read aloud the typed message:
“‘You girls mind your own business or grave consequences will come to you!
The Red King’”
“The Red King?” the second officer repeated.
“Mais—
but who is he—this Red King?”
“That’s a new name to us,” Nancy answered the question. “Other warning notes have been signed Monsieur Neuf and the Green Lion.”
She explained sketchily about Mrs. Blair’s mystery which had brought Nancy to France. The officers said that they had never heard any of the names.
“Earlier today we noticed that on the 99th step of the stairway from L’Orangerie someone put M9 in black chalk,” Nancy went on, and told the whole story of what had happened.
The officers and guard were impressed. All said that these pretty American girl detectives were brave indeed to undertake such risks.
Nancy inquired, “You are sure that none of you knows a man named Louis Aubert?”
The three shook their heads. One of the policemen asked, “Does he live around here?”
Nancy said she did not know his address. “We saw him in Paris twice—once he was dressed as an Arab. I suspect he’s involved in this mystery, and that he’s the man in a guard’s uniform we saw running away from here a while ago.”
“We will make an investigation,” the officers assured the girls. One of them reached for the note. “And examine this for fingerprints. You will come to headquarters if necessary?”
Nancy smiled. “Of course.” She told where they were staying.
“Très bien.
Very good!”
George insisted that she felt much better. “Let’s get back to Bess. She’s probably frantic.”
The two girls hurried to rejoin their friend. Bess was relieved and delighted to see her cousin safe, but horrified to hear what had happened.
When the girls reached home, the Bardots were very much worried by the girls’ adventure. “It is quite evident this Monsieur Neuf knows you three are on his trail. He is getting desperate,” said Monsieur Bardot. “From now on you girls must take every precaution.” They promised they would.
That night after dinner Nancy asked the Bardots where Josette Blair had lived as a child.
“Only a few miles from here,” Madame Bardot replied. “Would you like to see the place? I’ll take you there tomorrow morning after church.”
“Oh, wonderfull” Nancy exclaimed.
The journey took them through rolling, verdant country. There was acre upon acre of green pasture and farmland filled with a profusion of growing vegetables and flowers in bloom. It was late morning when they reached another attractive, old-time chateau surrounded by gardens.
In the front a man and a woman were busy snipping off full-grown roses. Madame Bardot turned into the drive and asked the couple if they were the present owners.
The woman replied pleasantly, “Yes, our name is Dupont. May we help you?”
The visitors alighted. After making introductions, Nancy explained that Mrs. Blair, a very good friend of hers, had lived there as a little girl. At mention of the strange dream, the Duponts were greatly interested.
“Ah,
oui,”
said Madame Dupont. “I do recall that Mrs. Blair lived here when she was little, but we cannot explain the dream.”
Nancy asked, “By any chance do you know her governess, who was Mademoiselle Manon?”
“We do not exactly know her,” Monsieur Dupont answered, “but a woman did stop here about five years ago. She told us she had once lived here as governess to a little girl but had lost track of her.”
“This is very exciting!” Bess spoke up. “Can you tell us where Mademoiselle Manon lives? Mrs. Blair would like to know.”
“I’m sorry, but we cannot help you,” said Madame Dupont. “At the time of her call she wanted to get in touch with Mrs. Blair but had no idea where she was. We could tell her only that Mrs. Blair had gone to the United States.”
Nancy wondered if the couple could give any kind of clue leading to Mademoiselle Manon’s present address.
“Did she happen to mention where she was going?” Nancy inquired. “Or where she might have come from?”
“No,” Monsieur Dupont replied. “But she did say she had married. Her name is Mrs. Louis Aubert.”
CHAPTER XIII
Schoolmaster Suspect
WHILE Nancy and the other girls were mulling over the startling bit of information about the governess, the Duponts’ maid came from the house.
“Pardon,
madame. I could not help but overhear your conversation about a man named Aubert,” she said. “Perhaps I can be of some help to the young ladies.”