The Knight of Maison-Rouge_ A Novel of Marie Antoinette - Alexandre Dumas [133]
“I’ve never said there is no underground passage under the Conciergerie,” Richard replied. “Gracchus2 here, he’s been a wicket clerk for ten years, and so he knows the Conciergerie like the back of his hand, but he’s never heard of this underground passage citizen Giraud’s talking about. But, since citizen Giraud is a city architect, he’d have to know more about it than we do … since that’s his job.”
Théodore shivered from head to toe on hearing these words.
“Luckily,” he murmured, “the hall is huge; they’ll be looking for two days at least before they find what they’re looking for.”
But the architect unrolled his great scroll, put on his glasses, and knelt in front of a map, which he examined by the flickering light of the lantern Gracchus was holding.
“I’m afraid,” said Santerre, “that citizen Giraud has been dreaming.”
“You’ll see, citizen general,” the architect shot back, “you’ll see if I’m a dreamer. Just wait.”
“I am waiting,” said Santerre.
“Fine,” said the architect as he started measuring. “Twelve and four are sixteen,” he said. “And eight is twenty-four, which, divided by six, is four; after that we still have half over; that’s it, I’ve got my bearings, and if I’m off by a foot, tell me I’m an ignoramus.”
The architect pronounced these words with such assurance that citizen Théodore froze in terror. Santerre looked at the map with a kind of respect; you could see he admired it all the more because it didn’t make the slightest sense.
“Listen carefully to what I’m about to say.”
“Where do we look?” asked Santerre.
“At the map I’ve made, for pity’s sake! Are you with me? Thirteen feet from the wall, there’s a loose flagstone. I’ve marked it. You see it?”
“I see an A, of course,” said Santerre. “Do you think I can’t read?”
“Underneath this flagstone there’s a staircase,” the architect continued unperturbed. “See, I’ve marked it with a B.”
“B,” Santerre repeated. “I can see a B, but I can’t see the staircase.” The general guffawed at his joke.
“Once we’ve taken up the flagstone, once we’ve got our feet on the last step,” the architect went on, “count out fifty paces three feet long and look around; you’ll find yourself right at the registrar’s office, where the tunnel will come up after passing under the Queen’s cell.”
“The Widow Capet’s, you mean, citizen Giraud,” said Santerre, frowning sternly.
“Ah, yes! The Widow Capet’s.”
“It’s just that you said the Queen’s.”
“Old habit.”
“And you reckon we’ll be under the office?” asked Richard.
“Not only under the office, but I can tell you what part of the office we’ll be under: we’ll be under the stove.”
“Wait a minute, that’s odd!” said Gracchus. “Every time I drop a log at that spot the stone reverberates!”
“In all honesty, if we find what you say we’ll find, citizen architect, I’ll have to admit that geometry is a beautiful thing.”
“Well then, admit it, citizen Santerre, because I’m about to take you to the spot marked with the letter A.”
Citizen Théodore dug his nails into his flesh.
“When I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” said Santerre. “I’m a bit like Saint Thomas, a bit of a doubting Thomas, I am.”
“Ha! Saint Thomas, you say?”
“Cripes, yes, just like you said the Queen, out of habit; but no one’s going to accuse me of plotting to save Saint Thomas.”
“Or me the Queen.”
With that retort, the architect delicately took his ruler, did his sums, and, when he stopped, after having carefully measured all the distances, he tapped on a flagstone.
It was exactly the same flagstone citizen Théodore had tapped during his little performance of wild rage.
“This is it, citizen general!” said the architect.
“You think so, citizen Giraud?”
Still kneeling in the scribe’s booth,