The Mystery of the 99 Steps

by Carolyn Keene

  “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!

  CHAPTER XIV

  Amazing Number 9

  THE cold water shocked Nancy back to semi-consciousness, so she automatically held her breath while plunging below the surface. Rising again, she tried to swim but had no strength to do so.

  “I-I must turn over and float,” Nancy thought hazily, and barely managed to flip over. A drowsiness was coming over her. “I mustn’t let myself go to sleep,” she thought desperately.

  By this time Henri was on his way back. Seeing Nancy floating motionless in the water, he sprinted to the end of the dock and made a long shallow dive toward her.

  “Nancy!” he cried.

  “I’m all-right. Just weak,” she replied.

  Henri cupped a hand under Nancy’s chin and gently drew her to the shore. Here he put an arm under her shoulders and helped the wobblykneed girl to the boat owner’s office. Monsieur Collet’s eyes blinked unbelievingly, but he asked no questions. Instead, he poured a cup of strong coffee from a pot simmering on a gas plate.

  Nancy drank the coffee and soon felt her strength returning. Finally, able to talk, she told her story. Monsieur Collet was shocked and called the police at once to report the bearded stranger.

  Henri frowned. The incident, he told Nancy, seemed to tie in with his telephone message. His father had not called him. “Evidently this villain planned the whole thing to harm you, Nancy. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Nancy begged him. “And now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go to the hotel and get dried out. Henri, will you bring my handbag from the canoe—if it’s still there.”

  Fortunately it was, and not long afterward Henri dropped the bedraggled girl at her hotel. “I will telephone you tomorrow to see how you are,” he said.

  “Thanks a million for everything,” Nancy said, “and I’ll let you know if I find that Arab!”

  When she reached the girls’ room, George and Bess began to tease her about Henri having dunked her in the river. But they soon sobered as Nancy unfolded her story.

  “How terrible!” said Bess.

  “It does seem,” George remarked, “as if you aren’t safe anywhere, Nancy, and what did he mean about the dream?”

  “I guess he found out somehow about Mrs. Blair’s dream,” Nancy replied. “Who can he be? Everything happened so fast I didn’t notice anyth
ing but his whiskers.”

  “I’ll bet they were false!” George declared.

  Nancy’s spirits revived after she showered and changed into fresh clothes. She insisted that they call on the Auberts directly after a light supper. The girls had a little trouble finding the couple’s house, but at last they pulled up in front of a small bungalow. As they alighted, the trio wondered if they were finally to face their enemy Monsieur Louis Aubert!

  Nancy’s ring was answered by a man who was definitely not the suspect. She politely asked if he were Monsieur Aubert.

  “Oui, mademoiselle. You wish to see me?”

  “Yes, if you can spare the time. And I would also like to talk with your wife.”

  “Please come in. I will call her.”

  He led the girls from a hallway to a neat, simply furnished living room. Then he returned to the hall and went upstairs.

  A few minutes later the girls heard descending footsteps of two people. They tensed. Were they going to meet Mrs. Blair’s governess? Would she solve the mystery of the disturbing dream?

  The schoolmaster and his wife entered the living room and he introduced her to the girls. Madame Aubert, slender and dark-eyed, wore a puzzled expression. “You wish to see me?”

  “Yes,” Nancy replied. “We were directed here by a former pupil of Monsieur Aubert’s. Please forgive our unannounced call.”

  The woman smiled. “As a matter of fact I am flattered that you have come to see me. Usually our callers ask for my husband.”

  Nancy explained how the Duponts’ maid had overheard the girls say they were looking for Monsieur and Madame Louis Aubert. “Estelle directed us here. Mrs. Aubert, by any chance, was your maiden name Manon?”

  To the disappointment of Nancy and the cousins the woman shook her head. “No. May I inquire why you wish to know?”

  Nancy explained about the Lucille Manon who had been Josette Blair’s governess. “We are eager to find her so she can give us some information about Mrs. Blair’s childhood.”

  The schoolmaster and his wife were sympathetic and promised if they came across any lead to the other Madame Aubert they would let Nancy know.

  George spoke up. “Monsieur Aubert, did you ever happen to run across another man with your name?”

  “Yes. I have never met him personally, but mail for him has come here by mistake.”

  Nancy at once recalled Henri’s statement about the man at the post office. “You mean his mail came to your home?”

  The teacher smiled. “I am well known at the post office. When any letters for Monsieur Louis Aubert arrive in Orléans without a street address, they are naturally delivered to me.”

  Nancy asked eagerly, “Was there a return address?”

  Aubert shook his head. “No. That is why I opened the envelopes. Of course, when I found out they were not intended for me, I returned the letters to the post office.”

  “How were they signed?”

  “There was no signature—just the initial C.”

  The girls exchanged glances. “C” might stand for Claude—Louis’s brother!

  Excitedly Nancy asked, “Could you tell me what the contents of some of the letters were?”

  Aubert replied, “Ordinarily I would not remember, but these letters were unusual. They were written almost entirely in symbols and numbers. The number 9 was especially prominent.”

  The three visitors were elated. Surely they had stumbled upon a valuable clue!

  Bess spoke up. “Have you received any of these letters recently, Monsieur Aubert?”

  “No. None have come in the past two weeks.”

  During the conversation that followed, it developed that as a hobby the schoolmaster had studied a great deal about alchemy. At once Nancy told him that only recently she had learned a little on the subject and mentioned the Green Lion symbol in particular.

  Her remark set Monsieur Aubert on a lengthy but very interesting discussion of the medieval science. He brought a portable blackboard from another room and with a piece of chalk drew a circle with a dot inside it.

  “That was the symbol for the sun,” he said.

  Next, he drew a half moon on the left and on the right of the blackboard drew what he said was the alchemist’s sign for it. The symbol looked like a quotation mark, only a little larger.

  “In olden times alchemists and astrologers worked hand in hand. The positions of planets on certain days were very important. Metals and chemicals were named after heavenly bodies. For instance, mercury—which we use in the laboratory today—was named after the planet Mercury.”

  He sketched the symbol and Bess began to giggle. “That’s a sassy-looking sign. It reminds me of a scarecrow with only a smashed-in hat on!”

  Everyone laughed, then the teacher continued, “I translated one of Aubert’s letters to mean, ‘Turn all gold to silver quickly with mercury.’ Very odd to correspond in this manner. The writer must also be interested in alchemy.”

  Nancy herself had exactly the same idea. Not only was Monsieur Neuf the mysterious chemist, but his brother might be one also! But how did this connect either brother—or both of them—with Monsieur Leblanc’s secret? Was the financier buying up the rights to some important formula concocted by the Aubert twins?

  As Nancy was speculating on this, the schoolmaster took up his chalk again. “The story regarding numbers is really quite fascinating,” he said. “Take the 9, which appears so frequently in that other Louis Aubert’s letters. The number was considered a sign of immortality.”

  On the board he wrote 9 = 9, and then the number 18. As if he were addressing students, the teacher went on, “The sum of digits in successive multiples of 9 are constant. For instance, if we take 18, which is twice 9, and add 1 plus 8, we get 9.” He grinned. “Who can figure out the next multiple of 9?”

  Jokingly George raised her hand. “I feel as though I were back in school,” she said with a laugh. “The third multiple of 9 is 27. The 2 plus the 7 equals 9.”

  “Très bien,” the schoolmaster said. “And, Mademoiselle Marvin, how about you answering next?”

  “I never was very good at arithmetic,” Bess admitted, giggling. “But I do remember that 4 X 9 is 36. Add the 3 and the 6 and you get 9!”

  “Exactly,” said Monsieur Aubert. “This is true all the way to 90. After that, the sums become multiples of 9.”

  The girls were fascinated and would have loved to hear more, but Nancy said they had taken up enough of the Auberts’ time.

  “We’ve had a wonderful evening,” she added, rising.

  Twenty minutes later the girls were back in their hotel. While getting ready for bed, Bess remarked, “I still think Louis Aubert, alias Mr. Nine, has cast some kind of a spell over Monsieur Leblanc. All this alchemy business sounds like black magic.”

  George scoffed at the idea. “I think Monsieur Neuf is just a plain crook who’s robbing Monsieur Leblanc unmercifully. All we have to do is prove it.”

  “A big order.” Nancy knit her brow. “I feel what we must do now is find Lucille Manon Aubert. I have a hunch she is the key that will unlock at least one mystery.”

  The following morning the girls set out early for the Bardot chateau and two hours later pulled into the driveway. Madame Bardot herself opened the door. At once the girls detected a worried expression on her face and sensed that she had bad news for them.

  “What is wrong, Madame Bardot?” Nancy asked quickly.

  The Frenchwoman’s voice quivered. “My darling poodle Fifi has disappeared!”

  “Oh dear!” Bess exclaimed. “You mean she ran away?”

  Madame Bardot shook her head. “Fifi was locked in our house and could not possibly have left it of her own accord. But somehow she has just vanished!”

  CHAPTER XV

  Missing Gold

  “POOR Fifi!” cried Bess. “She must have been stolen!”

  “But that seems impossible,” said Madame Bardot. “Every window and door on the first floor was locked. If some t
hief did get in, he must have had a key. But where did he obtain it?”

  “Do you mind if we make a thorough search of the house?” Nancy requested.

  “Oh, please do. We must find Fifi!” Madame Bardot’s eyes filled with tears.

  The group divided up to hunt, but with no success. As time went on, Nancy became more and more convinced that some intruder had been able to enter the house. On a hunch that the dog might have been hidden, she began a systematic search of all closets but did not find Fifi. Finally the only place left was the attic tower of the house. There was a door at the foot of a stairway leading up to it. Nancy opened the door and ascended. At the top she looked about at the small square room lighted by a tiny window on each side.

  “Oh!” she cried.

  In the center of the floor on a faded rug lay Fifi!

  Since the dog did not move at Nancy’s approach, she was fearful the pet might not be alive. In a moment she realized Fifi was breathing, but unconscious. There was a strong medicinal smell about the animal, and she guessed the dog had been drugged to keep it from barking the alarm.

  Nancy was angry. Who would do such a mean thing? But there was no time to think about this at the moment.

  Taking the steps two at a time, Nancy hurried to the second floor and called out loudly, “Come quickly! I’ve found Fifi in the tower!”

  Madame Bardot rushed from a bedroom. “Is she all right?” the woman asked worriedly.

  “I think so,” said Nancy, “but a veterinarian should see her as soon as possible. She’s unconscious.”

  By this time Monsieur Bardot had appeared in the hallway. He offered to phone the doctor and the police while the others hurried to the attic. Bess and George were indignant also at the mistreatment of the poodle.

  In a short while the veterinarian arrived. He examined Fifi and declared that the intruder had injected a drug that produced sleep for a long time. “She will be all right, however,” he assured Madame Bardot. “And I do not think she needs medication. Just let her sleep off the effects.”