22 Leaving the Louvre

Chapter 22 Leaving, the Louvre Keeping a safe distance, the children followed Mr White's route exactly, leaving the pyramid and walking into a large, paved courtyard, surrounded on three sides by imposing limestone pavilions. Suddenly, an ear-splitting alarm began to sound, making them all jump. The high-pitched siren seemed to be coming from everywhere. 'WHAT'S GOING ON?' shouted Little-Bit. 'MY GUESS,' said Peanut, covering her ears, 'IS THAT THE WORLD'S MOST FAMOUS PAINTING HAS JUST CRUMBLED AWAY INTO DUST. OR AT LEAST WHAT THEY THINKIS THE WORLD'S MOST FAMOUS PAINTING HAS JUST CRUMBLED AWAY INTO DUST.'

A vast number of police officers started to spill out from the many doorways and colonnades in the pavilions lining the courtyard, all of them running at top speed towards the pyramid. 'Sacrebleu!' shouted one gendarme as he raced past the gang. 'Apparement, la Joconde vicnt de se désintégrer!' Meanwhile, fifty metres ahead of the children, the bright figure of Mr White was strolling in the opposite direction to the running policemen. Peanut watched as he disappeared through a large archway. 'COME ON! WE MUSTN'T LOSE HIM,' she shouted over the alarm. The children scampered across the courtyard, through the archway and into another square. This one was much smaller, with a large fountain in the middle and four exits, one on each side. 'Which way did he go?' 'There!' said Rockwell, pointing to their right. This exit led straight out on to a wide road running parallel with a river. 'That must be the Seine,' said Little-Bit, proudly displaying her geographical knowledge.

And look, there he is!' Mr White was ambling across a bridge directly in front of them, straight towards a large, domed building on the opposite bank. The children followed, making sure to keep far enough back to avoid being spotted. 'So,' said Peanut, to herself as much as anyone, 'the sculpture on the plinth we came out of must have been the Venus de Milo. I can't believe I didn't recognise it! A year at St Hubert's and my artistic knowledge is already fading away...' 'Seriously though, how are we going to get back to Chroma?' said Rockwell. 'Or better still, home?' 'Listen. Do you remember when Mrs M said that White had been spotted back in the Spire an hour after going through the other portals around Chroma?' Rockwell nodded. And we figured he must be making new portals with Little Tail each time to get back?' He nodded again. ' Well, my guess is that he's going to make another one any minute now and nip through. So we just have to follow him.' 'Simple as that, is it?' said Rockwell sarcastically.

It was deep into the evening now. The sun had almost set and Paris was beginning to twinkle. As they walked across the bridge, they could see the Eiffel Tower to their right, rising majestically above the boulevards. It was lit up like a Christmas tree, shimmering and golden against the purple sky. At the end of the bridge, Mr White crossed the road and turned left in front of the domed building. He then walked for a few hundred metres along the river's south

bank before turning right into the bustling streets of the Latin Quarter. 'We need to get a bit closer to him,' said Peanut, breaking into a jog. 'We don't want to lose him among the crowds.' White picked up his pace slightly as he passed the boutiques and gift shops of Rue Dauphine and then negotiated the rows of parked bicycles and throngs of revellers outside the cocktail bars of Rue André Mazet. Once they'd crossed

into the narrow, pedestrianised Cour du Commerce Saint- André, the children found it a lot tougher to keep an eye on their quarry, as he weaved between the indecisive tourists and the turbo-charged waiters serving diners their al fresco meals. 'It smells so nice,' said Rockwell. 'Anyone else hungry?' 'Keep focused, Rockwell,' said Peanut. 'If we lose him, we are properly stuck. When they eventually emerged, blinking, on to the wide and brightly lit Boulevard Saint-Germain, they were relieved to see Mr White on the opposite side of the road. They still had him in their sights! 'Thank goodness he dresses to match his name,' said Little-Bit. ' Imagine how hard it'd be to spot him if he was called Mr Grey!' He then made a left turn by a large corner cafe with a red awning, and walked south down Rue de l'Odéon. It was a long, straight road lined with clothes shops, all of which had closed for the day, so it was much quieter than the other streets. About halfway along, the gang ducked down behind a clumsily parked scooter and watched as Mr White slowed his pace. 'Is he going to that theatre?' whispered Rockwell. He did appear to be approaching the grandiose, Roman- style building at the end of the street, but then, before he got there, he stopped and bent down. 'This feels strange,' said Peanut. ' What's he up to?'