The Inventor's Son

Chapter 25: In Which the Final Clue is Solved

ETHAN WALKED ALONGSIDE a stone wall for a long time. He had been forced to stop running quite a while back. He found that his legs simply would not run one more inch even if his life depended upon it. The Montmartre was littered with steps, and this added to Ethan's fatigue.

At last, the stone wall receded, and a wrought iron fence replaced it. He stopped and grasped one of the posts and took a few painful breaths. While trying to get his weak heart to stop pounding so much, he glanced around him. Through the mist, he could see some tombstones and stone angels. He looked at the nearest street sign, and found that he'd managed to run all the way to Rue Marcadet. He slowly walked a bit more to the corner of Rue Marcadet and Rue des Grandes Carrieres, and saw a gate that led into a huge cemetery.

"Rue Marcadet? Wait a minute, isn't that where...?" Ethan breathed aloud as he pulled the note from his jacket pocket once again. The name was clearly "Jean Arsenault, 1823 rue Marcadet, on the corner of Marcadet and rue des Grandes Carrieres." Ethan swallowed. This was not a proper address. This was Jean-Baptiste's father's grave!

He walked quietly into the cemetery. He could not help but think back about the mausoleum on the Stanwood property in Southampton, and the day he'd found it when he was seven years old. His cousin Virgil had lured him there. He had seen the niche where his mother was interred, and that the date of her death, the 30th of April, 1877, and his birthday were the exact same date.

When Uncle Malcolm found Ethan there hours later, lying on the floor sobbing that he'd killed his mother, he had grasped Ethan by the hand and spun on his heel, dragging him out. Both Uncle Malcolm and his father had forbidden him to ever return there.

If Ethan died today, it would be suitable if he were placed in the niche just under his mother's, like a progression of sorts. Especially since it would be exactly thirteen years later! He could not help but see the irony of his father sending him to a cemetery to get his clue. Or, at least, to Ethan's tired mind, it seemed ironic.

He looked around for anyone named Arsenault. For a very late April night, it seemed quite cold. Ethan wished he'd brought his heavier jacket. His teeth even began to chatter, and his chest felt heavy. He hoped that he was only feeling so poorly because he'd been running so much.

The moon had illuminated the cemetery until it was blocked by clouds. He'd be in the dark unless he took out his wand and tried to make some sort of flame, which Ethan decided he'd try to avoid if he could. Under normal circumstances, Ethan was reluctant to try anything more elaborate than a shielding spell. After such injury to his brain, he was unwilling to use magic at all. He wondered in disgust why he'd bothered taking his wand.

The shadows of the statues hid many of the head stones' inscriptions, which only delayed Ethan even more. Eventually, he found a gravel path that led to a large mausoleum in the middle of the cemetery. The moonlight finally managed to shine through the mist and the shadows, and the name on the entire mausoleum was "ARSENAULT!"

"Perfect!" Ethan gasped aloud. He marveled for a moment at his father's brilliance. He saw that the huge old padlock on the gated doors was loosely done, so he could pull it open easily. With a creaking sound, the doors swung out, and Ethan stepped quietly into his father's friend's family mausoleum.

Ethan struck a match and lit one of the torches so he could see which of the niches held the remains of Jean Arsenault. But there was a problem. Ethan discovered there were at least four relatives that had been named Jean! "Goodness, these people picked a name and kept with it!" he muttered aloud. Ethan wondered, for one morbid moment, where Jean-Baptiste was interred, but a quick scan of the large mausoleum revealed nothing as to where Marcus' dear old friend had been laid to rest. He had to force himself to resume concentrating on his present task. Ethan thought aloud, "I'm sure Father knew that there were more than one Jean here. I'm certain that he left one more clue." Ethan took the note out one last time.