Jules Quatrenoix’s extraordinary adventures - Book 1

CHAPTER 3 The child of the pool

CHAPTER 3 The child of the poolThe two ladies were already at the table and engaged in conversation, sitting in front of white china plates with dark blue patterns, piled high with hot food.

‘Do come to the table, sweetheart!’

Jules sat down on a bench opposite them. Ernestine served him some food and resumed chatting with the cook, Madame Guillandou, who was telling her about the running of the household.

She was a plump middle-aged woman with a jovial expression on her face – like all cooks in fact, Jules thought, amused – and who was from these parts, from the bits of conversation that he overheard when he was not pondering on his discovery. She said that she was born here and she had never left the town, except for the christenings, weddings or funerals of close or distant relatives. Her husband was a driver and it was he who had brought them here. They were good people, thought Jules who found them quite nice.

As they were talking about the house again, Ernestine asked her if there was special maintenance for the park. Hearing them, he remembered the metal plate at the pool and decided to join the conversation.

‘What about the pool at the bottom of the park, is it good for swimming?’

He was angry with himself for asking such a naive question.

‘No, dear, it’s not! It is full of mud and hasn’t been cleaned up in ages.’

‘You mean since 1802?’

Madame Guillandou was taken aback at his question.

‘That’s right. But how do you know?’

‘There’s a metal plate on one edge of the pool. It’s covered in moss.’

‘You are a very observant young man! That’s right, the park has not been tended to since that year. The de Chaussecourtes moved in only seven years ago and never really took the time to maintain it. The estate was left uninhabited for over a hundred years!’

She was proud to tell stories about her hometown. Jules tried his luck.

‘And who was Barnabé?’

‘Jules! Don’t forget your manners!’ scolded his mother.

‘It’s all right!’ answered the cook, a conspiratorial smile on her face. ‘The de Crochemarre family history is very sad indeed.’

She shook her head melancholically.

‘Barnabé was the only child in that charming family,’ she went on. ‘One morning his mother found him floating in the pool. He had drowned. No one ever knew what had happened. Madame de Crochemarre went insane after that terrible event. She had already lost her husband the year before … a heart attack. Some people say he had gone mad since his return from Egypt. He was a renowned naturalist, you know. A learned man loved by all the local people. He took part in that famous expedition, under Napoleon, that discovered the stone …, ah! The name escapes me! I’m not very good at history … the Rose stone or something like that.’

‘The Rosetta stone’, Jules suggested with a smile.

‘Yes, that’s it, thank you, dear! But I’m sure I’m bothering you with my stories’, she apologized. ‘On the other hand I could go on and on about Howlingdeadman.’

‘Not at all! You’re not bothering us!’ Jules was hanging onto her every word. ‘Please go on! I love these stories’, he spurred her on.

‘Well, if you like them! Here’s what happened. The metal plate was laid by Barnabé’s mother before she was locked up in an asylum, where she stayed until she died. She never got over it. As the story goes, she said that it was all the fault of a flower called datura. She had written the word on all the walls of her room. What a tragic end for that poor woman! Everyone was shocked at the terrible tragedy. The fact is we still talk about it! They were awfully nice people, though a bit eccentric. The family had been in the area for many generations. I’ve been told little Barnabé was a shy and lonely child. His classmates didn’t really like him’, she bent forward as if she did not want anybody to overhear what she was about to say, ‘which prompted some people to say that he had taken his own life! Can you believe it!’

Ernestine and Jules were speechless.

‘Mind you, he had just lost his father, poor thing! And since that terrible year – she stressed the word terrible, delighted to be the center of attention – the de Crochemarre estate had been left abandoned.’ She turned to Jules.‘Actually, there is no treasure hidden in the secret room you mentioned. It used to be Monsieur de Crochemarre’s study. He had it condemned shortly after he came back from Egypt, and he alone knew how to get in. Since then it’s been said that whoever found the way to get inside would suffer from the same illness and sink into madness.’

Jules turned very pale. When she saw his reaction, Madame Guillandou felt that she had gone a bit too far and added:

‘They’re just stories, dear! Old wives’ tales!’

She stood up to fetch their dessert. Jules was a little upset by what he had heard but his curiosity was aroused more than ever. What the cook had just told him matched his discoveries – the pool, the study, even the strange whispers. He meant to get to the bottom of it and find out the real story.

In the afternoon he wanted to go back to Barnabé’s father’s study, but his mother required his help until dinner time to carry trunks up to the attic. At the end of the day he was exhausted and went to bed early.

He had a strange dream that night. He was standing in front of the bookcase, it slid aside all by itself. He went into the room. The dust was gone, everything was as it used to be, when the de Crochemarre family lived there. He saw a boy aged about ten, like him, make for a floorboard, lift it and take out a beautiful rectangular wooden box with silver decorations inlaid in the ebony. Barnabé! It was absolutely obvious. It must have been a present that his father had brought him back from Egypt. Barnabé opened the box, put a sheet of paper folded in four inside, closed it and put it back in its hiding place. He stood up, looked at Jules, put his right index finger to his lips and said ‘Hushhh!’.

Jules woke up with a start, bathed in sweat. When he realized that it was only a dream, he was relieved. But he heard something, barely audible at first, then louder and louder. The whispers! There they were again! But this time he clearly heard his name … they were calling him! Panic-stricken, he hid under the sheets and blocked his ears with his fingers. He remained motionless for a few minutes, then listened again, the whispers had stopped!

‘Come on! Don’t be a coward! It’s you who wanted to know what had happened, you who dream of adventure. Go for it, Rouletabille!’

Somewhat cheered up, he got out of bed and looked at the time on his alarm-clock, three in the morning. He hated waking up at that time, to him it was the time when nightmares could come to life. In fact he felt as if that was nearly coming true!

He struck a match and lit the wick of the oil lamp on his bedside table. He got up and opened his bedroom door. There wasn’t a sound. Only the ticking of the huge clock in the sitting room echoing throughout the house.

Barefoot, in his nightdress and his hair messy from sleep, he walked to the stairs, trying not to make the floorboards creak. He went down the steps one at a time. The light of the lamp danced on the walls. He got to the landing on the first floor. It was pitch black. He could not make out the bookcase at the end of the corridor, as if that part of the house had been swallowed in the darkness.

He felt panic coming over him. He breathed in deeply and moved forwards. The corridor seemed to be endless. Then he saw the bookcase. He pulled the cord and the bookcase slid aside with a slight creaking sound this time. He did not want to wake his mother. He opened the door nervously and went into the study. It was as dusty as this morning!

Now he had to find the box. Jules put the lamp on the desk and made for the section of the floor where he had seen Barnabé lift a board in his dream. A thick layer of dust covered the floor. He swept it aside with his hands and started looking. He did not know if he was to believe what he had seen in his dream when he noticed a notch in one of the boards. It rather looked as if the corner of the board had been chipped. Still, he slipped his finger into the hole and tried to lift the piece of wood. The board yielded easily. Jules set it aside. Because of the darkness he could not see if there was anything hidden there. He took the lamp and brought it closer to the hole. He thought that he could make out a box. He groped around and his hands brushed against something. He grasped it and took it out. He blew the dust away. The box was exactly like the one in his dreams!

He felt like an archaeologist making his first discovery! He was thrilled but decided against opening it here. He would be more comfortable in his room. He got up, shook his nightshirt and went back upstairs after he had put the bookcase back in its place.

He sat down at his desk, with the box in front of him. It was a historic moment indeed! Jules Quatrenoix had just discovered a treasure! He cleaned his trove with a wet cloth. It was beautiful, the ebony it was made of had the same inlays he had seen in his dream. He gazed at it for a few minutes and then made up his mind to open it.

Hardly had he done so when a scorpion escaped from the box. He had never seen such a big one! It looked a bit groggy. Taking advantage of its dizziness, and even though he was terrified, Jules took a glass from the wash stand and captured the scorpion under it. The scorpion didn’t struggle. Jules even felt it was staring at him.

What was he supposed to do with it? He didn’t know what species it was, but judging from its size, he realized that it would not be a good idea to get stung. He put a thick book on the glass to make sure the creature could not escape, especially when he was asleep. Now he was at leisure to examine the contents of the box while at the same time keeping a watchful eye on his new roommate!