The Dark Lady Read online

  “Healthy mind, healthy body,” I murmured.

  “Exactly,” he answered. “From what Lupin tells me, I’m convinced you have an excellent mind, Miss Irene. And I’ve rarely seen a prettier face than yours.”

  I blushed again, even redder than before. I had never met anyone who talked so openly. It amused me and made me feel quite nervous at the same time.

  “But the question is,” he said, “how much is your body capable of?”

  I stiffened as something pressed between my shoulder blades, which was immediately followed by a stinging sensation. I spun around with a jerk and moaned with pain.

  Lupin’s father held up a single finger, showing it to me as I massaged the base of my neck. “With proper study of one of the Oriental martial arts, you don’t need anything but a single finger to make a whole gang of bullies turn and flee.”

  I didn’t know what to say. If the Lupin family wanted to make an impression on me, they’d more than succeeded!

  He got back to his feet. “I believe my son and young Master Holmes are expecting you.”

  “One day I’d like to learn how to do what you just did,” I said.

  “I’m always here, Miss Irene. Here or meditating in the plane tree!” he said with a grin.

  I returned his smile and walked over to my friends, trying to ignore the small but insistent pain that still ached between my shoulders.

  Chapter 17

  ALL FOR ONE

  The fight with the thugs the night before had taken its toll. Sherlock had a black eye and a cut on his upper lip. Lupin had a cut on one arm and a nasty bruise on his side that made him move quite stiffly. They were both shirtless and covered in sweat. Lupin had a sculpted frame, while Sherlock was awfully thin. The veins on his biceps and hands stood out against his pale skin.

  Sherlock started taking the bandages off his fists, but I stopped him. “What are you doing?” I asked. “You’re not stopping for my sake, are you?” He stared at me, breathing hard, his temples throbbing. I turned to Lupin. “Have you got some of those bandages for me, too?”

  Lupin laughed and stared at me, wide-eyed, until he realized I was serious. “I’ve never punched anyone in my life,” I said. “Maybe it’s time I learn how, don’t you think?”

  Before answering, Sherlock stuck his jaw out and spat a rough mouthguard out into his hand. “You’ll always be safe with us,” he said. “It’s just that yesterday, we were taken by surprise.”

  I smiled at him. “I’m fine, thanks for asking,” I said.

  “I can see that,” Sherlock answered.

  “While you, on the other hand . . .” I began.

  “I’m absolutely fine as well,” Sherlock said.

  “Your gloves, Irene,” said Lupin, passing me some bandages. “Give me your hands. I’ll show you how to wrap them.”

  Lupin carefully wound the bandages around my hands over a layer of cotton wool. When he’d finished, I beat my fists together. I noticed that Théophraste was watching us from the veranda. So, just like a perfect show-off, I sauntered up to the punching bag without asking for anyone’s help and threw the first punch of my life. I put all of my strength into it. Sure enough, the punching bag didn’t move an inch but the pain in my hand was sheer agony!

  * * *

  Later that day, we were sitting in a circle, all of us exhausted from jumping rope, punching drills, and all the other exercises that Lupin had made us do. All we had the energy to do was talk, and that suited me just fine.

  “There’s only one thing we know for sure,” said Lupin. “Well, two things actually.” As usual, Sherlock didn’t seem convinced. “The first is that we now know there are people from here, from Saint-Malo, involved in the recent crimes — not just people from out of town like we originally thought.”

  “And the second?” I asked.

  “They want us to know they were involved,” Lupin said.

  “You mean those bullies yesterday? Who were they?” I asked.

  Lupin and Sherlock shook their heads. “Apart from Spirou, we have no idea,” Sherlock said.

  “But they know who we are,” I said. “And they also seem to be well organized. It sounded like they’d been following us for days.”

  “I’m not too sure about that,” said Sherlock. “Maybe they’d just heard from someone that we’d been asking questions at the Hotel des Artistes, or something.”

  I then remembered the sound of someone running the day before in the hotel lobby. I told them since it seemed to support Sherlock’s theory.

  “Spirou is the only one I recognized,” said Lupin. “He’s the dishwasher there. Maybe it was him running off to tell the others, and that fool of a gang leader decided to ambush us —”

  “Maybe,” Sherlock interrupted him. “Or maybe the gang leader only works for someone else, and that someone else told him to give us a scare.”

  “Someone else?” I repeated. At this point, I was sure that Sherlock knew more than he was saying. “Someone else who?”

  Sherlock shrugged. “Maybe someone who’s more important and more dangerous than the bully,” he said. “Someone who actually might be involved in Lambert’s death or the theft of the necklace.”

  “I’m not sure you’re right,” said Lupin. “But if there is someone behind it all, we’ve just sent him a pretty clear message!”

  I agreed. The gang probably thought they were dealing with some silly children who they could easily scare off. Instead, they found two seasoned fighters and a willful young woman. But it was also true that if Mr. Nelson hadn’t come by when he had, we probably wouldn’t have been sitting there talking among ourselves with little more than a few bruises.

  I massaged my aching fingers. I didn’t like boxing, but I was glad I’d tried it. I felt lighter and faster than before. “Do we have a plan?” I asked. Everything we’d figured out seemed to make sense, but it hadn’t helped our investigations one bit.

  “Spirou,” Sherlock simply said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s the only member of the gang we know,” said Lupin. “And he’s possibly also one of its weakest links. I don’t know how involved Spirou and the others are in all this, but they do seem to know more than we do.”

  Sherlock drew a series of lines in the dirt with a dead twig. “We also know where he lives. His father is a fisherman and they have a little house at the harbor. We’ll follow him and see what he does when he’s not working at the hotel.”

  “If he leads us to a den of thieves and they’re talking about Lambert or, perhaps, stolen necklaces,” Lupin said, “then we’ve solved the case!”

  I shook my head. “That sounds dangerous. What if they see us?”

  “No one will see us,” said Lupin. “We’ll wear disguises. And anyway, Sherlock is very good at following people without them noticing.”

  “And Lupin’s just as good as I am,” added Sherlock.

  I looked at them, thinking about my bedroom window and which of the two had secretly followed me. Maybe they both had, but without telling each other. The idea made me smile for some reason.

  “There’s no saying that this Spirou will immediately take us where we want to go, though,” I said. “It could take a while.”

  “We could take turns,” suggested Lupin, getting immediate approval from Sherlock.

  “All right. So which one of us will go first?” I asked. My friends stared at me with stunned expressions. I turned my palms up and looked into their eyes. “Um, what did I say that’s so odd?”

  “No way, Irene, you can’t —” began Lupin, but I silenced him with an angry gesture. He stared at the ground.

  I couldn’t believe it! This was the sort of condescension I would have expected from my mother — not from my new friends. Enormous anger welled up inside me. I took a deep breath and tried to blow it all out of me.
“Listen closely, you two.” Sherlock timidly tried to interrupt me, but I signaled to him to be quiet. “I have no intention of repeating this. We started this adventure together. The three of us: Sherlock, Lupin, and I. We even made a pact the evening we found the body. We decided that all three of us would try to find out what had happened. We knew it would be dangerous, and maybe that was the reason we did it.”

  “Don’t be so silly,” Sherlock said with a cutting tone. “The way you’re talking, you make it sound like we’re the Knights of the Round Table!”

  “Maybe we are,” I said. “If not, then what are we? Just children?”

  “Irene, I —” began Lupin.

  “You what, Lupin?” I interrupted. “If my butler hadn’t helped you last night, what would you have done with three thugs on top of you? And you, Sherlock, have you finished cooking lunch and dinner for your family yet so your mother can go off and play cards with her friends? Do you really think you two are so much better than I am?”

  I was furious, but I regretted what I’d said the moment after the words had left my lips. I took a deep breath. “The three of us made a pact, didn’t we? Have you forgotten already? So let’s stick to it.” I got up, holding my bandaged hands out in front of me. “Either all three of us finish this thing together, or none of us do.” I avoided looking at them. I kept my eyes straight ahead, staring at the sea. I held my arms stiff to stop myself from shaking.

  Lupin got up first. He put his hand on mine and said, “You’re right. I’m with you. All for one and one for all and all that nonsense.”

  With a sigh, Sherlock got up as well. He put his hand on top of Lupin’s. It was so big that I could feel his fingers wrapping right around mine as well. “You’re both crazy,” he said.

  “Say it, Sherlock,” I hissed, refusing to look at him. “All for one and one for all.”

  He stood there shaking his head for a long time. “All for one and one for all,” he said finally.

  But Sherlock was probably right. We probably were crazy.

  Chapter 18

  A WALK IN THE DARK

  I awoke in the middle of the night to a sound. At first I thought it was one of those unexplainable little noises you hear at night in old houses. Then I realized that someone was throwing pebbles at my window. I ran over to open it.

  “What is it?” I asked in a whisper. I felt like I was talking to the night.

  “Irene?” someone answered from the moonlit garden. “It’s me!”

  “Lupin?” I said. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s Spirou! He’s on the move!” he said.

  “Spirou,” I mumbled. I wasn’t properly awake yet and was finding it hard to understand anything. All my thoughts seemed to be moving lazily around in my head. “I’ll be right down,” I said finally.

  I went to the bathroom and groped around in the dark for the dress I’d worn earlier that afternoon. I heard the ivy rustling against the wall of the house. When I turned, Lupin was there, silhouetted against the bright night sky.

  “Lupin!” I almost screamed, hiding behind the door. “What are you doing?!”

  He threw me a bundle of clothes that landed on the floor at my feet. “It would be better if you put these on,” he said, before disappearing back the same way he’d come.

  I burst out laughing. Like father, like son, I thought.

  The clothes were for a boy: a pair of corduroy trousers, a shirt, a beret, and a pair of shoes. Although they were well worn, they smelled quite clean. I put everything on as quickly as I could, then went to my door to listen. There wasn’t a noise, except for Mr. Nelson’s even, gentle snoring.

  I leaned out the window, trying to figure out how to climb down. I took a deep breath. “Come on, Irene!” I whispered to myself. “You can do this. I hoisted myself up onto the windowsill and looked for a foothold, stretching a leg deep into the ivy. Fortunately it wasn’t too hard to find one. I left the window ajar and, staying close to the trunk where the branches were the strongest, I carefully climbed down. It was almost impossible to see the branches with the leaves reflecting the moonlight like the scales of a big fish.

  Somehow I managed to make it down to the lawn. I ended up grazing my hand and an elbow, but clenched my teeth into a smile so I wouldn’t look like a crybaby. Lupin was waiting for me just beyond the rose garden. I saw his eyes sparkling in the darkness. “Let’s get going! Sherlock is waiting at the harbor for us,” he said.

  Together, we made our way through the streets. Lupin was in disguise as well. He was wearing what looked like shapeless rags, which were much less sweet smelling than mine, a floppy, old sailor’s hat, and a long, fake beard that made him look vaguely ridiculous. I followed him without saying a word. The shoes he’d given me were horribly tight and the shirt made it difficult to move.

  We went down to the harbor, then up onto the ramparts. “He should be here somewhere,” Lupin muttered, as we traveled from shadow to shadow.

  But Sherlock wasn’t where we were supposed to meet him. There was nothing but a dried bean, its white skin glowing in the moonlight. He’s moved, I thought, picking up the bean. Immediately, I spotted a second bean a few feet away. I picked it up, too, and showed it to Lupin. “He’s left a trail for us.”

  “Spirou must be on the move again!” said Lupin.

  We followed the trail of dried beans and soon found ourselves skirting the ramparts and passing through the huge gate back into the town. We followed the walls, trying to avoid the few people who were still out and about. The church steps seemed ivory and silver in the light of the moon. The old bell tower cast a shadow over the square like a giant spear. We kept moving, looking like shadows ourselves. We descended a steep, crumbling flight of stairs, turned down a lane, and passed under a dreary row of arches that looked like the ribs of a giant skeleton in the dim light.

  Suddenly a hand darted out from the shadows of a side street and grabbed Lupin by the back of his neck. I saw Lupin pull something out from under his shirt — a pistol with a long black barrel. In an instant it was pointed directly at the throat . . . of Sherlock.

  “You frightened me!” Lupin said, putting the weapon back under his shirt.

  “I heard you coming from a hundred feet away!” Sherlock complained, letting go of his friend’s collar. He then gave me a long look. “They suit you,” he said, referring to my clothes.

  “So does your mustache,” I answered, ducking into the shadows of the alley between them. “Did I really see what I think I just saw?”

  “What do you think you just saw?” Sherlock asked.

  “Don’t play games with me,” I whispered coldly. “Do you have a pistol, Lupin?”

  “It’s my father’s,” he answered. “It’s part of his stage act. It doesn’t work but it looks real.” He handed it to me. “See? It’s only to scare them with.”

  It was surprisingly heavy, with an ebony grip inlaid with mother of pearl. It seemed more like a large piece of jewelry than a weapon. “Scare who?” I asked, handing it back to him.

  “We still don’t know yet,” said Sherlock, signaling us to follow him.

  Chapter 19

  BEYOND THE DARKNESS

  We crouched in a corner that stank of damp and filth. The buildings around us were tall, narrow, and decrepit. They looked like old, half-burnt candles. The massive shadow of the town walls to our left concealed us in darkness.

  Sherlock pointed to the other side of the area toward a dilapidated door. I could hardly see a thing at first, but after my eyes adapted to the darkness, I saw the shape of a man guarding the entrance.

  “He went in there?” asked Lupin.

  “And not alone,” Sherlock said from behind us.

  “How many?” I asked.

  “Since I’ve been here, four people have gone in,” Sherlock said.

  “Bad news,” said Lupin.

>   “Not necessarily,” said Sherlock. “It looks like there’s some sort of meeting going on. Perhaps this is exactly what we need.”

  We heard the sound of approaching footsteps. A figure was walking toward the door. The newcomer exchanged a few words with the guard, who stepped aside and let him enter.

  “Just like the other four,” whispered Sherlock.

  “Did you hear what they said?” I asked.

  “I think it was a password or something,” Lupin said, “but I couldn’t make it out.”

  “Sherlock?” I asked.

  Sherlock was peering into the darkness. The moonlight caught his nose, making him look something like the figurehead of a ship. “Sherlock, did you hear me?” I repeated.

  He nodded. “Lupin, give me the pistol,” he said. Lupin handed him the gun, and Sherlock walked across the cobblestone road straight toward the guard. A moment later, Sherlock disappeared into the dark doorway.

  “What is he doing?!” I asked Lupin.

  “No idea,” my friend answered.

  Time seemed to stop. My heart pounded harder, then harder still. Just then, Sherlock came out from the doorway and signaled to us to join him. After exchanging a confused glance, Lupin and I walked toward him.

  “Quickly, give me a hand!” Sherlock said, then dipped back inside.

  A figure was lying on the floor near the entrance. As I neared him, I saw that the man who had been guarding the door was now bound and gagged.

  “Sherlock!” I exclaimed. “What did you do?”

  “Our friend here is just taking a little nap,” he said. “But he’ll wake up soon enough!”

  Sherlock bent down to grab the man under his arms. Lupin took his ankles. Grunting with effort, the two hid him in an empty room nearby.

  “This pistol has a nice, hard grip,” said Sherlock, handing the pistol back to Lupin. They both grinned.

  We followed a dark hallway deeper into the building. Like always, Sherlock walked ahead of us, avoiding every obstacle and threat as if he could see in the dark. Lupin guarded the rear. Somewhere in the distance, above us on the upper floors, we could hear voices, footsteps, and some laughter. We made our way toward the sounds, carefully climbing a staircase that seemed ready to collapse under our shared weight.