Chantecoq and the Haunted House by Arthur Bernède

Author:Arthur Bernède [Bernède, Arthur]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-10-23T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine – The nanny, the valet, and the cook

As soon as Jean-Marie had left the room, Chantecoq, whose face expressed great satisfaction, declared to his secretary, “While you were in Quiberon, little one, I believe I’ve already done some good work.”

“That would not surprise me, boss.”

“Not only have I established the motive for little Jackie’s kidnapping, but I believe I’ve further discovered the method by which his abductors operated.”

“That’s all simply marvellous.”

“I’m going to bring you up to date with a few words.”

“Boss, I’m listening. Should I take notes?”

“No need, everything is lodged in my mind.”

“But this is for me.”

“No, no little papers. If you have any gaps in your memory, I’ll be there to fill them in.”

“I hope that I won’t have cause to make this extra work for you.”

“I dare to hope so too.”

And Chantecoq summarised, with that concision which was unique to him.

“Jackie has been kidnapped in order to be substituted for a child who was on the point of death and set to benefit from a huge inheritance.

“The abductors, arriving by sea from Lorient or from a lesser port, in a power boat, of a very recent model and distinct enough for us to trace easily, landed near here, and hid themselves in the Trou du Souffleur.”

“In the Trou du Souffleur?”

“Exactly, thanks to an underground route which ended up in the ancient basements of the old fort on the site of which this house was constructed, they were able to enter with ease, play out their rehearsed drama and, the next day, carry out the young Lachesnaye’s abduction. It’s clear, not as seawater, but as crystal.”

Météor was silent. He had a principle of never discussing the opinions, any more than the orders, of his boss. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help puffing out his cheeks, which meant, for anyone who knew him, that he had something important to say.

Chantecoq, better than anyone, could hardly miss it. So he said with a mischievous smile, “Météor, forgive me, Armandine, do you want to ask me something?”

“Yes, boss.”

“So, why are you hesitating?”

“Because I’ve learned from experience that, on a case, you don’t much like being interrogated.”

“That’s true,” the king of detectives acknowledged, “because as soon as I’m in action, I detest being disturbed… pointlessly. But, given that I’m still only at the stage of preliminary investigations, I gladly authorise and even order you to ask me for any explanations that you deem necessary. But do hurry, because the ticket desk will be closing in fifteen minutes.”

“Boss, I’ve only one word to say to you.”

“Do you mean a sentence?”

“That’s right, a sentence.”

“Then get used to always using the correct word, the precise term.”

“You’re right, boss.”

“Speak.”

“Just now, Jean-Marie said one thing which struck me…”

“Which was?”

“He suggested there was no one on board the dinghy.”

“He’s mistaken, that’s all there is to it. There were at least four men.”

“How do you know that?”

“That’s the minimum number of people needed to stage the ghostly events and assist in Jackie’s kidnapping.”

“So where were they? Hidden, under the hood up front?”

“Not at all.

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