25 Le Cimetiere du Montparnasse

Chapter 25 Le Cimetiere du Montparnasse Quick, Rockwell! Over here,' hissed Peanut, as her friend pulled himself clear of the manhole. He ran over to join the sisters, who were hiding behind a small, stone building hidden among trees. 'D-did you see that?' he stammered. 'He got my trainer!' 'Be quiet!' snapped Peanut. 'He's coming. Seconds later, they saw a dishevelled young gendarme with a black beard emerge from the opening, his police cap in one hand and Rockwell's shoe in the other. He dusted himself down and looked around, before running off in the opposite direction.

Peanut exhaled. 'That was close.' 'It was so FUN!' said Little-Bit. 'Can we do it again?' 'Er, I'd rather not! I'd like to retain at least one item of footwear, thank you very much. Now I know how Cinderella felt!' said Rockwell. He looked around. 'Right, so where are we now?' The children were surrounded by avenues of stone buildings and monuments stretching away in all directions. 'Wow. These houses are all very small,' said Little-Bit. That's cos they're not houses,' said Peanut. They're tombs.' 'TOMBS?' said Rockwell, backing away from the stone wall that they were leaning on. 'Yes,' said Peanut. 'Look at what's on top of them all. Sure enough, the vast majority were topped with stone crosses or statues of angels, and many of the structures were far too low to house a person. At least, an upright person. Also, they all had names and dates carved into their walls, and were surrounded by freshly cut flowers. An entire city made of gravestones,' whispered Rockwell. 'It's actually le Cimetiére du Montparnasse,' said Little-Bit, as she picked up a discarded leaflet from the ground and waved it at the others. 'Which means the Montparnasse Cemetery. Look, here's a little map. Peanut took the leaflet and opened it. Sure enough, it

featured a detailed, illustrated plan of the entire cemetery with a long list of names, in alphabetical order, on the right- hand side. Are those some of the people buried here then?" said Rockwell. 'Looks like it,' replied Peanut. ' The famous ones, I guess.' 'De Beauvoir, Beckett, Chirac, Conté, Gainsbourg, Man Ray, Sartre, Seurat...' Rockwell shook his head. 'Never heard of any of them.' 'Er, are you sure about that?' said Peanut. ' Yes!' said Rockwell, indignantly. 'De Beauvoir... De Beau-who? Beckett... nope. Chirac... sorry. Conté... no idea. Gainsbourg... not a clue. OH!' He paused. 'WAIT! CONTÉ? Is that our Conté? You know, the pencil bloke?' 'It must be!' said Peanut excitedly. 'It's too much of a coincidence otherwise!' 'Er, guys. I've found something else,' said Little-Bit. She was standing by a large wooden stick lying in the middle of the path. It had what looked like an old rag wrapped around the end of it which, strangely, was smoking. She picked it up (by the non-smoking end) and sniffed. ' Sulphur! This is the torch we were following through the tunnels. Mr White must have come up the same ladder we did. Which means... 'Which means, he's here in the graveyard too,' said Peanut. ' But where? And why would he come here?'

A smile started to appear on Rockwell's face. 'You know what, guys? I think I know the answers 'to both of: those questions.'