Page 75 of Whispers At Dawn
Surely this must be for something significant, or why would a key be stashed away like this? Armand found it most intriguing, and his instincts told him there was more to this château than met the eye. He cast about for a fitting hole for the key but couldn’t find one. Then he thought it must be the key for thedoor and chided himself for missing the obvious, but when he jangled the key in the lock, it didn’t fit.
Armand turned the key over in his hands and puzzled what to do. This key must fit something in the little room high in the sky, but what?
The evening brought one disappointment after another. He had still not glimpsed the dashing Michel Dubois, and soon he would have to leave.
Armand made another round of the room, his eyes searching for a lock that could be a receptacle for the key. He stooped down, groaning at the strain as he tried to push the thick heavy rug aside. He scanned the room for any telltale signs of a secret compartment. In his training at Gestapo HQ, they had taught them about the many ways their enemies were caught concealing their spy equipment.
Armand sneezed again, glanced at his watch, and realised Von Schneider might have summoned him already. The Gestapo officer hadn’t seemed like a patient man. He must go now but promised himself he would return at the next opportunity and conduct a more comprehensive search. He was weary, and his sore leg throbbed, so he pushed the rug back with his shoe, released a long-laboured sigh, and walked to the door and back down the winding stone steps.
Armand tried to hurry, but it was difficult with his uncooperative leg. Halfway down the spiral staircase, his fingers clasped the cold ornate key in his pocket, and he smiled.
At least he had something tangible to show for his efforts.
CHAPTER 38
Lizzie and Jack lingered in the courtyard. Jack lit a cigarette and inhaled as he searched the sky for answers. ‘We must warn Luc and Suzanne.’
‘Yes, I wouldn’t know the first thing about which rooms to prepare, and the housemaids only follow her instructions.’
They agreed Jack would join the men, and Lizzie would run back to the cellars, check on the sick airman, and tell Suzanne she was needed back at the château urgently.
‘I don’t like you having to go over there at this time of night alone, but if I don’t follow them inside soon, it might look suspicious.’
‘It’s fine, darling, don’t worry. You go in and warn Luc however you can. Make up some excuse about Suzanne needing longer to ready the rooms, and I’ll bring her back.’
Jack brushed Lizzie’s lips with the lightest of kisses. ‘I love you. Be careful.’ He turned and strode towards the château, glancing back from the door.
Lizzie blew him a kiss, picked up the hem of her dress and ran as fast as she could across the gardens and towards the vineyards. Her hair flew as she ran, and she was exhilarated bythe wind in her face. By the time she reached the cellar entrance, she was panting so hard she had to stop and rest.
Grabbing the lantern, she disappeared into the cellars, almost losing her footing on the rough surface of the steps. The sudden hoot of an owl echoed around the ancient cavern, and her scalp tingled, and her flesh erupted in goosebumps. Jack was right—it was creepy down here at night.
Lizzie arrived in the belly of the dark cellar and held her lantern over the wine barrel where Suzanne had been hiding. Lifting the lid, she found it empty. Then she heard a thud and tapped three times on the wall of the secret room. It was their agreed safety signal. Lizzie opened the door and stood face-to-face with Suzanne.
‘What’s going on? They need you at the château,’ she whispered.
The housekeeper ran her hand over her bun and pushed the loose tendrils off her forehead. ‘It’s not good news, I’m afraid. Come in and see for yourself.’
Suzanne stepped aside and Lizzie entered the musty room. ‘Doctor! I thought you would have gone by now. It’s too dangerous to be here.’
The old doctor’s face was grey from exhaustion when he raised his eyes to Lizzie’s. ‘I couldn’t leave this poor man in this state.’ He stood and moved away from the thrashing airman, whose wound was soaked with fresh blood that had seeped onto the thin makeshift mattress.
Suzanne knelt by the wounded man and cooled his head with a damp towel, soothing him with soft words as though he were a child.
The doctor beckoned Lizzie to the far side of the room and lowered his voice. ‘He won’t make it through the night if we don’t get him to a hospital. I don’t have sulfa powder for the infection and without it …’ He shook his head, sadness in his eyes.
‘But we can’t take him to a hospital. That’s as good as signing his death warrant,’ Lizzie whispered.
‘I understand, but what do you suggest? I have tried every trick in the book and can do no more for him here. His temperature is raging, the bleeding has worsened in the past hour, and he is weak from fighting the infection for so long. It has a death grip on him.’
Lizzie looked over at the young airman. He had defended his country and was now slipping away from life in a cold cellar in France, his loved ones far out of reach. She felt inadequate and wished she had a magic wand to restore him to good health.
‘I have an idea,’ she said.
The doctor looked at her curiously. ‘That’s good news. I have been out of ideas for some time.’
‘It’s better I don’t tell you the details, but trust me, we will do all we can for him.’
The doctor reluctantly agreed to leave after checking on his patient one more time and changing the bandages on the wound.
