The Mysterious Benedict Society

Sticky looked at her. He wanted to be irritated, but found that he was so relieved to be alive he could only smile.

“In fact it appears to be carnivorous,” Kate said.

Before long they were all chuckling. The danger was past, and somehow the excitement had helped them shed a little of their anxiety. Glancing at one another with satisfied smiles (as if to say, “We did it, didn’t we? Together we did it!”) they rose and dusted themselves off. They gathered near the hole in the drapeweed — though not too near — and tried to peer in. All they could see was darkness and trailing tendrils, and even these were slowly being covered up. The flexible stems and shoots thrust aside by Sticky’s fall were stiffening and spreading back into place. Like a footprint in springy grass, the hole would soon disappear entirely.

Kate crawled to the edge of the hole, pushed aside some tendrils and shone her flashlight down into the darkness. “It’s a pit. Twenty feet deep.” She glanced back at Sticky. “Deep enough to break your legs.”

Sticky wiped his forehead. “Thanks for the grab, Kate. I do like my legs.”

“I would thank you, too,” said Constance, “except I wouldn’t have fallen into the hole if you hadn’t dived, so my thank you and your apology cancel out.”

Kate laughed. “Whatever, Constance. As long as I don’t have to apologize, I suppose.”

The children stood by the drapeweed for some time, pondering their discovery. No one could think of any good reason for it to be there. Why had someone gone to the trouble of covering that dangerous hole?

“There’s only one answer I can think of,” Reynie said at last.

“A trap?” Kate said.

Reynie nodded.

“Oh, goody,” Constance said. “Now there’re traps, too.”

“But why is it here?” Sticky wondered. “What is it for?”

Kate snorted. “Really, Sticky, you amaze me! A trap is for catching things — or people.”

Sticky didn’t answer. He was tip-toeing back to the path, careful of every step.

The children made it to their rooms almost exactly when the Executives were supposed to come for them. It was probably a bad idea to keep Executives waiting, Sticky had said. But it was they, not the Executives, who waited. When half an hour had passed with no sign of Jillson, Constance suddenly sang out:

“Now we have waited for thirty consecutive

Minutes to see some old dirty Executive.

Thirty long minutes I could have been sleeping.

But she doesn’t find her appointments worth keeping.”

Kate was startled. “What are you, a cuckoo-clock poet? Cut it out, she might be right outside the door!”

Jillson was, in fact, right outside the door, but to Kate’s relief she entered with no more than her previous bossiness — no hint of indignation. The walls and doors must be very solid, Kate reflected; it would be difficult to eavesdrop through them. This would be to the children’s advantage when they had secret discussions, but it would also make spying on others more difficult — a fact that irritated Kate, though not nearly as much as when Jillson said, “Hurry up now, squirts. I can’t wait on you all day.”

Kate bit her tongue. “We’re ready.”

“You’d better be,” said Jillson. Then her face clouded. “Hey, why isn’t your television on? Is it broken?”

“We, uh, we just turned it off, just now,” Kate lied.

“Why would you do that?”

Kate blinked. “Because we were leaving the room?”

“Oh,” Jillson said again, considering. Finally she grunted. “Well. Whatever floats your boat.”

They joined Jackson and the boys in the corridor. The Executives had a sheet of paper with them now that listed the children’s names, and after checking to be sure each child was accounted for (they still didn’t bother with handshakes), they began the Institute tour. After a quick pass through the dormitory — nothing but student quarters and bathrooms — they walked outside, where Jillson told them they were free to roam anywhere they wished, so long as they kept to the paths. “Too dangerous off the paths,” she said. “The island’s covered with abandoned mine shafts.”

The children exchanged glances.

“They’re from the early days, when Mr. Curtain built the Institute,” Jillson explained. “Before Mr. Curtain bought the island, people said there was nothing here but rocks. What they didn’t know was what kind of rocks. Turns out the whole island was rich in precious minerals. Mr. Curtain knew this. He built the bridge, brought in mining equipment and workers — a whole colony of workers. Their dormitory was the first building constructed. It’s now the student dormitory.” Like a proper tour guide, Jillson pointed to the student dormitory right in front of them, even though they knew what it was.

Dutifully the children looked and nodded.

“Mr. Curtain became one of the richest men in the world,” Jillson went on with a proud smile. “And can you guess how he used his wealth?”

“Doubtful,” Jackson murmured.

“He built the Institute?” Reynie offered.

Jackson looked surprised.

“Exactly,” said Jillson. “A free school, as you know. Doesn’t cost a dime to come here. All thanks to Mr. Curtain’s generosity. He asks nothing in return, mind you — not even attention. Mr. Curtain is every bit as reclusive