The Mysterious Benedict Society

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