“That part was secret,” said Miss Perumal. “Mr. Benedict thought you might be nosy enough to glean the details ahead of time, which would defeat the purpose of the exercise, so he provided very few. We knew that you’d eventually meet up with him and Number Two, and that along the way Rhonda would make sure you called home every day — but more than that he didn’t reveal. Perhaps Rhonda can tell us more.”
“I wish I could,” said Rhonda, who was at the door again checking for eavesdroppers, “but Mr. Benedict was mum on almost everything. I think he relished the idea of surprising me, as well. He wouldn’t even tell me what his research was about, though I sensed he was eager to pursue it.” With a last look down the hallway, she pulled the door closed again.
“Why are you being so careful, Rhonda?” asked Kate. “Don’t those people want to help Mr. Benedict, too?”
“Some of them, yes,” said Rhonda. Her face hardened. “Some of them, perhaps not. There’s a lot of resentment of the fact that Mr. Benedict is the only who can operate the Whisperer. It’s Mr. Benedict who calls the shots, and he’s stubbornly resisted certain people’s suggestions that the government use it for other purposes. Those people might be very pleased if he went away for good. As for the others . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t trust them not to attempt some kind of rescue operation and bungle it terribly. It would be the worst thing they could do. All of them together aren’t half as smart as Curtain.”
“What do you think we should do?” Sticky asked.
“We need to speak privately with Milligan. I haven’t been able to get in touch with him, but he should be here soon — he’s already late, in fact. It’s possible Mr. Benedict gave him more details about the trip. He did want to be sure it went well for you. Oh, if you could have seen Mr. Benedict’s face the morning they left! He was so pleased to be giving you this surprise!”
Just then the door flew open with a bang. Everyone jumped and stared. Oddly, though, there seemed to be no one in the doorway. Reynie’s first thought was that an unusually strong draft had blown the door open — it was a drafty old house — but then he thought to lower his gaze, and in doing so was rewarded with the sight of Constance Contraire’s scowling face.
“You’re meeting without me?” she demanded. “Why wasn’t I told?”
“Come in, Constance,” Rhonda said in a weary voice. “You asked to be left alone, remember? I was just catching everyone up. They’ve only been here a few minutes.”
This explanation clearly did not satisfy Constance, but she had no opportunity to express her dissatisfaction, for she was immediately swept into the air by Kate, who hugged her so tightly she was unable to speak.
“It’s good to see you, Constance,” Kate said sadly, “even though it’s under such awful circumstances.”
Constance’s pale blue eyes glistened, her pudgy cheeks reddened, and her feet dangled helplessly around Kate’s knees. (She might be of extraordinary intellect for her age — she was only three — but she was of ordinary size, and Kate quite towered over her.) When at last Kate set her down again, Constance had no chance to recover before Reynie and Sticky embraced her as well, quickly followed by the adults. By the time everyone had greeted her, Constance’s wispy blond hair had come free of its barrettes and fallen about her face, and she wore a wildly disoriented look, as if she were an oversized rag doll that had been magically brought to life.
“Oh,” Constance said confusedly. “Okay, then. Hello.”
Ms. Argent, meanwhile, had appeared in the dining room doorway and stood waiting for the fuss to die down. “Ms. Kazembe,” she said, “we’d like to ask you a few more questions, please.”
“Very well, I’ll be right there,” Rhonda said.
Ms. Argent seemed disinclined to leave, but when she realized that everyone in the room was staring at her impatiently, she turned slightly pink and made a hasty exit.
Rhonda made sure Ms. Argent was out of earshot, then stepped to a side table, opened a drawer, and took out a sealed envelope. She looked solemnly at the children. “I was to give you this,” she said. “It contains Mr. Benedict’s instructions for beginning your adventure. I haven’t seen what’s inside it yet — I didn’t want Ms. Argent’s crew to know about it, and there hasn’t been the least opportunity to read in private — and now that you’re all here it seems proper that the four of you should see it first. Mr. Benedict wanted you to, after all. I’d better go see if I can deduce what these people are planning, but we’ll discuss this as soon as I return.
“Now, before I hand it over,” Rhonda said, lifting the envelope away from Constance, who had stepped forward to grab it, “you must promise that if the instructions offer any hint as to Mr. Benedict and Number Two’s whereabouts, you’ll mention it to no one but Milligan or me. It wouldn’t surprise me if Ms. Argent or one of the others tried to catch you alone, and we must be very careful.” When the children had promised, Rhonda let Constance take the envelope.
“I’m so sorry, everyone,” she said, looking sorrowfully first at the children and then at the other adults. “Please make yourself as comfortable as you can. Help yourselves to anything in the kitchen — but remember, don’t speak to a soul unless I’m present. I have to do everything I can to manage this situation.” Rhonda was fighting back tears again. “I have to get them home safely. I
Miss Perumal walked her to the door. “It’s what we all want, Rhonda. Now, don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine.”
“And discreet,” Mrs. Washington added.
No sooner had Rhonda left than the children turned with anxious, pleading faces to the adults, who could hardly refuse them.
“Go,” Miss Perumal said, waving them toward the door. “But stay in the house, and remember what Rhonda told you.”
“And come back soon to eat,” Mrs. Washington said. “It will be a long day, and you’ll need your strength.”
“Those poor children,” said Miss Perumal’s mother. She meant to say it under her breath, but her voice carried after the children as they hurried from the room. “Oh, the poor, poor dears!”
The children sat in a circle on the floor of Constance Contraire’s bedroom. Around them were the piles of Constance’s laundry — some dirty and some clean — that they had shoved aside to make room for themselves. Clothes hung on the back of Constance’s miniature desk chair, too, and blankets and towels were draped haphazardly across her unmade bed. Given the state of her room, it would be no surprise to find her chest of drawers utterly empty; and under different circumstances one of the children would have made a point of checking, just to see. But right now, no one was in the mood to tease Constance about her disorderliness or anything
