Having trailed her prime suspect throughout the streets of Paris, Nancy was dismayed to see him leap suddenly down a manhole and into the fabled Parisian sewers. The girl detective had no choice: she took a deep breath and then plunged underground too to continue her pursuit of her quarry, with only her trusty flashlight to illuminate the way through the gloom.
After nearly an hour, Nancy was close to giving up when her lamp’s beam picked up the disheveled and filthy LaMotte looking dismayed, his path blocked by a monstrous fatberg. He had obviously slipped and fallen into the mire of the sewers in his desperate attempt to escape, and he now he looked both defeated and disgusted. “Surrender, LaMotte!” the young sleuth called out to him. “You can see that there is no way you can get away now!” In truth Nancy was unsure how the fraudster would react - would he charge at her like a cornered rat, or would he meekly submit? To her relief, LaMotte chose the latter option, only too glad it seemed, to be led away from the stench of the fatberg and the increasing darkness of the tunnels. “Ok,” he mumbled and allowed Nancy to take his arm, tie his hands behind his back, then guide him back the way the pair had come to the clean brightness of the surface.