felt keenly what it meant to be children in a world of grown-ups. Without a word, the three of them climbed onto the bed and sat with Constance. It might not have been her style to say so, but Constance loved Mr. Benedict more than anyone in the world, and they all knew it.
They sat a while in silence. It wasn’t long, however, until Constance made a whining sound and climbed down from her bed. She could never stand to be the object of others’ pity unless she had purposely aimed for that effect, and this time she hadn’t. Moreover, her irritation crowded out her self-pity, which came as a relief. So it was in a slightly stur-dier mood that she uncovered the journal Mr. Benedict had left them (she’d hidden it under a pile of clothes) and stared at it intently, as if hoping it would reveal its secret of its own accord.
“Somehow it seems like I should know what that shortcut is,” Constance said. “I have a nagging feeling about it, like it should be familiar. But I can’t place it.”
“I’ve had the same feeling,” Reynie said.
“Hey, so have I!” said Kate. “What about you, Sticky?”
Sticky shrugged. “I’m always having nagging feelings. The trouble is knowing which one to pay attention to.”
“Well, one thing’s for sure,” Kate said. “If Mr. Benedict had mentioned some kind of shortcut before, you boys would remember the conversation. I think even I would remember it. So why does this mention of a shortcut seem so familiar to all of us?”
“We must all have heard about it somewhere,” Reynie said, “or else . . . Do you suppose it could have been in the newspaper?”
“Hey, that would make sense!” said Kate. “Mr. Benedict knows we all read the newspaper every day.”
Reynie rubbed his chin. “So the question is what —”
But Sticky, having already consulted his memory, interrupted him excitedly. “It’s that cargo ship — the MV
“Remind us,” said Constance.
“Here, I’ll quote one of the articles I read,” said Sticky, and in a rather self-important tone he recited: “‘Tomorrow the speediest cargo ship in history will make its maiden voyage, launching from Stonetown Harbor at four o’clock — ’”
“Four o’clock!” Kate cried. “We have to get down there!”
“We still have a few hours,” said Sticky, who felt hurt at having been so quickly interrupted, to say nothing of how nervous he felt at the thought of leaving.
“It will take a while to reach the docks, though,” Reynie said. “And first we have to sneak out of the house.”
“That part’s easy enough,” said Kate, pulling out her rope. “There’s a hidden laundry chute down the hall that empties behind the maze.”
“How do you know that?” Sticky asked. “I mean, if it’s hidden —”
“Found it on our last visit. When you were looking at bookshelves, I was exploring. The chute hasn’t been sealed off or anything, has it, Constance?”
“How should I know? I didn’t even know about it,” said Constance. She gestured at the laundry piles around them. “Normally this just builds up until Number Two hauls it away in a basket. She says she hates to spoil me, but she can’t stand the mess. I call it her laundry quandary.”
“That must annoy her to no end,” Sticky said.
“Oh, it does!” said Constance, and she smiled a little, cheered by the memory.
Kate was taken aback. “You mean you live in this house and don’t even —?” She shook her head. “You amaze me, Constance. Anyway, I can lower you all down the chute with my rope, and then I’ll come down after you.”
“The police have gone,” said Reynie, peering out the window into the courtyard, “but Mr. Bane’s still guarding the gate. I’ll bet he has orders not to let anyone come or go without permission.”
“Now that’s a problem,” said Kate. “If he tries to stop us it’ll draw attention to what we’re doing.”
“I’ll think of something,” said Reynie. “Meanwhile, could you sneak down and get different shirts for Sticky and me? Mine’s giving me a rash.”
Kate balked at this. “I doubt any shirts in this house would fit you. Don’t you think you should just —?”
“My dad brought in the suitcases,” Sticky said. He gave her a suspicious look. “Didn’t you see them by the stairs? We walked right past them.”
“Oh, right, the suitcases,” said Kate, sighing on her way out. She’d rather enjoyed seeing the boys look so silly and hated them to change.
By the time she returned with the shirts, Reynie had cleared off Constance’s desk and was hurriedly writing a note to explain everything and to apologize for causing the grown-ups any worry. They would be extremely careful, he wrote, and would contact Rhonda and Milligan as soon as they found anything useful. They all signed their names at the bottom (Constance’s signature was a wild scrawl) and afterward gazed somberly at one another, for signing the note had brought home the seriousness of what they were about to attempt. Then, one by one, they nodded resolutely and headed out.
When Kate came down the chute, she found Constance and Reynie cramped between the washing machine and the door, and Sticky, for lack of room, sitting on the clothes dryer. The laundry area, crowded into a space beneath the stairwell at the back of the maze, was more of a closet than a room.
“What took you so long?” Sticky whispered.
“Rhonda came looking for us,” Kate said. “I heard her knocking on Constance’s door, so I hurried back before she could go inside and find our note. I told her we’d be down in a minute. Which technically is true. I didn’t say down
