“I wish he knew when we’re supposed to meet this Mr. Benedict,” Kate said. “It’s been an awfully long day, and I’d like to learn what this is all about.”
“As for that,” said the pencil woman, “the reason I came in was to tell you that Mr. Benedict is ready to see you. He’s waiting in his study.”
“What about the other one?” asked Rhonda Kazembe.
“Apparently there’s been some delay. Mr. Benedict said he will meet with these children now, and she can join them when she arrives.”
The children wanted to know who this other girl was, but there was no time for questions, for Rhonda and the pencil woman ushered them out of the room and down a long hallway into the study of Mr. Benedict.
Like every other room in the old house, Mr. Benedict’s study was crammed with books. Books on shelves that rose to the high ceiling, books in stacks on the floor, books holding up a potted violet in desperate need of water. On four chairs arranged before an oak desk rested still more books — which Rhonda and the pencil woman removed so the children could sit — and on the desk itself, piled in precarious, leaning towers, were even more. The children took their seats and looked about the study. Except for the books, the furniture, and the violet, it appeared to be empty.
“I thought you said he was waiting for us,” Kate said.
“And indeed I have been,” said a voice, and out from behind the desk where he’d been sitting, hidden by the piles of books, appeared a bespectacled, green-eyed man in a green plaid suit. His thick white hair was shaggy and mussed, his nose was rather large and lumpy like a vegetable, and although it was clear he had recently shaved, he appeared to have done so without benefit of a mirror, for here and there upon his neck and chin were nicks from a razor, and occasional white whiskers that he’d missed altogether. This was Mr. Benedict.
With a friendly smile, Mr. Benedict stepped round to introduce himself to the children, shaking hands and calling each by name. As he did so, Rhonda Kazembe and the pencil woman followed him, standing on either side as he moved from child to child. When he stepped back to lean against his desk, the two women again followed him and stood closely on either side, watching him with alert expressions, as if worried what he might do. It was very curious, and more than a little unsettling.
“First, children, I wish to congratulate you,” said Mr. Benedict. “You have all done exceedingly well today. There is much to explain, of course, but I’m afraid the explanations must wait a bit longer, until we are joined by another.” He took out a pocket watch, checked the time, and sighed. To the pencil woman he said, “Number Two, any word from Milligan about our missing young friend?”
“Not yet,” said the pencil woman. “But he said it should be soon.”
“Would you please go meet them? I want to be sure she’s had a bite to eat.”
The pencil woman gave him a doubtful look.
“I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “Rhonda is right here.”
With an uncertain nod, the pencil woman took her leave.
“Did you just call her Number Two?” asked Kate.
“She prefers we use her code name,” explained Rhonda. “She’s shy about her real name. For no good reason, if you ask me. It’s a perfectly fine name.”
“For good reasons or not, we all have things we’re shy about,” said Mr. Benedict with a significant look at Sticky, who immediately took to polishing his glasses.
Kate and Reynie glanced at each other wonderingly.
“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
“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
