The Mysterious Benedict Society mbs-1 Read online

  “I know you have questions,” Mr. Benedict said. “And I may be able to offer some answers now, though some must come later. What’s on your mind?”

  “I’d like to know who we’re waiting for,” said Kate.

  “That I can answer. Her name is Constance Contraire, a test-taker like yourselves. I must say she’s given us all quite a turn. A most amusing child. Rhonda, how many pencils did you say she brought with her this morning?”

  “Thirty-seven,” said Rhonda, with a shake of her head. “We tell her to bring one, and she brings thirty-seven.”

  “How do you know that?” Sticky asked.

  Rhonda shrugged. “She told me so herself. Remember the storm drain? Constance stopped to help me, but instead of trying to get my pencil back, she simply opened her raincoat. She had pockets and pockets full of pencils. ‘Thirty-seven,’ she said. ‘Just help yourself.’”

  “Wasn’t that cheating?” Kate asked. “Why wasn’t she disqualified?”

  “It was certainly taking a risk,” said Mr. Benedict. “However, she refused the test answers Rhonda offered her, and the point of the test wasn’t to see if you would bring only one pencil, you know. The pencil itself is inconsequential.”

  Reynie was curious about something else. “Why was she wearing a raincoat? It was sunny outside today.”

  “You’re an attentive listener,” said Mr. Benedict. “That should serve you well — will serve us all well, I daresay. As for the raincoat, I believe she wore it to conceal the pencils.”

  “But why bring all those pencils?” Kate said, exasperated. “It’s ridiculous!”

  “If that amuses you, Kate,” said Mr. Benedict, “you might also enjoy some of her test answers. Let me see, I believe I have them right here.” He disappeared behind the desk, again followed closely by Rhonda, who stood watchfully as he shuffled among some papers. The children could see just the top of his rumpled head as he searched.

  “Ah, here it is,” he said, stepping back around the desk. As before, Rhonda positioned herself close to his side. He scanned the pages. “Oh, here’s a clever one. Do you remember this question from the first test? It reads, ‘What is wrong with this statement?’ And do you know what Constance wrote in reply? She wrote, ‘What is wrong with you?’” At this, Mr. Benedict burst into laughter — a squeaky, rapid, stuttering expulsion that sounded rather like a dolphin.

  The children’s faces wrinkled in confusion.

  “Here’s another,” said Mr. Benedict. “Remember this one? It shows a picture of a chessboard with only a black pawn out of its original position, and it reads, ‘According to the rules of chess, is this position possible?’ Constance writes in response, ‘Rules and schools are tools for fools — I don’t give two mules for rules!’”

  Again Mr. Benedict laughed his dolphin laugh. This time he couldn’t stop, but laughed louder and louder, until tears entered his eyes. And then without warning, his eyes closed, his chin dropped to his chest, and he fell asleep.

  Rhonda leaped forward to catch his glasses, which had slipped from his nose. Fortunately Mr. Benedict had been leaning against the desk — when he fell asleep, he only slumped forward a bit and didn’t fall to the floor. Even so, Rhonda took him carefully about the waist and said, “Quick, one of you bring me a chair.”

  Kate jumped to her feet and slid her chair over. Rhonda lowered Mr. Benedict into it and eased his head into a comfortable position. His breathing deepened into a gentle snore, as if he’d been asleep for hours.

  Recovering from his surprise, Reynie realized why Rhonda and Number Two stuck so close to Mr. Benedict when he walked around. If he often fell asleep like this, he must risk some nasty falls.

  “Is he all right?” Sticky whispered.

  “Oh, yes, he’s fine,” Rhonda said. “He’ll be awake any moment. He seldom sleeps longer than a minute or two.”

  And indeed, even as she spoke, Mr. Benedict’s eyelids fluttered open, and he rose abruptly from the chair and said, “Ah.” Taking out his pocket watch, he squinted to read it, then touched the bridge of his nose as if searching for something. “I’m afraid I can’t read without my glasses.”

  “Here,” said Rhonda, handing them to him.

  “Thank you.” With his glasses on, Mr. Benedict checked the watch and gave a nod of satisfaction. “Only a few moments, then, that’s good. I would hate to have left you waiting long.” He gave a ferocious yawn and ran his fingers sleepily through his hair, as people often do when they first awake, which likely accounted for its disheveled state.

  “This is another thing I need to explain to you,” said Mr. Benedict. “I have a condition known as narcolepsy. Are you familiar with it?”

  “Sure, it’s a disorder characterized by sudden and uncontrollable attacks of deep sleep,” said Sticky, then ducked his head shyly. “At least, that’s what the dictionary says.”

  “The dictionary is correct. Although the condition takes different forms with different people, in my case an attack is usually triggered by strong emotion. For this reason I wear green plaid suits — I discovered years ago that green plaid has a soothing effect on me — and always try to remain calm. However, every now and then I must allow myself a hearty laugh, don’t you agree? What is life without laughter?”

  The children, uneasy, nodded politely.

  “Now then, where did I leave off? Oh, yes, Constance. I take it you didn’t find her answers as amusing as I do. I’m not sure, however — perhaps you laughed while I was sleeping?” He glanced at them hopefully, but was met with blank faces. “I see. Well, perhaps you’ll find this amusing: Instead of answering the questions on the second test, she composed a long poem about the absurdity of the test and its rules, particularly about the missing fourth step — which apparently reminded her of doughnut holes, because these were the topic of a second poem. She is very irritated, it seems, that every doughnut contains a hole. She feels she is being robbed. I remember a particularly felicitous rhyme between ‘flaky bereft’ and ‘bakery theft.’ Let’s see, where was it? I have it right here. . . .” He began flipping through the test pages.

  “Excuse me,” Sticky said. “Sir? How is it this girl passed the tests if she didn’t answer any of the questions? I mean, if she didn’t even try?”

  “There are tests,” said Mr. Benedict, “and then there are tests.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “It will all come clear presently, Sticky. Ah, here they are at last.”

  The door was opening, and into the room now came Number Two, looking vexed, followed by Milligan, looking gloomy. And with them was Constance Contraire, looking very, very small.

  It took a moment for the children to realize that Constance had arrived with the others. From Milligan’s sad face, their eyes had to travel quite a distance downward before lighting upon the girl’s. She was very little indeed, and very pudgy, too, which made her almost exactly the size and shape of a fire hydrant (a resemblance strengthened by her red raincoat and rosy red cheeks). Reynie’s first impulse was to feel sorry for her — it must be difficult to be so much smaller than other children — but then Constance gave him a cross look, as if she positively disliked him, and Reynie’s sympathy diminished.

  Helping the girl into a chair (it wasn’t a particularly large chair, but she still needed help getting up into it), Number Two said, “Rather than finish the maze, Constance chose a quiet corner and sat down to have a picnic. It took Milligan some time to find her.”

  “I’m not apologizing,” Constance said.

  “Nor were you asked to,” replied Mr. Benedict. “I’m pleased to hear you’ve had supper. Did you enjoy your picnic, then? Have quite enough to eat?”

  “Quite,” said Constance.

  “Very well. Thank you, Milligan.”

  With a nod, the unhappy man pulled his hat down over his eyes and withdrew from the study. Number Two, meanwhile, took up her position next to Mr. Benedict, who, after introducing Constance to the other children (she gave them
all such crabby looks that no one offered to shake her hand), at last began to explain.

  “My young friends,” he said, his face growing solemn, “let me cut to the chase. I wish I could tell you that, having passed these tests, you are now to enter into a pleasant period of education. On the contrary, what I have to tell you is extremely unpleasant, extremely unpleasant indeed.”

  The children frowned in puzzlement. Was he joking? He certainly seemed serious. Perhaps this, too, was a test — a way of gauging their commitment.

  “For years now,” Mr. Benedict went on, “I have conducted these tests in hopes of forming a team of children to help me on an urgent project. You may be aware that some years ago Rhonda took the tests, as did Number Two. In fact a great many children have taken these tests, and yet I have been unable to form a team. Why is this? For one thing, very few children pass. For another, those who have passed have not done so at the same time, and this, you see, is crucial. I do not simply need a team; I need a team of children. Yet children do not remain children for long, and herein has lain the difficulty. Rhonda was a child only a few years ago, and Number Two a few years before that, but as you see they are now quite grown up. They have stayed on with me as assistants — and indeed their prodigious gifts have helped me tremendously — but like myself, they cannot form a part of the team.”

  So far, Mr. Benedict had said nothing that struck Reynie as particularly unpleasant. If anything, he had begun to feel even more proud of himself, and of his new friends, for having done something unusual. It was obvious that Mr. Benedict believed they had what it took to form this special team. But already he sensed that Mr. Benedict did not speak lightly — if he promised something unpleasant, Reynie was sure that something unpleasant would come. Next to him Sticky was squirming uncomfortably, apparently thinking the same thing. And Kate had just glanced in Reynie’s direction, seen the uncertainty in his eye, and nodded her silent agreement: The bad news was coming.

  “I see you are wondering where the unpleasantness comes in,” said Mr. Benedict, “as well you might. Let me tell you, then: The project is dangerous. It is a mission — one that may put your lives at risk.”

  The children all straightened in their chairs.

  “I want to make some things perfectly clear,” said Mr. Benedict. “It is not my wish to put you in harm’s way. Quite the opposite: I despise the notion. Children should spend their time learning and playing in absolute safety — that is my firm belief. Now then, assuming that I am telling the truth, can you guess why I would nonetheless involve you in something dangerous?”

  “Why should we assume that you’re telling the truth?” challenged Constance.

  “For the sake of discussion,” said Mr. Benedict, “let us assume that I am.”

  “If you’re telling the truth,” said Reynie, “then the only reason you would put us in danger is that you believe we’ll fall into greater danger if you don’t.”

  Mr. Benedict tapped his lumpy nose and pointed at Reynie. “Precisely. And I do believe this. I am certain, in fact, that you — and a great many other people — are in danger even as we speak, and that this danger shall only increase.”

  Sticky coughed and mumbled something about needing to use the bathroom.

  Mr. Benedict smiled kindly down at him and said, “Sticky, never fear, you aren’t compelled to join the team. I hope to explain a bit more about it, and then you’ll be given the choice to stay or go. Fair enough?” After a moment’s hesitation, Sticky nodded, and then Mr. Benedict added, “Now, do you truly need to use the bathroom, or can you wait a few minutes longer?”

  Sticky truly did, but he said, “I can wait.”

  “Very well. Now, in the interest of further explanation, I’ll ask you all another question. What is it the four of you have in common? Can you tell me?”

  “We all passed your boring tests,” said Constance.

  “We’re all gifted,” said Kate.

  “We’re all children,” said Sticky.

  Mr. Benedict nodded at each response, then looked at Reynie, who said, “We’re all alone.”

  Mr. Benedict raised his eyebrows. “What makes you think that?”

  “For one thing,” said Reynie, “the newspaper advertisement wasn’t addressed to parents but to children, which makes me think you were looking for kids who might be alone. And then at that first test there were a lot of parents, but later in the Monk Building I saw only a handful of them waiting — and I know at least a few kids showed up all by themselves. And now here we are. I’m an orphan, and Kate’s mother died when she was a baby and then her father left her, and I’m only guessing about Constance, but as for Sticky, well — I’m sorry, Sticky, but I think you’ve been hiding something. I think somehow you’re alone, too.”

  “Before you say anything,” said Mr. Benedict to Sticky, who was staring at Reynie with a shocked expression, “let me tell you this. I have always had a strict policy against taking on runaways. In light of the circumstances, however, I’m willing to make an exception. When it’s time for you to decide about staying or leaving, please keep in mind it won’t be necessary to make up stories. And if you decide to leave, Rhonda and Number Two will offer you assistance. I have no intention of letting you go out into the city again with no money, food, or shelter.”

  By this point Sticky had turned his shocked expression toward Mr. Benedict. He opened his mouth to speak, reconsidered, and finally stared down at his shoes.

  Kate leaned over and put her hand on his shoulder. “A runaway, eh?” she whispered. “You’ve got more gumption than I realized, pal.”

  “All of you have answered correctly,” said Mr. Benedict. “You’re all gifted children who passed my ‘boring’ tests — in one way or another — and you’ve all shown yourselves to be unusually resourceful. For example, I happen to know that Constance has been living secretly in a public library in a city north of Stonetown, and that she managed to catch a bus, and then a subway, and finally a taxi to come here. And I know that Kate stole aboard a boxcar in Chicago, while Sticky stowed away on a river barge. You’ve all shown ingenuity in one form or another — and yes, in one form or another, you’re all alone.”

  Again he paused, gazing at the children now with what appeared to be a mixture of great pride and great sympathy. Indeed, tears had welled up in his eyes, and the sincerity in his expression made Reynie — who was used to ignoring his loneliness — grow almost heartsick. He felt a keen desire to see Miss Perumal again. Had it only been this morning that she’d surprised him by crying when they parted? It already seemed so long ago.

  “Oh dear,” cried Rhonda just then, for Mr. Benedict, awash in strong emotion, had gone to sleep. With a sudden loud snore he toppled forward into the attentive arms of Rhonda and Number Two, who eased him to the floor.

  “What’s with him?” Constance asked.

  “He has narcolepsy,” said Kate.

  “He steals a lot?”

  “That’s kleptomania,” Sticky said. “Mr. Benedict sleeps a lot.”

  “Well, I don’t like it,” Constance said crossly.

  “I assure you, Constance,” said Number Two, looking vexed, “Mr. Benedict doesn’t like it, either. None of us does. It simply can’t be helped.”

  Before any more could be said, Mr. Benedict opened his eyes, blinked a few times, and ran his fingers through his tousled white hair. Rhonda said gently, “Only a minute, Mr. Benedict. You were only out for a minute.”

  “Is that so? Very good, then, very good. Thank you, my friends, thank you as always.” He patted Rhonda and Number Two on the arms, and they helped him to his feet.

  “Usually happens when I’m laughing,” he explained to the children, “but these days it’s often something else. Now then, what was I —? Oh, yes. All alone. Let me tell you why that part matters. For one thing, children without guardians happen to be in a peculiar kind of danger that other children are not — this I shall explain later, to those of you who join my team. For another, i
t would be simply impossible for me to put at risk any child who wasn’t alone. No matter how important the cause, parents are disinclined to send their children into danger, as well they should be. As it so happens, however, I now find myself in the presence of the best possible team of children I could ever hope for — indeed, have long hoped for — and with not a minute to lose. In other words, you are our last possible hope. You are our only hope.”

  The Sender and the Messages

  In the end, every child agreed to join the team, though the decision was more difficult for some than others. Kate took out a stick of gum and said, “I’m in,” without even pausing to consider. Reynie, less fearless than Kate, had to give the matter some thought. If he didn’t join the team, what would he do? Return to the orphanage? Seeing Miss Perumal again would be nice, but he would be in the same pickle as before: out of place among the other children, purposeless and lonely. Moreover, if Mr. Benedict was to be trusted (and for some reason Reynie did trust him) then feeling purposeless and lonely were the least of his problems. Something terrible was happening, and Mr. Benedict needed them to stop it. A strange sense of duty, not to mention a powerful curiosity, compelled him to join.

  Constance was more skeptical. It was becoming clear that this was her natural approach to things. “So if I stick around, and you tell me this big secret, what’s to stop me from going out and telling everyone?”

  “Nothing will stop you,” said Mr. Benedict. “You’re free to leave at any time. However, if I hadn’t determined I could trust you, you would never have been invited into this room. And for that matter, even if you were to tell, no one would believe you, for you are only a child. Is that not why you came to take these tests in the first place?”

  Constance’s face screwed up as if she might burst into tears — or, more likely, throw a screaming fit.

  “I don’t mean to attack you, child,” Mr. Benedict said gently. “Let us strike a bargain. If you join the team, this shall be our understanding: You will follow my instructions, but only because you have agreed to do so, not because I told you to. No one is making you do anything. It is all of your own free will.”