“We need to get out of here fast,” Sticky said.
“Lower your voice or we won’t get anywhere at all,” said Kate, squeezing through them to peek out the door. “You too, Reynie. Try not to breathe so loudly — you sound like a whale spouting. Okay, coast is clear.”
The children quickly made their way through the maze. The route was second-nature to them now, and in no time they arrived at the front door, where everyone looked at Reynie. He took a deep breath, steadied himself, and threw the hidden switch that unlocked the door.
Mr. Bane sat on a bench beneath the elm tree, keeping a watchful eye on the gate. His face tightened at the sight of the children. Before he could ask their business, Reynie blurted, “Mr. Bane, you need to escort us to the Washingtons’ car. We’re supposed to bring in some packages.” He pointed down the block. “It’s just around the corner.”
Mr. Bane gave him a dark look. “For one thing, sonny, I don’t like to be told what to do, especially not by the adolescent darlings of Rhonda Kazembe. For another, I’m on duty. Or don’t you want the entrance guarded?”
“It’ll only take a few minutes!” Reynie said, plainly irritated. He went down the steps with the others just behind him.
Mr. Bane rose to head them off. “Apparently you don’t understand what’s meant by ‘duty.’ I’m
The others stared at Reynie. Was this his plan? To outrage Mr. Bane? Weren’t they trying to
“Well . . .” Reynie hesitated as if considering something. “You will let us back in, though, won’t you? We have permission to be here, you know.”
Mr. Bane’s expression changed. The change was subtle, but it was exactly what Reynie had hoped to see — a shift from defiance to craftiness. Moving to open the gate, Mr. Bane said, “I suppose you kids think you can do whatever you want. You don’t think you even have to say please.” With a mocking bow, he stepped aside, and the children hurried out. Mr. Bane closed the gate behind them with a disagreeable smile.
“We’ll need your help taking the packages upstairs,” Reynie called as they walked away down the sidewalk. “They’re very heavy.”
“I’ll be here,” Mr. Bane called back, then muttered something the children couldn’t hear.
“Well, that was clever, Reynie,” said Kate in a low voice. “I had no idea what you were up to.”
She knelt and held her hand out to Constance, who climbed onto her back (it was their habit for Constance to ride piggyback when they were in a hurry) saying, “Did you see the look on his face? He obviously can’t
“And then watch us struggle up the steps with the packages,” said Sticky. “Well done, Reynie.”
Reynie said nothing. He was relieved the ploy had worked, but it wasn’t exactly satisfying to have taken advantage of Mr. Bane’s unpleasantness. The man was supposed to be on their side, after all. His behavior didn’t improve Reynie’s opinion of people very much.
“I hope Madge will be all right,” Kate said, hitching Constance into a more comfortable position on her back. “I didn’t see her in the eaves. She’s off hunting pigeons, I suppose.”
“We need to get out of sight,” said Sticky, who was anxious about being caught and felt rather like a hunted pigeon himself. “Does anyone have enough for a taxi?”
No one did. Even pooling their money together produced only a few dollars and some change. That was enough to get them on a city bus, however, and they set out at a rapid clip for the nearest bus stop. Halfway there Constance uttered a cry of dismay. She’d forgotten the journal Mr. Benedict gave them.
“Great,” Sticky muttered. “This hardly makes for an auspicious beginning.”
“What does ‘auspicious’ mean?” asked Constance. She looked ready to be furious.
“Never mind,” said Kate. “It’s probably good you left it. One less thing to carry, you know.”
“But I wanted us to write in it like Mr. Benedict said,” Constance whined. “You know, as we traveled.”
“We’ll write about everything when we get back,” said Reynie. “Right, everyone? We’ll all promise to write something about . . . well, about whatever’s going to happen.”
Sticky and Kate promised they would. Constance wasn’t much comforted, but there was no going back now. The children hurried on to the bus stop and boarded the first bus that came, even though its route didn’t pass as close to the harbor as they would have hoped. They couldn’t risk waiting for a different one.
They rode for some time in silence, watching the more familiar streets and buildings pass behind them as the bus traveled into a different part of Stonetown. Kate was perhaps the only one who didn’t half wish they hadn’t gotten away, but even she was subdued. The children were alone and penniless now in a big city. And if everything went as expected, they would soon find themselves — still alone and penniless — in the even bigger world beyond.
Bulhrogs, Pirates, and Technical Difficulties
If the city of Stonetown was a busy place, its port — Stonetown Harbor — was positively frantic. The harbor, in fact, seemed like a city unto itself. The concrete and steel docks stretched endlessly along the water’s edge, bristling with cranes and towering stacks of cargo, and teeming with stevedores and sailors, all of whom dashed about in a mad hurry. Looming over the docks were the ships themselves, their sides rising up like gleaming, metallic cliffs. Some were being loaded or unloaded; others had weighed anchor and were heaving off into the bay, looking for all the world as if a chunk of the city had broken free and was drifting away. The entire place clamored with the sounds of bells, horns, machinery, whistles — of clanking and screeching and booming and grinding — a shocking bombardment of noise that all but muted the cries of seagulls dipping and soaring overhead.
The children, standing outside the harbor’s main security gate, stared wide-eyed.
“I’m not going in there,” said Constance, backing away.
