The Mysterious Benedict Society

“There’s no help for it. Now grab onto my jacket, Sticky, and you others grab onto him. Whatever you do, stay with me. And Kate, turn off your flashlight. It will only help them find you.”

“Them?”

“Yes,” Milligan said. “They’ve come for you. Now don’t speak.”

None of the children spoke (though two of them gulped), and down into the maze they went. The lights were out here too — they no longer came on when you entered a room. It was perfectly black, and in this perfect blackness they moved, stalking from room to room, until Milligan suddenly froze. The children caught their breath. At first Reynie saw nothing. Then, looking behind him, he glimpsed two flashlight beams passing through one of the other rooms. He squeezed Sticky’s arm. Sticky squeezed back even harder.

From the direction of the flashlights came a sudden cry of pain — it was Constance’s voice — followed by a thudding sound, as of someone falling to the floor. A man’s voice hissed, “I have her!”

“Come,” Milligan whispered, hurrying toward the lights. The children followed, holding fast to one another. It was awkward walking so quickly together in the dark, and though Kate moved with the grace of a cat, the boys stumbled trying to keep up. Perhaps they slowed Milligan’s progress too much, for when they entered the room a few moments later, the flashlights were gone. The room lay black and still. It seemed quite empty except for a sharp, spicy fragrance that lingered in the air.

“I smell your cologne,” Milligan said, speaking into the darkness.

“I hope you like it,” said a man’s voice. The flashlights snapped on behind them, casting their shadows onto the wall. “Now, please turn around. Turn around very slowly. Let’s all stay nice and calm.”

Milligan started to turn, but the terrified children, realizing they’d been tricked and not wanting to believe it, clutched at one another and did not move.

“That’s a little too slow,” said the voice. “Come on now. Let’s have a look at you. Don’t worry, we won’t shine the lights in your eyes. I know that’s uncomfortable.”

Milligan pressed the children’s shoulders and slowly turned them toward the voice. The man had spoken the truth — the flashlights were pointed downward — and in the glow cast by their beams Reynie could just make out who carried them. He didn’t know what he had expected to see, but it wasn’t this: two handsome men, one of them impressively tall, staring back at him with pleasant, welcoming expressions. The men wore tailored suits and large, expensive-looking silver watches, and over their suits they wore fine long raincoats that dripped water onto the floor. Both smiled in an unexpectedly friendly way. In fact, their bright smiles — along with their elegant appearance — were for an instant so surprising and disarming that Reynie almost relaxed. Almost. But then his eyes fell on a lumpy canvas bag in the shadows behind them. Out of the bag poked one of Constance’s tiny feet.

“Did you really think we couldn’t hear you coming?” asked the tall man. He spoke cheerfully, as if he and the children were sharing a joke. “Why, you’re a herd of buffalo! Now raise your hands above your heads, please.”

Reynie was frightened, but he couldn’t see why they should obey. The men seemed to carry no weapons. But Milligan did as the man said — obviously he knew something Reynie didn’t — and so with hearts galloping, Reynie and Kate let go of each other and raised their hands, too. Sticky, however, had grown confused in his fright and would not let go of Milligan’s jacket.

“Please tell the bald boy to raise his hands,” insisted the tall man.

“It’s all right, Sticky,” said Milligan. “Do as he says, child. Come now, let go.”

At last Sticky managed to release his grip. The moment he did so — and to the great surprise of everyone present — Milligan leaped toward an open doorway and vanished from the room. He had moved so quickly, and so unexpectedly, that no one had a moment to react before he was gone. The men looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Reynie felt his mouth go dry. Sticky let out a whimper.

“Some protector!” laughed the shorter man. “I must say, he did a fine job protecting himself. I’ve never seen anyone move so fast.”

The tall man chuckled. “Did he seem familiar to you at all?”

“Now that you mention it, he did,” said the other, scratching his head. “Though I can’t place how. Anyway, let’s get this over with.”

“What are you going to do with us?” Kate demanded. Though her legs trembled, her voice was defiant.

The tall man tucked his flashlight under his arm and held out both hands, palms forward, in what was meant to be a comforting gesture. “Now just stay calm,” he soothed. Meanwhile the shorter man was doing exactly the same thing — tucking away his flashlight and holding out his hands. It was then that Reynie noticed that the men’s huge silver watches were identical, and that for some reason they each wore two — one watch on each wrist.

“If you children stay nice and still,” said the tall man, flashing a sympathetic smile, “I promise this won’t hurt a bit.”

“Oh, come on, let’s tell the truth for once,” said the other. “Just for kicks.”

The tall man rolled his eyes. “All right, the truth is that this will hurt. A lot. But if you hold still,” he said, shaking his arms to clear the watches from his suit cuffs, “I promise it won’t hurt long.”

Reynie felt Kate and Sticky stiffen beside him. They didn’t know what was coming, but they knew it was going to be awful. The men started laughing again. Reynie heard an electrical hum. . . .

Abruptly, the laughter ceased. It was interrupted by two odd whistling sounds — swit, swit — upon which the tall man closed his eyes, dropped his flashlight with a clatter, and sank to the floor. The other did exactly the same, slumping unconscious on top of his partner. The flashlights, rolling free, sent their bright beams willy-nilly about the room.

One of the beams settled on the doorway behind the fallen men, where Milligan now stood holding a tranquilizer gun. He stepped over to pluck two tiny feathered darts from the men’s shoulders, saying as he did so, “Remember, children. For every exit, there is also an entrance.”

The dining room seemed an altogether different place now. The rain had let up, the drafts were gone, and