The Mysterious Benedict Society and the Perilous Journey

hurry to give chase, but he did start moving in Reynie’s direction. Reynie didn’t look back at him again. He ran straight toward the Salamander, which was parked far down the path on the other side of the village well. Its driver, the Ten Man at the wheel, saw him coming and moved to get out. With one leg over the side, however, he hesitated, evidently debating whether to bother jumping down when it was easier to stay put and let the others handle Reynie.

Jump down, Reynie thought. Jump down and give Kate a chance.

The Ten Man frowned appraisingly at Reynie, unable to make up his mind.

Kate made it up for him. Streaking out of the shadows beyond the Salamander, she was moving so fast when she vaulted up over the side that there was barely time for its occupants — Sticky, Constance, and the Ten Man — to look astonished before she’d slammed into the Ten Man and sent him toppling into the path below. He hit the ground hard, his arms and legs sprawling quite inelegantly, and as he climbed to his feet his face was cold and furious.

Kate had already leaped from the Salamander with Constance over her shoulder and raced away up the path. She thought Sticky was right behind her. But Sticky was much slower getting over the side, and Reynie started yelling, hoping to divert the Ten Man’s attention away from him. The Ten Man ignored Reynie, however, and went for the quarry at hand, plucking Sticky from the side of the Salamander as easily as he might have taken a shirt from a department store rack. And much as he might have done in a store, the Ten Man held the skinny boy in front of him by the shoulders, as if gauging the fit. Sticky wriggled and kicked, his feet dangling. The Ten Man looked disappointed. He pulled Sticky close, pinning him with one hand while with the other he took the handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit.

“Hold still now, ducky,” the Ten Man said. “Let’s have a little nap.”

Reynie had some vague, doomed notion of charging full tilt into the Ten Man if only he could get there in time. But he was still several yards away. Sticky, meanwhile, was jerking his face this way and that to avoid the treacherous handkerchief, and with a look of annoyance the Ten Man pressed his cheek against Sticky’s head to hold him still. Sticky jerked his head forward as hard as he could — and the Ten Man yelped.

“He scraped me!” the Ten Man snarled, his eyes wide with angry disbelief. “The little duck scraped me with his head!” Surprised though he was, the man still had hold of Sticky, and no doubt he would have returned to his handkerchief-attack with renewed vigor had not Reynie, at that exact moment, charged into him with outstretched arms, lowered head, and eyes squeezed tightly shut.

There was an instant’s confusion, during which the Ten Man swiped at Reynie’s nose with the handkerchief and missed, Sticky threw a wild punch at the Ten Man and succeeded in boxing Reynie’s left ear, and Reynie, recoiling from that painful blow, accidentally struck the Ten Man’s chin with the crown of his head. Then the Ten Man was tottering backward, stunned, and Sticky was free and running after the girls toward the shelter.

Reynie, unfortunately, had staggered backward himself, and it took him a moment to catch his balance. By then the Ten Man had recovered and was moving to block his path. Reynie wheeled about and darted off between two buildings. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the other Ten Man, the bespectacled one, coming up the path and looking amused. He was reaching into his briefcase.

Reynie ran behind one of the buildings and stopped to listen. No footsteps. No voices. He peeked around the corner. The Ten Man from the Salamander had regained his composure now and was nonchalantly tucking away his handkerchief, whereas the bespectacled Ten Man was sitting on the low stone wall of the well, his briefcase open on his lap, as if it had just occurred to him that he needed to go over some important papers. He glanced up at Reynie, smiled, and flicked his wrist. Something whistled past Reynie’s ear and into the darkness. For a moment he was so surprised he didn’t move.

“You missed,” said the other Ten Man with a snort. “You owe me a pencil.”

“Double or nothing,” said the bespectacled one, reaching into his briefcase again.

Reynie turned and ran as fast as he could.

The storm shelter’s door was on the path. He would have to go back out in the open. He passed one building, then another, then veered and raced out to the path again. He was now well away from the Salamander and directly across from the shelter. He didn’t see the Ten Men anymore — they must be circling behind him — and the shelter door was still open. This was his chance. But just as he started for the door, Martina emerged from between two buildings nearby, and Reynie knew the chase was over. Martina was faster and had a better angle. She was going to cut him off for sure.

“You’re mine, Muldoon,” said Martina, her face twisting in vengeful delight.

Reynie skidded to a stop in the middle of the path. “Close the door!” he yelled. “Close the door, Kate!”

Kate appeared in the dark doorway, but she didn’t close the door. She was holding her slingshot, drawing a bead. Reynie felt a burst of hope — he still had a chance! With an excited, incoherent cry, he lowered his shoulders and rushed for the door. Martina lunged to cut him off . . . Kate let fly with the slingshot . . . and Martina fell to her knees, howling and clutching her head.

“I saved one marble for you!” Kate called as Reynie ran inside. Then she saw something that made her jerk her head back. An object streaked past her nose and stuck in one of the wooden beams behind her with a loud thwack! Even in the darkness she could see it was a pencil — it must have been a very sharp pencil — and it quivered in the wood like an arrow. Kate slammed the door and threw the iron bolt.

“We made it!” Reynie gasped, scarcely believing it. The windowless storm shelter was pitch black inside. “Sticky, Constance, are you there? Are you all right?”

“Kate nearly broke my ribs,” Constance complained, which Reynie took as a good sign.

“I thought I was gone for sure,” said Sticky. “I thought we all were.”

In the darkness Reynie felt Constance grab hold of his hand.

Kate shone her flashlight on the wooden beam where the Ten Man’s pencil had stuck. She tried to yank it out, but it might as well have been set in cement. She couldn’t even break it off.

“I wonder what they’re doing,” Sticky said, putting his ear to the door to listen.

“Why, they’re waiting for us to let them in,” said a deep voice, and Reynie thought he might throw up. The voice had come from directly overhead.