The Orion Ghost

CHAPTER 22

  Jeanne took the large key from her mother’s hand and put on her riding cloak. She held the box under her cloak so it could not be seen and then, as soon as a servant returned to the room, she made her excuse.

  “Maman, may I ride Palome one last time before we leave? I won’t stay out long.”

  Her mother closed the lid of the piano gently “Very well, Jeanne, but be back in one hour we have much to do.”

  Jeanne kissed her mother and left.

  She rode as fast as she could through the forest toward the old moulin. She struggled to open the door with the large key but, eventually, it gave way. She raced up the stairs counting them as she went; something she had always done. “Eleven!” “Thirteen!” “Fifteen!”She had reached the top. There she put the casket on the floor and went down one flight to get the old wooden ladder that was standing against a wall. She had difficulty carrying it up the next flight of stairs but finally managed.

  She positioned the ladder so that it was secured against one of the high roof beams and then climbed to the top and pushed at the wooden panel. It wouldn’t budge. She pushed again. She knew it came off because that was the way into the part where the sail mechanism was housed and she had seen servants go up through the triangular shaped door space to repair the wooden panels. Just as she was about to give up she felt the wooden panel shift a little. She pushed again and this time it slid across and left a hole big enough for her to crawl inside.

  It was dark but sunlight filtered in through the conical roof where the tiles did not quite fit. The space was empty and there was no obvious hiding place. She could see a large metal bolt which came through into the space where she crouched, and under it, an inspection panel. It was a small shelf with a pull down hatch but it was big enough to hide the box. She crawled across the floor to the hiding place and placing the small silver key in the lock opened the box and took one last look at its contents. How she would have loved to see her mother wearing the jewellery that was hidden inside but she knew it had to remain here in order to save her papa. She closed the lid but just as she was about to lock the box, the tiny key slipped out of her had and disappeared under one of the thick wooden floorboards.

  Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes. She knew that she would not be able to retrieve it easily and that she was in a hurry. “Oh well,” she reasoned, trying to calm herself, “Perhaps it is better that the box is unlocked. It will make it easier for Papa and I would have had to find another hiding place for the key anyway.” Jeanne leaned forward and placed the box inside the inspection hatch. When she had finished it was impossible to see that anything had changed and she felt sure nobody would come into this part of the mill now that it was no longer being used.

  She climbed down the ladder and carried it down to the underground chamber where she placed it under some old crates. As she left the moulin she locked the door with the key, mounted Palome and rode as fast as she could back to the chateau.

  He mother was waiting anxiously for her return. When Jeanne entered she said, ” Did you have a good ride?”

  “Yes, maman,” Jeanne answered, “Very good. I will be in my room if you need me.”

  But Jeanne did not go straight to her little bedroom. On the way up she passed her father’s study and went in. Lying open on his desk was his favourite book. Jeanne had seen him reading it often and knew it was his favourite book of poetry. His greatcoat was thrown over his leather chair and Jeanne felt very sad to think she may never see her father again and that he might be in such danger. But the coat and the book gave her an idea.

  She knew he would come to his study if he returned safely and she felt sure if he had to leave the house secretly and at night he would wear his greatcoat. She would leave a coded message for her father telling him where she had hidden the box.

  She took the book to her small room and locked the door. She would not be disturbed. As she opened the book a sheet of paper fell out. On one side her father had begun to write a poem. The other side of the sheet was blank. Perfect! If her father decided to continue the poem he would see her message. In any case she felt sure that he would take the book with him especially if she put it into his greatcoat pocket.

  She read the poem which seemed to be about the horrible events in Paris but she did not really understand poetry. She turned the sheet over to the blank side and decided that she would draw a map. She worked quickly marking out the chateau, the lighthouse and the moulin as little drawings like she had seen on the proper maps her tutor in Paris had shown her. She knew she couldn’t say exactly where she had hidden the casket, or sign her map, so she would have to invent codes that her papa would quickly decipher.

  She drew a small casket in one corner and drew in the compass points that she had learned from old Gerard at the lighthouse. This, she felt, would make it seem like a genuine map. How could she point to the moulin? Papa might think the casket was at the lighthouse or the chateau! Then she remembered her mother’s tapestry and the stars that pointed to the moulin. She would copy that. She carefully drew in the star constellation making sure that the arrow part pointed to the moulin. She then added the number of the stairs in the top right hand corner of the map, near the sign for the moulin.These numbers would be meaningless unless you had counted the steps as she and her papa had when they first came to the ocean in happier times. He had chased her to the top of the stairs counting each flight and making a game of mathematics for the little girl. Would he remember? She prayed that he would.

  When she had finished she folded the paper into eight segments so that the map was on the outside, this she thought would catch his attention. She then placed it in his favourite book and put it in the inner pocket of his greatcoat. She then placed the key to the moulin in the opposite pocket and carried the coat to the carved wooden armoire in the corner of his room.

  When she had finished she went to talk to her mother. “Maman, you have not quite finished the tapestry, I know, but could we leave it in papa’s study. You know how he likes your work. It would be a sort of gift from us when he returns?”

  He mother looked at her realising that this was no ordinary request. “Of course, Jeanne You may leave it for papa if you think he would like it.”

  “Thank you maman,” said Jeanne as she hurriedly left the room passing a servant who was bringing a light supper for the children.

  “Hurry back for your supper,” Jeanne, “and bring the twins down with you.”

  Jeanne ran up to her father’s study and placed the tapestry on his desk. She felt sure that this would not be noticed by a servant but would alert her father if he returned. She did not really know how her system of signs would work, but she felt that she had to try to help her papa.

  The next morning Charles drove the twins, Jeanne and maman in their carriage as far as the outskirts of Bordeaux. There they were transferred to Aunt Jacqueline’s carriage and taken to the town centre and the house they would live in until they could return safely to Paris or the Chateau de la Grande Côte. None of their servants, not even Charles, knew where they were going. It was safer that way.