“Obviously,” said Constance in a mocking tone.
Sticky twitched but made no response to this. “There are no entries after the birth,” he said, “which explains why the museum didn’t know about a twin. Only Mr. Benedict was contacted about these papers, though obviously Mr. Curtain has found out about them.” (He stiffened, anticipating another mocking remark, but this time Constance refrained.) “Those Ten Men may not have gotten their hands on the journal, but somehow Mr. Curtain knows what Mr. Benedict discovered in it, which is that their parents may have found a cure for narcolepsy —”
“Really?” cried Reynie and Kate together.
“It’s possible,” Sticky said, “but not certain. There’s a rare plant —”
“A rare plant!” Kate exclaimed.
“You mean like the ‘rare plant’ Mr. Curtain mentioned in his letter?” asked Constance.
Sticky pressed his lips together tightly. It is difficult to explain anything when one is constantly interrupted, and yet Sticky felt he couldn’t say so without being accused of haughtiness.
Reynie came to his rescue. “Sorry, we need to let you finish, don’t we? Go ahead, Sticky.” The girls, following Reynie’s lead, assumed attentive expressions.
“Okay,” Sticky said. “Let me back up a little. Apparently Mr. Benedict’s parents had narcolepsy. Not just one of them. Both of them.” Sticky turned to a passage in the journal. “Anki writes here that despite having grown up feeling cursed, she and her husband now feel blessed, because it was their shared condition — and their scientific interest in it — that led them to meet.
“She goes on quite a bit about how well they work together, with each of them always on the alert for the other, since they rarely fall asleep at the same moment. And I have to say, they were both pretty amazingly brilliant. They were planning several impressive research projects — all they lacked was the money to get started — and they’d already published a few papers on narcolepsy. But those papers had nothing to do with this rare plant. The plant doesn’t enter the picture until near the end of the journal — near the end of their lives, I suppose — when they received this letter.”
Handling them with care, Sticky set aside three sheets of paper from the bundle (the last of which, Reynie had already noticed, had a rectangular space cut out of its middle). “This letter is from their scientist friend, Han de Reizeger. He wrote to tell them that he’d found living specimens of
Sticky hesitated. “I . . . I can tell you a little bit about that plant, if you’re interested. I mean I’ve read about it before.”
“Of course we’re interested, you lunkhead!” Kate said, laughing. “Are you kidding? That plant’s the key to this whole business!”
“Well, it’s just that sometimes . . .” Sticky shrugged. “All right. Ahem. Duskwort appears in a few ancient texts, but only a few. It was supposed to be extremely powerful — the slightest taste of it could put people to sleep — and was often considered the stuff of legend. There’s an old Norse tale about a party of Vikings storming into a village on a foggy afternoon, only to discover every single inhabitant asleep. Not in their beds, either, but on the ground, against walls, slumped over worktables — everywhere.
“The Vikings were so unnerved that they didn’t touch anything. They just walked through the village, staring at all the sleepers. On the far side of the village they found a boy lying next to a smoldering cookfire, clutching a tiny fragment of duskwort. Evidently he’d thrown some into the coals, and the smoke it produced had put everyone in the village to sleep, even though it must have been only the faintest wisp of smoke. Can you imagine?”
“Holy smokes!” Kate said, glancing around to see if the others caught her little joke. They didn’t, though, and she had to admit it wasn’t worth repeating, so she only added, “That’s some powerful plant.”
“Powerful but fragile,” Sticky said. “Duskwort only grows in certain unique conditions, and if it’s removed from its native environment, it disintegrates. I know this from the journal. The Benedicts had found some specimens the year before — Anki doesn’t say where — and taken one back to their lab to study. It quickly turned to dust, but not before they felt pretty confident it could cure narcolepsy, or at least eliminate the worst symptoms. The duskwort would just need to be mixed with certain other chemicals — common chemicals any scientist could easily obtain.”
“And they knew where to find more of it,” Reynie said. “But they never created the cure. So what went wrong?”
“Unfortunately they were in for a disappointing shock,” said Sticky. “They went back and retrieved another specimen, only to discover that this second plant wasn’t duskwort at all — it was just a clever mimic. It looked exactly like duskwort and lived in exactly the same conditions, but its most important chemical properties were different. In other words, it was useless. Worse than useless, actually, because it was much hardier and more aggressive, which explained why duskwort was so rare — if it even existed anymore, now that they’d accidentally destroyed the only known specimen. They believed this mimic plant — Anki calls it ‘thwart-wort’ in the journal — took over the duskwort’s habitat, killing off all the duskwort in the process. The Benedicts went back and scoured the place where they’d found the duskwort, but no luck. Nothing but thwart-wort.”
“So how could they be sure their friend — this Han guy — had found
“The Benedicts had shown him their research,” Sticky said. “So Han knew what to look for. He used a microscope to study the plants right where he found them. He expected it all to be thwart-wort, and some of it was, but mostly it was duskwort. Lots and lots of duskwort, in fact.”
Reynie wrinkled his brow. Something had been bothering him during Sticky’s account, but he hadn’t been able to lay his finger on it until just now. If the Benedicts had truly found duskwort, wouldn’t it have been the scientific discovery of the century? Why, then, hadn’t they published papers about it? Why hadn’t they even announced it to the press?
“So what does duskwort look like, anyway?” Kate asked.
“I don’t know,” Sticky said.
Constance gave an incredulous laugh. “You don’t know? But I thought you knew everything! I find that awfully hard to believe, George Washington!”
“I don’t care what you
