Chapter 17 The Mystery of the 99 Steps by Carolyn Keene
Knight in Armor
In moments Nancy and the cousins were heading after Monsieur Leblanc. But he was driving at such terrific speed Nancy felt wary of trying to overtake him.
George did not seem worried. “Step on it!” she urged.
But Bess had other ideas. “If we have a blowout, good-by to us,” she warned.
Fortunately the road ahead was straight and Nancy thought she could keep the financier’s white car in sight for a while. George remarked that Monsieur Leblanc might suspect he was being followed.
“Yes,” said Nancy. “And if he does, he certainly won’t go where he plans to unless it’s on legitimate business.”
The sports car sped on for several miles. Then, a short distance ahead, Nancy noticed a sharp curve. Monsieur Leblanc did not slacken speed and roared around it.
“I mustn’t risk that,” Nancy told herself, and slowed down enough to take the curve safely.
As they reached the far side of the turn, George said in dismay, “He’s gone!”
“But where?” said George. “To meet Louis Aubert perhaps?”
Nancy stepped on the gas and drove for another few miles. Their quarry had vanished. “I guess it’s no use,” she remarked. “We’ve lost him!”
She concluded that Monsieur Leblanc must have left the main road not long after passing the curve. “Let’s go back and watch for any side roads.” She drove slowly and presently the girls spotted a narrow dirt lane through the woods. There were tire tracks on it.
“Better not go in there,” Bess advised. “What would you do if you met somebody driving out?”
Nancy smiled grimly. “How right you are!”
She parked the car along the roadside, and the girls proceeded on foot down the rutted, stony path. The tire tracks went on and on.
Presently Bess complained that her feet were hurting. “This must be a lumberman’s trail that nobody ever bothered to smooth out,” she said. “Where do you suppose it leads?”
“I hope to a ruin,” Nancy answered. “The one Claude Aubert talked about in his sleep. It could be the Chateau Loire.”
A little farther on the girls stopped and stared. Before them was a tumbled-down mass of stone and mortar. It had evidently once been a small, handsome chateau. Little of the building was intact, but as Nancy and her friends approached, they saw one section which had not yet suffered the ravages of time and weather. The tire tracks ended abruptly, yet there was no car in sight.
“I guess Monsieur Leblanc didn’t come here,” Bess surmised. She looked around nervously, recalling the guard’s mention of tramps.
Nancy did not reply. Her eyes were fixed ahead on a series of stone steps leading below ground level. She assumed they had once led to a cellar or perhaps even a dungeon!
“Let’s do some counting,” she urged, and took out her pocket-size flashlight. Bess and George followed her to the steps. Would there be 99?
Nancy descended, counting, with the cousins close behind. When they reached thirty-five, Nancy stopped with a gasp. About ten steps below, at the foot of the stairs, stood a knight in full medieval armor! He was brandishing a sword!
George exclaimed sharply and Bess cried out in fright. But Nancy boldly took another step down. As she did, the armored figure called in French in a high ghostly voice, “Halt! Or I will run you through!”
Bess turned and fled up the steps. Nancy and George stood their ground, waiting to see if the figure would come toward them. He did not, but again warned them not to advance. This time his voice seemed a bit unsteady.
At once Nancy became suspicious. To the surprise of the other girls, she spoke up calmly, “Come now, Sir Knight! Stop playing games!”
The figure dropped the arm which held the sword. He fidgeted first on one foot, then the other.
“Take off the helmet!” Nancy ordered, but her voice was kind.
The knight lifted the visor to reveal a boy of about twelve! Bess and George marveled at Nancy’s intuition.
Smiling, Nancy asked the boy, “What is your name?”
“Pierre, mam’selle. I was only pretending. Do not punish me. I did not mean seriously to threaten you.”
“We’re not going to punish you,” Nancy assured him. “Where in the world did you get that suit of armor?”
The boy said it belonged to his father, who let him play with it. “I knew about this old ruined chateau and I thought it would be fun to come here and make believe I was a real knight.”
Bess, looking somewhat sheepish, came back down the steps. “You had me fooled, young man!”
Nancy added with a chuckle, “I guess you didn’t expect visitors to see your performance.”
Pierre grinned and admitted he certainly had not. Now the girls asked him about the ruin and he told a little of its history. The place dated back to the fifteenth century and was not the Chateau Loire.
“Are there any other ruins near here?” Nancy queried.
The boy said there was one across the road, deep in the woods. “I guess it’s Loire. But do not go there,” he advised. “Funny things happen.”
“Like what?” George questioned.
“Oh, explosions and smoke coming out of the ruin and sometimes you can hear singing.”
“Singing?” Bess repeated.
Pierre nodded. “It is a lady’s voice. Everybody believes she is a ghost.”
“Who’s everybody?” Nancy asked.
“Oh, people who wander around there to explore. Some of my friends and I have gone as close as we dare to the ruin, but something strange always happens. We have not been near it in a long while because our parents forbid it.”
Nancy was intrigued by this latest information. She asked for directions to the mysterious ruin.
“You go about a mile up the road toward Chambord. If you look real hard, you will see a narrow lane which leads to the place.”
“Thank you, Pierre. Have fun.” Nancy winked at the boy. “Don’t let Sir Lancelot come and overpower you in a duel!”
The girls left Pierre laughing, and set off once more in the car. Nancy drove slowly and finally they spotted the entrance to the lane, well camouflaged by low-hanging branches.
Nancy pulled over and parked. Then the searchers trudged through the woods. Again the way was rugged and bumpy. Projecting underbrush kept catching the girls’ clothes.
“If Monsieur Leblanc came this way,” said George, “he sure scratched up his car.”
“I doubt that he stopped here,” Nancy replied. “No tracks.” Suddenly she asked, “What’s the date?”
George told her it was the 17th. “Why?”
“I’ll bet,” replied Nancy, “that tomorrow will be an important day here. It will be the 18th. One plus 8 makes 9, the magic number!”
Bess’s eyes opened wide with fear. “Please! Let’s get out of here fast! We can come back tomorrow and bring the police.”
But Nancy and George wanted to proceed. Nancy said, “We’ll need proof, Bess, if we expect police help. We don’t know yet that this is Monsieur Neuf’s hideout. Are you willing to go?”
Bess gulped hard and nodded. The three girls walked on.
A few minutes later Nancy stopped short. “Listen!”
The cousins obeyed. Somewhere ahead a woman was singing softly! Nancy whispered, “That’s one of the madrigals Marie and Monique sang.” An electrifying idea struck her. “Girls! The singer could be Lucille Manon Aubert, the governess we’re trying to find! Her husband Louis might be here too!”
Excitedly Nancy started to run toward the singing sounds which seemed to be coming from the woods to her right. George and Bess hurriedly followed her.
“We’re getting closer!” Nancy said, breathless with suspense.