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beds within minutes of getting in the door. Frank mumbled something about making a list of computer chores for Jacques to handle the next day. As he drifted into sleep, a weird two-toned buzz hammered through his foggy brain.
    â€œMmmph,” Joe muttered. “Phone. You get it.”
    Frank forced himself into full consciousness and sat up. “Where is it?” he asked, turning on the light. Joe’s only response was a deep, long sigh ending in a sort of rumbling snore.
    Frank stumbled through the room and out into the hall. The phone was buzzing from a small shelf carved into the wall. He grabbed the receiver and cut off the sound in midbuzz.
    â€œHello,” he said. “Bonsoir?”
    â€œFrank Hardy?” a scratchy familiar voice answered in English. “This is Isabelle Genet.”

9 The Art of Detecting
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    â€œMademoiselle Genet,” Frank said. He shook his head; he knew it was time to be wide-awake. “What can I do for you?”
    â€œI would like to meet with you and your brother,” she said. “I have changed my mind since our previous conversation. I would be happy to advise you on how to set up an organization like Victoire in the United States. It is an admirable goal, and I should not have been so abrupt in rejecting your request.”
    â€œThat’s great news, Mademoiselle Genet.” Frank’s mind had gone from nearly asleep to high alert. “When and where?”
    â€œHow about meeting at the Louvre,” she suggested. “At the foot of La Victoire de Samothrace, at three o’clock?”
    â€œWe’ll be there,” Frank answered. “And thank you.”
    â€œAu revoir.” Mademoiselle Genet signed off, and the receiver went dead.
    By the time Frank got back to his bed, the sleep curtain was closing on his brain again. He scribbled three—Louvre—IG on a notepad on the bedside table and quickly sank into a deep sleep.
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    Friday morning began with much better weather than Thursday had. All the fog and chilly air were chased away by sunny blue skies. Fenton was long gone by ten, the time Frank and Joe rolled out of their beds.
    The unexpected invitation from Isabelle Genet made both Hardys suspicious of a setup. Over breakfast they checked out tourist guides to the Louvre. It wasn’t easy trying to use small maps to get a feel for the enormous scope and scale of the famous art museum.
    â€œWe’re meeting at La Victoire de Samothrace,” Frank said. “That’s the sculpture of Winged Victory.”
    â€œVictoire… Victory. I get it,” Joe said.
    â€œRemember what Dad told us about the museum?” Frank asked Joe.
    â€œYou mean the rumors about the passageways and staircases hidden between the walls?” Joe asked.
    â€œExactly,” Frank said. “This place was a palacefor French kings from 1190 on. So there were escape routes built into it.”
    â€œIt’s been a museum for over two hundred years. Too bad the secret stuff isn’t on the map,” Joe said. He looked at another guide. “I wonder why she chose the Louvre in the first place? It’s one of the most famous places in Paris.”
    â€œThat’s probably why,” Frank pointed out. “She’s really into high-profile places. She works hard at making sure everyone sees her and knows who she is.”
    â€œCould be,” Joe said with a smile. “And maybe she’s just an art lover.”
    â€œOr…” Frank paused for a moment before he spoke again. “Remember what Jacques told us? No one really knows where the Victoire headquarters is. Maybe it’s near the Louvre, and it’s just convenient for her to meet us there.”
    â€œSpeaking of Jacques, should we call him and let him in on this?”
    â€œWe can’t,” Frank said. “It’s too risky. We don’t know what Isabelle Genet really has in mind. If