Chapter XXXVII

The Christian Archives of Paris is an ancient building nestled in a hidden alley on the bustling Champs-Élysées. The level of seclusion here is poorly known even to the nearby shops and residents. So it took me a lot of effort to get to the bottom of this bleak little building with the help of Google Maps.

Standing in front of the building, if I had removed the hustle and bustle of Paris and only looked at this small two-story medieval building, I would have thought that I had come to the legendary haunted house.

The wind in front of the small building swept the fallen leaves, and it was cold and no one was seen. The old stone fence is covered with roses and encloses a small secluded courtyard.

I walked to the rusty iron door, and was surprised to find that it was actually open, indicating that there were people here, which was really a surprise.

Pushing open the creaking iron door, I walked in, and the school courtyard was actually very neat, and it was surprisingly clean.

I climbed the stairs and walked up the broken stone steps to the front porch of the small building, the old door was ajar, and it opened as soon as I pushed it, and I called out a few times while standing at the door, but no one spoke, so I walked uninvited into this dark and decayed old antique house.

As soon as he walked into the living room, an old priest who looked to be in his eighties walked out of the kitchen with a dinner plate. It turned out that he was preparing breakfast.

The old priest was very surprised to see a visitor, and I was about to explain why I was not invited, but the old priest politely invited me to sit down, and asked me in a slurred voice if I would like to have breakfast with him.

The French are very hospitable, and if they say that they invite you to dinner, they are generally sincere, unlike in China, where most of them are required, so I nodded and agreed to the invitation, and the old priest was very happy, and hurriedly went to the kitchen to prepare a pair of knives and forks.

The old priest's breakfast was simple, a cup of black coffee, two slices of butter bread, and half an orange.

I turned down the bread and drank two cups of coffee, and to be honest, the old priest's craft at making coffee was top-notch. When it comes to coffee, instant noodles on the market can't compete with hand-rolled noodles at home, just like instant noodles.

After having breakfast with the old priest, I explained my intention.

When the old priest heard me say that he wanted to know more about the catacombs of Paris, his expression changed so clearly that I thought he would refuse, but he only looked at me earnestly, then stood up and asked me to go with him to the basement.

I never expected that this old little building would have a basement. Very curious, he followed the old priest.

The old priest took out a portable battery lamp from the corner under the windowsill, pulled out an old-fashioned key, opened the small door that I thought was a toilet, turned on the portable lamp, and walked down the steps to the basement.

I went in, and as soon as I entered the door I smelled a strong musty smell, and the old priest told me to watch my step.

The steps are steep, but not deep, just over two meters.

When you go down to the basement, it may be because of the hand lamp, the air looks very muddy, and the musty smell is even stronger.

The basement is not large, with two rows of coarse wooden shelves on the left and right, but it is very sturdy. It was filled with wooden boxes covered with thick dust, and the old priest asked me to remove one from the second floor of the shelf. Not to mention, it's quite heavy.

He used an ancient iron key to insert~ into the keyhole, and then twisted it, click, the old lock was actually very sensitive, and opened in response.

The old wooden box was opened, and it was filled with rolls of sheepskin.

"It's all here!" The old priest whispered, "Young man, I don't know why you went to the catacombs. But I advise you, it's better not to go there. ”

"Why?" I saw that the old priest had something to say, and I couldn't help asking.

"Because there are ghosts there!" The old priest's old face looked strange in the light and shadow of the lamp. My heart moved, but I still said that I really couldn't help but go.

Seeing that he didn't persuade me, the old priest sighed and muttered something, but I didn't hear it, he told me to stay in the basement and watch it slowly, he had to watch the update of "The Big Bang Theory".

Of course, I have no opinion, but I just feel the powerful corrosive ability of American dramas, and even clergy with a calm temperament like the old priest are chasing the drama.

The old priest left the lamp and stood up tremblingly and left.

I was alone in the old basement, smelling the musty smell, picking up a roll of parchment from the chest, untying the rope, and slowly checking it.

After looking at them for a while, I discovered that most of these parchment scrolls were the notes of the priests who collected the bones and transported them to the catacombs in Paris. In it, the entire process of the formation of the underground tombs is recorded in detail.

The Catacombs of Paris, also known as the Paris Underground Tunnel, are about 20 meters above the ground, and the total estimated length is about 300 kilometers, mainly distributed in the underground of the 4th, 5th and 15th arrondissements of Paris, as well as the Montmartre underground. Excavations from the Middle Ages, originally as a passage to an underground quarry, Notre-Dame Cathedral, stone buildings in the city of Paris, were mostly built in stone excavated underground in Paris. This kind of work went on for a long time.

In the 18th century, due to the outbreak of smallpox and plague in Paris, a large number of Parisian residents died, and the cemetery area on the ground was seriously insufficient, so the mayor decided to dig a pit, bury the dead in the earth, and then take out the remaining bones and fill in the underground tunnels and some underground buildings a month later, so that part of the underground tunnels will lead to these underground buildings full of bones.

The work was carried out by the clergy, and the work was more than expected, and it was not officially completed until 1810, and the final pile of bones was between 6 million and 7 million. Because there were so many bones that could not be matched, and some of them could no longer find the heads, the clergy finally stopped looking for the bones of the whole person, but sorted the bones according to their categories, simply marking the year of a certain pile of bones and the cemetery from which they were transferred, and sporadically set up a few stone tablets with a few Latin inscriptions.

I looked at these real notes. I can't help but feel the greatness of the ordinary and hard-working clergy. But that didn't help me, so I had to put them back in their place with respect and continue searching.

Finally, just as I was about to give up, I finally found a drawing in a scroll of notes at the bottom of the box, and I carefully identified the owner of the note. Roderick: "That's him, that's the name of the priest Ann told me about.

As I excitedly rolled up the map and the notes and stuffed them into my arms, I suddenly heard the dull sound of things falling from upstairs. It sounded like the priest had fallen. At his age, wrestling was no fun, and I found the note, so I quickly got up and went up the stairs with a lamp.

I pulled the door open and found it locked. I slammed it twice, and the door was as strong as cast.

Why did the old priest lock the door, now it's okay, how can I get out.

"Hey!" I shouted twice, but no one answered.

I was afraid that the old priest would have an accident, and in a fit of rage, I struck the door with my knee, and after a few blows, the door cracked, and finally I struck a big hole with a wail.

I reached out and opened the door outside, and I came out of the basement and rushed to the living room, where I immediately saw the old priest lying straight ~upright~ on the floor of the living room.

I was startled, and hurriedly squatted down and touched ~ his carotid artery, it's late! I plucked his eyelids and saw that his pupils were dilated. It's really completely out of play.

I turned around and checked the old priest's body, and there were no obvious scars, only a break on my wrist, and I picked it up and saw that there were several tooth marks on it, as if it had been bitten by something. But it was definitely not a snake bite, because a poisonous snake bite could only leave two fangs to stab a person. There were several, but a few small wounds were still the culprits that caused the old priest to lose his life.

Because the old priest's arm has taken on a black-purple color, it is obvious that it is highly poisonous.

I hurriedly stood up and glanced around, but I didn't see the culprit. Who killed the old priest, why did he have an accident when I first came here, and what was the murderer's intention. I would never think this was just a coincidence, because an eighty-year-old man would never make a mortal enemy again.

Then there is only one explanation, the murderer is here for me, and the old priest just made a bad deal with the pond fish. But here comes the question again, I came to the Christian Archives in Paris last night on the spur of the moment, so who would follow me here, lock me in the basement and kill the old priest. Is the murderer trying to get some information from the old priest, or is he trying to prevent me from getting it?

Just as I was thinking about the splitting headache, a siren suddenly sounded in the distance, "Oh no, the police are coming!" ”

I secretly accused the murderer of being cunning, not only killing people, but also framing him, and in two minutes, the police would burst through the gate, and I had no time to erase all traces of my legacy in a short time.

There was no way, I simply disposed of the footprints next to the old priest's corpse, and then walked away, it's not that I'm irresponsible, it's really difficult for me to explain the situation at the moment, even if I can prove my innocence in the end, it will be a long time later, I squatted in the classroom for a few months or even a year for no reason, I don't want to suffer this crime, and I don't have the consciousness of being a good citizen of Paris.

I believe that more is better than less, and it is better to be troublesome.

Slipping out of the door, I directly performed the kung fu of flying eaves and walking on the wall, and I slipped away without realizing it.

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