“He used his time here to plan his attack on Monsieur Arsov,” said Agnes, keeping her eyes trained on Winston. The dog was at the door, as if waiting on her. He swept his head forward and caught her eye before taking off at a rapid clip. “He’s going,” she said.
Winston pricked his ears. He lunged forward at a lope. Agnes and Julien sprinted to catch up. Marie-Chantal grabbed the handles of Daniel’s wheelchair and Mulholland brought up the rear.
Winston led them down a long corridor to the opposite wing of the chateau. They burst through the door of a large room, rarely used. Agnes stopped when she was across the threshold. Her heart was pounding and she experienced a rapid sense of disappointment. No Mimi. And Marie-Chantal was correct, maybe Estanguet hadn’t taken the girl. Maybe she had created this out of whole cloth based on a painting, a ring, and the idea that someone could change their name.
The room resembled a medieval banquet hall. In the center stood a long table surrounded by forty high-backed wood chairs. Large Flemish tapestries covered three of the walls. Two complete suits of armor guarded the opposite door. Despite this, the space felt empty.
Winston walked the perimeter, nose down. Agnes caught her breath and wondered if they were all crazy, following a dog. She held Mimi’s stuffed toy out to him. He ignored her.
“Who searched this room last night?” she asked.
“I did,” said Mulholland. He was pale. “With Monsieur Estanguet.”
They glanced around.
“There’s nowhere to hide,” Marie-Chantal said. “Under the table. I suppose around the suits of armor. There’s nowhere else.”
“We pulled out the chairs,” Mulholland said. “Estanguet suggested we see if she was lying on top of them.” He shrugged. “And he thumped the tapestries, but they’re too close to the wall to conceal even a small child. This can’t be where she is. We looked.”
Agnes did a quick circuit of the room, glancing behind the suits of armor, under the table. She fingered her pocket, wishing for a cigarette. They had to be close. Mimi was in the chateau, she was sure of it.
“Do you remember getting lost for a few days when you were small?” Julien asked Daniel. “I was already at boarding school, but the old cook talked about it for years.”
“I was three? Maybe four?” Daniel replied. “I don’t remember anything other than what they told me later. There was a door open and I wandered in and someone shut it and didn’t know to look for me there.”
“How would Estanguet know where to hide her?” Marie-Chantal asked. “How could he find someplace we don’t know about?”
“He’s been in the library for months,” said Agnes, eyes trained on Winston. “Maybe he learned something there. Documents that show the chateau’s evolution. Hidden passages, places built over. I keep finding concealed stairs. There are tunnels you had forgotten about. Maybe we didn’t search everywhere.”
“The American might have helped him,” Mulholland said.
“What do you know about him?” Agnes asked.
“Unwittingly helped him. Nick Graves is doing research on the construction of the chateau.” The Vallottons looked at Mulholland, startled. “I can read,” he said. “And sometimes when I can’t sleep I wander the library. His notes are laid out on one of the tables.”
Winston rubbed his head along the largest of the tapestries. Six meters long and four tall, it covered the length of one wall. Agnes noticed that the woven hunting scene was complete with mounted horses, running dogs, and fearsome wild beasts, and she hoped that wasn’t what attracted Winston. He walked up and down the length of the fabric, nose down, inhaling huge drafts of air. Under the pressure from his head the entire scene rippled. Suddenly he stopped, drawing in a torrent of oxygen through his nose. He held his breath for a second, then moaned, sitting.
“There,” Agnes pointed. “He’s found something.”
Julien ran to the end of the tapestry and hauled the edge away from the wall. It was heavy and he could only move it a hand’s width from the stone. “Hand me a light,” he called.
Agnes knelt to peer beneath his outstretched arm, attempting to help hold the fabric. Her flashlight beam caught the outline of a slight recess in the wall several meters away. Winston pushed underneath and Agnes followed. The fabric’s weight pressed against her head and shoulder, and she had difficulty edging forward. In front of her, the dog’s nose was pressed to the ground and his back end quivered.
“He’s got the scent,” Agnes called out, her voice muffled. “There’s a door. It doesn’t run all the way to the ground, that’s why no one saw it beneath the bottom of the tapestry. What’s behind this wall?”
“A billiard room is on the other side,” said Daniel, “but between this room and that, the wall is more of a thickness. There’s a spiral stair up and a small water closet, some built-in cabinets further along.”