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 twelvel 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.”
“Halt! Or I’ll run you through!” the knight cried out
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 duell”
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.
CHAPTER XVIII
Dungeon Laboratory
THE singing ceased abruptly. Had the footsteps of Nancy and the cousins alerted the woman? A moment later the girls heard someone scrambling among the bushes ahead, but the underbrush was too dense for them to see anyone.
“Do you really think that was Lucille Aubert?” Bess whispered.
George an
swered, “If she had nothing to hide, why would she run away?”
“What puzzles me is,” said Nancy, “if she is Mrs. Blair’s former governess, how did she get mixed up with a crook like Louis Aubert?”
The words were hardly out of her mouth when George caught her friend’s arm. “Look over there!”
Some distance ahead in a clearing on a hillside the girls glimpsed the corner of a tumble-down chateau. A woman had darted from the woods toward the ruin. She was a tall, slender, graying blonde of about fifty-five.
“Do you think that’s the governess?” Bess asked.
“She’s about the right age,” Nancy replied. “Come on!”
The three girls dashed forward up the hill, but when they reached the ruined chateau, there was no sign of the woman. Was she concealed nearby or had she gone on through another part of the woods?
Suddenly Nancy said, “Perhaps we shouldn’t have given ourselves away. The woman may have gone to warn somebody else that we’re here. We’d better hide!”
“Oh yes, let’s!” Bess begged. “I don’t want to be caught off guard by that awful Louis Aubert.”
The girls ducked behind a cluster of trees and waited for over ten minutes. There was not a sound except the chirping of birds. No one appeared. Finally Nancy said, “I guess it’ll be all right to investigate now. Shall we see if we can track down a few ghosts?”
“I’m game,” George answered, and Bess reluctantly agreed.
Nancy led the way in the direction the woman had taken. They did not see her, but Nancy was fascinated to discover a very steep flight of stone steps leading down into the basement of the chateau. Suddenly the girls became aware of a faint roaring sound coming from below.
Nancy was very excited. Intuition told her she had found the right 99 steps! “I must go down there!” she exclaimed.
George grabbed her friend’s arm. “Not alone!” she said with determination.
Bess did not want to participate in the venture. “I think you’re taking a terrible chance, Nancy. You know what you promised your father. And frankly I’m scared.”
George snorted. “Oh, Bess, don’t be such a spoilsport. This could be Nancy’s big chance to crack the mystery.”
“Tell you what, Bess,” said Nancy. “We really should leave somebody on guard here at the top of the steps. Bess, suppose you stay. If anybody comes, give our secret bird whistle.”
“All right, but don’t go so far underground you can’t hear me if I have to warn you.”
Nancy descended the steps, counting as she went. George was at her heels. Farther down, the daylight grew dim. To the girls’ amazement two lighted lanterns hung from the crumbling walls. Somebody was below!
When Nancy reached the bottom, she could hardly keep from shouting for joy! She had counted exactly 99 steps!
Ahead was a narrow corridor leading to a huge old-fashioned wooden door. In the upper part was a small square opening containing parallel iron bars.
“This must have been a dungeon!” the young sleuth thought. Cautiously she and George peered through the barred opening. Nancy gasped. A medieval lab! Maybe it once had been an alchemist’s prison!
The laboratory was fully equipped with an open furnace in which a fire roared, and there were numerous shelves of heavy glass beakers, pottery vessels, assay balances, crucibles, flasks, pestles, and mortars. At the rear were several long benches, one of which held bottles of assorted liquids.
What amazed the girls most, however, was a man in Arab garb standing sideways at one of the benches! Nancy and George glanced at each other. Was this Louis Aubert again in disguise? The light was too dim for them to be sure.
The girls watched the man intently. In his left hand he held a black chunk which the girls guessed might be charcoal. In his other hand he had a knife and was busy gouging a hole in the chunk.
Evidently deciding it was large enough, the Arab picked up a large nugget of gold from the bench and dropped it into the hole. Next, he opened a jar and with one forefinger took out gobs of a pasty black substance and filled the opening.
Immediately Nancy recalled the old alchemists’ experiments with metals and wondered if the nugget were real gold. Watching closely, she detected a look of satisfaction on what little she could see of the man’s face. Now he set the charcoal on the bench, walked to the rear end of the laboratory, and went out a door. Before it closed, Nancy and George caught a glimpse of a corridor beyond.
The girls were wondering what their next move should be, when they heard Bess give the secret birdcall. The sound came loud and clear and was instantly repeated. The double call meant:
Someone is coming. Hide!
“Hide where?” George asked in a whisper. Without hesitation, Nancy opened the laboratory door and motioned George to follow her. She tiptoed across the room to several large bins holding logs and charcoal. The girls ducked behind them.
They heard footsteps descending the stairway and a moment later Monsieur Leblanc strode in! Immediately he reached up above the barred door and pulled on a cord which rang a little bell. Within seconds the Arab walked in through the rear entrance. He bowed and said in a deep voice:
“Monsieur, you are welcome, but are you not a day early? Tomorrow is the magic number day. But it is well that you came.” Suddenly his manner changed. He added gruffly, “I cannot wait longer.”
Monsieur Leblanc’s face took on a frightened expression. “What do you mean?”
The robed chemist replied, “I have finished my last experiment! Now I can turn anything into gold!”
“Anything?” The financier grew pale.
“Yes. Surely you do not doubt my power. You have seen me change silver into gold before your very eyes.”
Monsieur Leblanc stepped forward and grabbed the Arab’s arm. “I beg you to wait before announcing your great discovery. I will be ruined. The gold standard of the world will tumble!”
“What does that matter?” the Arab’s eyes glittered. “Gold! Gold! All is to be gold!” he cried out, rubbing his hands gleefully. “The Red King shall reign! And when everything is gold, the metal will no longer be rare and precious! The value of money will collapse.” He laughed aloud.
Monsieur Leblanc seemed beside himself. “Give me a little time. I must sell everything and buy precious stones—they will never lose their intrinsic value.”
The chemist walked up and down for several moments. Then he turned and said, “Monsieur Leblanc, your faith in me will be profitable. Watch while I show you my latest experiment.”
He picked up a bottle filled with silvery liquid which Nancy guessed was mercury. He poured a quantity into a large crucible.
“Now I will heat this,” the Arab said, and walked over to the open furnace on which lay a grate. He set the crucible on it.
The chemist waited. When the liquid was the right temperature, he took the piece of charcoal from the bench and started it burning. Presently the man dropped the mass into the crucible.
Nancy and George never took their eyes from the experiment. Once George leaned too far out beyond the bin, and Nancy pulled her back.
Blue flame began to rise from the crucible. The Arab placed a pan on a bench near the furnace, then picked up the crucible with the tongs and dumped its contents into the container. The charcoal had disappeared, and out of the mercury rolled the lump of gold!
Monsieur Leblanc cried out, “Gold!”
George looked disgusted, and Nancy said to herself, “That faker! He has Monsieur Leblanc completely bamboozled. Why doesn’t he see through the trick?”
Both girls had a strong desire to jump up and expose the whole procedure. But Nancy was afraid the swindler would break away from them, and decided that it would be better for the police to arrest him.
Monsieur Leblanc seemed to be in a daze, but presently he pulled a large roll of franc notes from his pocket and handed them to the Arab. “Take these, but I beg of you, do not make your announcement yet. I will come at this same time tomorrow
with more money.”
“I will give you twenty-four hours,” the Arab said loftily. “This time the price of my silence will be five thousand dollars.”
The demand did not seem to faze the financier. As a matter of fact, he looked relieved. He said good-by and left the same way he had come in. The Arab went out the rear door.
The two girls arose from their cramped position, hurried outside, and up the 99 steps. Bess was waiting anxiously at the top.
“We must run,” Nancy exclaimed, “and notify my father immediately that Monsieur Leblanc is being swindled!”
CHAPTER XIX
Nancy’s Strategy
IT was bedtime when Nancy, Bess, and George burst in upon the Bardots. Twice en route Nancy had tried unsuccessfully to get her father on the telephone.
The couple could see from the girls’ excited faces that something unusual had happened. Nancy quickly poured out the whole story, feeling that the time was past when she had to keep her father’s case a secret.
Monsieur and Madame Bardot were shocked. “You think this Arab you saw in that laboratory is really Louis Aubert?” Madame Bardot asked.
Nancy nodded. “Something should be done as soon as possible. I don’t want to call the police until I talk to my father and ask his advice.”
She telephoned Mr. Drew, but found he was not in. The switchboard clerk at the hotel, however, did have a message for Nancy.
“Your father said to tell you if you should call that he tried to reach you at Monsieur Bardot’s but received no answer. Mr. Drew is an overnight guest of Monsieur Leblanc.”
“Thank you,” said Nancy.
After she put down the receiver, the young sleuth sat staring into space. She was perplexed by this turn of events. Nancy had so hoped to alert her father that Monsieur Leblanc was being hoodwinked by an alchemist’s trick! Had Mr. Drew also learned this? Or had he come upon another lead in the mystery of the frightened financier?
“I’d better try contacting Dad at once,” she told herself.
She called Leblanc’s number. A servant answered and said that both men had gone out and would not be back until very late.