The Sixty-Eight Rooms (20 page)

“Me too!” he interrupted. As they ran they could feel the magic reversing, and they were quickly getting larger.

“Go faster!” Jack said.

“I am. We’re almost to the restrooms.”

They had grown to about half their normal size by the time they bounded around the corner to the ladies’ room.

“Quick—into the stalls,” Ruthie instructed. This was more than she’d bargained for. Were there security cameras monitoring the restrooms?

“What do we do now?” she whispered to Jack from inside her stall. She could barely hear her voice over the sound of her pounding heart.

“I don’t think we have any choice—we have to go back the way we came and hope that the key shrinks us as we go. Where are you keeping it?”

“It’s in my jeans pocket. Why?”

“As soon as we leave the stalls, hold the key in your hand so the power is full strength.”

“What if someone saw us, Jack? I mean on one of the surveillance cameras,” Ruthie worried out loud.

“All the more reason to get back into the corridor and shrink, fast. Are you finished in there? You ready?”

“Ready!”

Ruthie grabbed Jack’s hand as they exited the stalls. Then she reached into her pocket and held the key tightly.

“C’mon,” Jack urged. “Do you feel anything yet?” They were almost at the exit to the restroom now.

“The key is heating up! Keep going!” she answered in a whisper. They peeked around the corner first, to make sure they were still alone in the hall. Then they kept going.

“Okay, it’s getting hotter,” Ruthie said, still running with Jack.

Finally the process started. At the halfway point to Gallery 11 they were completely mouse-sized again.

Almost breathless, Jack said, “That explains why you couldn’t shrink at my house; we have to be near the Thorne Rooms.”

Just as he said that, the lights in the museum flipped on all at once.

“Faster, Jack!” They rounded the corner into the exhibit. It was only a dozen feet to the alcove, but the loops of carpet slowed down the shrunken twosome and it seemed
to take forever. They reached the door, slipped under and kept running. They ran along the U-shaped corridor and didn’t stop until they reached the far end.

The tiny Jack and Ruthie sat huddled like hunted creatures, catching their breath.

“Do you think the lights went on because we were seen?” Ruthie said after a moment.

“I’m not sure,” Jack started, and then added, “Wait—do you hear something?”

Voices came from the exhibit side.

“That side check out okay?” said the voice of a man.

“Yeah, all clear here. I’ll check the doors,” said the voice of a second man.

They heard the sound of a key going into the lock in the door at the end of the corridor.

“This one’s still locked. Everything looks good. Probably a rodent. We’ll tell them to set some traps around here. These motion detectors are too sensitive.”

That was the last Ruthie and Jack heard. They sat frozen for a few more minutes.

“That was a close call,” Ruthie said, her heart rate finally slowing. Then she added, “What time is it? We’ve got to go meet Sophie!”

On their way back to the catalogue staircase they planned what they would say to Sophie. First, in order to know how soon the French Revolution would start affecting her life, they needed to know the current date for her. They also
wanted to confirm that the people living in the past times could not see the entrances to the rooms. They’d suspected it when the arrows disappeared before their eyes in room E16. What had happened in Thomas’s town seemed to confirm it. But they wanted to be certain it was true for
all
the rooms.

Once up on the ledge, they headed to room E22, the bedroom where they’d found the eighteenth-century clothes. Then, in full costume, they moved on to room E24.

Being outside in eighteenth-century France felt surprisingly normal. Ruthie breathed deeply as they stood on the balcony and scanned the landscape. She looked to see if Sophie was in view yet. Then they set out into the park and walked along the path to wait at the bench where they’d told Sophie they would meet her. They waited for a long time.

“I guess we’re a little early,” Jack said.

“Well, it probably takes her some time to get dressed in the morning. You remember how complicated her hair was! You’d have to get up before dawn to get that fixed up,” Ruthie said. In the morning all she did was run a brush through her hair.

“I never thought of that,” Jack said.

“You’ve never lived with an older sister!” Ruthie said.

“Bonjour, mes amis!
How are you today?” Sophie said as she ran up to them from behind. They turned and she kissed them each on both cheeks.

“Bonjour!”
Ruthie couldn’t resist saying.

“Hello!” Jack said to Sophie. “How are you?”

“I am very well,
merci!”
Sophie had a small canvas bag out of which she pulled three freshly baked croissants, handing one to Ruthie and one to Jack. “I have not eaten yet. Have you?”

“Thanks,” Ruthie said, taking a bite of the still-warm roll. The flaky bread melted in her mouth with the rich taste of butter. Croissants didn’t taste like this in Chicago!

“We have the best baker in the court
cuisine,”
Sophie said, taking a dainty bite. Ruthie was pretty sure
cuisine
meant “kitchen.”

As Sophie spoke, her tutor approached. He had a book in his hands again today, open so that he could read as he walked. Sophie said something to him in French and then introduced them all. The tutor’s name was Monsieur Lesueur. He had a mass of curly hair, wire-rimmed reading glasses and a comfortably disheveled look.

“Enchanté,”
he said, bowing formally to Ruthie. He took her hand and kissed it.

She felt a bit embarrassed and simply replied, “Hello.”

Jack, on the other hand, held out his hand for Monsieur Lesueur to shake, saying, “Pleased to meet you.”

Sophie’s tutor seemed to be acting as a chaperone. “Shall we walk as we talk?” he suggested, making it clear that he would not be leaving Sophie alone with them. He spoke perfect English, with a British accent.

“Sophie tells me you are here from the colonies. How
very interesting. It is a voyage I dream of making someday,” the tutor said. “In what city do you live?”

Ruthie said, “We are from Philadelphia. Our father works with the new congress and we’ve been traveling with him.” Feeling pleased that she had contributed something useful, she realized she had the perfect opportunity to find out an important piece of information. Just as they had asked Thomas, she said, “We have been traveling so much that I’ve lost track of the days. What is today’s date?”

Monsieur Lesueur answered that it was May 20. But he didn’t say what year!

Jack checked his mental files; he was pretty sure Ben Franklin had returned to America in 1785. The French Revolution had started in 1789. He took a stab at it.

“Seventeen eighty-four?”

Both Sophie and her tutor roared with laughter. “Goodness, you must have been traveling a long time! It is 1785!” Sophie corrected.

Ruthie laughed too. “Jack loves to make jokes,” she offered as an explanation.

Jack turned a little red but decided to laugh with them. At least they had the information they needed. But Monsieur Lesueur wanted to hear about the legendary Ben Franklin.

“Monsieur Franklin is a most fascinating and learned man,” he started. “Does your father work as an assistant to Monsieur Franklin?”

“Yes,” Jack answered. “And now his job is to help Mr. Franklin finish his work here and accompany him on his voyage back home. Because of the situation here.”

“The situation?” Sophie asked.

“The Americans and Mr. Franklin believe there will be a revolution here,” Jack replied matter-of-factly.

Sophie gasped. “A revolution! When?”

“Soon—in a few years. There are many people who are ready to fight—and kill—in order to overthrow your king.”

“I am not surprised,” the tutor said. “I too have witnessed many unhappy people who are demanding change. They have heard what happened in your country. You won freedom from the king of England and they want that as well. Maybe this would be a good time for planning the trip to America I have wanted to take.”

Sophie looked very concerned. “Do you really think it will happen?”

“We are sure it will,” said Ruthie.

Sophie looked at her tutor for reassurance.

“Perhaps we can arrange for you to continue your studies in England,” he said kindly.

“I should like that very much! I do not like violence!” Sophie exclaimed.

Ruthie thought Sophie sounded very young when she said that. If she had been in Sophie’s place she would have been feeling the same.

Then Sophie added, “And perhaps I would not have to get married so soon!”

“How much longer will you be in Paris?” Monsieur Lesueur asked.

“We are leaving today,” Jack said.

“Quel dommage
—what a pity,” Sophie said, looking at Jack. “Can you not stay longer?”

“I wish we could,” Jack said.

The four of them walked down the path. The roses in the gardens along the side smelled so sweet, and they were so occupied with warning Sophie, that Jack and Ruthie almost forgot their other task. Finally Ruthie remembered what she needed to ask.

“This is such a beautiful garden. How far does this path go?” They were facing the façade of room E24 and the stairs up to the balcony, which Jack and Ruthie could see plain as day. Monsieur Lesueur answered.

“It is quite long; one can walk fifteen minutes in any direction. Except that one,” he said, pointing to the balconies. “Beyond that dense grove of sycamore trees is a wall, and then the streets of the city on the other side.”

“Really!” Ruthie said. “And there are no other buildings over there? Just trees and a wall?”

“Of course,” Sophie said, laughing at Ruthie. “Can you not see it is only trees?”

Jack quickly changed the subject. “We have to go meet our father now. Maybe we will come back to Paris sometime.”

“But surely you can stay a little longer?” Sophie said with big, sad eyes.

“I’m afraid he’s already waiting for us,” Ruthie said. “We really must be going.”

“But how will we stay in contact?” Sophie asked.

Jack thought quickly, remembering what he had told Sophie yesterday. “Send letters to the American embassy. They will get to us eventually.” Then he reached out to shake Monsieur Lesueur’s hand goodbye.

“It was a great pleasure to meet you. Maybe I will see you in America,” Monsieur Lesueur said. “Sophie, shall we be on our way?”

“If we must,” she sighed. “Please be safe on the ship!” She gave both of them hugs and kissed their cheeks. Ruthie noticed Jack blush a little.
“Au revoir. Bon voyage!”
Then she wiped a tear from her eye as they parted. Ruthie felt a lump in her throat.

The problem facing Ruthie and Jack now was that they weren’t sure how to make their exit. They were pretty sure that if they approached the balcony stairs they would appear to just vanish, and they did not want to confuse Sophie and Monsieur Lesueur. The only thing to do was to go in the opposite direction from Sophie without getting lost. So they did this until Sophie and her tutor were out of sight and then they backtracked, making sure they didn’t bump into either of them.

When they reached the stairs to the balcony, they saw an old man taking a walk. They waited until he passed, and then climbed the first set of stairs. But when they reached the landing they turned and saw him staring in the direction
of the very place at the bottom of the stairs where they had just disappeared. He must have turned around at the very moment they’d become invisible!

“Zut alors!”
the man said, scratching his head in confusion.

“I guess there’s nothing we can do about that now,” Jack said. “Poor man!”

“And no one will ever believe him, I’m sure!” They climbed the rest of the stairs, then stood on the balcony for a few minutes, watching him shake his head as he walked off.

Back inside the room, they looked around, stalling; they knew it was Sunday and the adventure was almost over.

“You know the museum’s gonna open soon,” Jack said glumly. “There’s still so much we haven’t figured out about all this.”

Ruthie stood at the desk looking at the beautiful journal that she had opened before. The book in room E1 had been filled with answers and magic. This one seemed to hold no such magic; she wasn’t seeing any special glow or hearing any strange sounds. But something told her to open it. She took the key out of the drawer and unlocked the book’s clasp. While Jack looked around the room one last time, Ruthie lifted the ornate cover.

She opened the journal to the first page. Like Duchess Christina’s book, this one had very elaborate handwriting and she could barely make out the letters, but slowly her eyes adjusted. She couldn’t read any of it, though, since it was all in French, except …

“Jack! Look! Does this say what I think it says?” Ruthie nearly started to shake.

Jack rushed over. He looked at the page, cocking his head to one side, trying to make out what she was so excited about.

“Is that an L?” he asked.

“No! No! It’s an
S
!
S, O, P, H, I, E
! It says
Sophie
… and look:
Lacombe
! Wasn’t that her last name?”

“Wow … yeah, it was!”

“Jack, I was wondering,” she started. “Do you think it would be terrible if we borrowed this journal?”

“Are you kidding? We have to! We have to find out what happened to her!”

Ruthie quickly turned to the back of the journal. “I think I remember that it looked unfinished … see?” Sure enough, the writing stopped in the middle of a page, and there were empty pages after that. They looked at each other, neither one willing to mention what they were both thinking: that something terrible might have happened to Sophie.

Ruthie closed the journal and held it tightly, frustrated by not having the answers. Why wouldn’t this book speak to her like Christina’s and tell her what happened to Sophie? If there was magic in this book surely she would
feel something—it would be warm in her hands. Just as that thought occurred to her, she felt a faint but noticeable change in temperature. The journal was definitely warming her skin. But it lasted only long enough for Ruthie to doubt that she’d felt it at all.