damp and strangely warm, and had a faintly sulfurous odor. Inside, at the end of a narrow, tunnel-like passage, the cave opened into a much larger space, a cavern in which stalactites and stalagmites bristled from above and below. The children could see everything quite well, for the cavern was illuminated by a series of floodlights erected on metal stands. Nothing moved. No voices sounded. But the children had seen the flickering shadows; they knew someone was down in there. Reynie recalled how the island, when seen from a height, had resembled a monstrous beast. Now they were walking right into its mouth.
At the end of the passage, where the cavern opened up, the children stopped to study their eerie surroundings. The stalagmites here rose out of the ground every dozen or so steps; the stalactites, even more numerous, crowded the cavern ceiling and hung so low that an adult could have reached up and touched their pointed tips. Everything, from floor to ceiling, appeared slimy and gray; everything glistened in the bright floodlights. And the soft buzzing of those lights was the only sound the children could hear — until they heard a man cough.
They swiveled their eyes toward one another, hearts hammering. The cough had been simple and short, a normal-sounding cough, and had come from close by. Signaling the others to stay put, Kate crept several steps further. She paused. Reynie saw her eyes widen. Holding a finger to her lips, Kate beckoned them to join her. The children moved forward on tiptoe.
There, in a sort of clearing among the stalagmites, was Mr. Benedict.
He sat several paces away from them, with his back against the only stalagmite in the clearing. His head was down, his eyes were closed, and his hands were behind him in what looked to be a very uncomfortable position. A metal loop had been driven into the stalagmite beside him; Reynie guessed that it was to this loop that Number Two had been handcuffed, and that Mr. Benedict was probably cuffed to one just like it. That would explain why his hands were behind him at such an awkward angle. Seeing Mr. Benedict made Reynie’s heart swell — there was that familiar head of white hair and that familiar green plaid suit, both rumpled as ever! — but his burst of happiness instantly gave way to concern, for who knew what sort of condition Mr. Benedict was in?
Despite the surge of emotions they felt at the sight of Mr. Benedict, the children kept their composure. Silently, with all their senses on alert, they glanced around for sign of Mr. Curtain. Not far from Mr. Benedict stood a narrow work table covered with equipment — a microscope, several vials and stoppered bottles, and various oddments and tools — and beneath it was a stack of perhaps fifty black metal containers that resembled shoe boxes. Whether all this belonged to Mr. Benedict or Mr. Curtain was impossible to tell, just as it was impossible to tell if there was a key on the table, a key that might release Mr. Benedict. Reynie strained his eyes looking for one, but he was too far away, and it seemed too risky to go over there right now. Someone had been moving around in this cavern, almost certainly Mr. Curtain, and the children had yet to spot him. They mustn’t let themselves get sneaked up on.
Reynie cast a nervous glance toward the passage behind them, then began to study the cavern floor, searching for human-shaped shadows. Was Mr. Curtain hiding behind a stalagmite, ready to burst out at the right moment? Kate tugged his arm and pointed. Far off to their left was an opening in the cavern wall, beyond which there appeared to be a separate chamber, equally well lit. It, too, was thick with stalagmites and stalactites, and at first glance had seemed part of the cavern in which they stood. Reynie felt a rush of hope. If Mr. Curtain was in that other chamber, they might be able to free Mr. Benedict without ever encountering his wicked brother.
“What do you think?” Kate whispered to Reynie.
It was a soft whisper, but even so, Mr. Benedict’s eyes sprang open. The effect was disconcerting — no matter that he was their friend and they were here to rescue him — and the children, startled, almost cried out.
“You’re here?” Mr. Benedict whispered, his expression incredulous. “But how —?” He cut himself off and whispered urgently, “Never mind! Listen to me, children. There’s little time. You must destroy the duskwort! We can’t let Ledroptha discover its whereabouts!”
“But we have no idea where it is!” Kate whispered. “You’ll have to show us!”
Mr. Benedict frowned. “You don’t know? But I thought . . . Never mind. It’s all right. Just — wait. Hold still a moment. Be quiet now. There he goes.”
The children, frozen in their spots, swiveled their eyes all around. A movement beyond the opening in the cavern wall caught their attention — and then they glimpsed what appeared to be a human head and torso floating past in the other chamber. A prickling sensation traveled up everyone’s spine. Constance gave a muffled whimper. The ghostly sight would have been frightening even if they hadn’t known what it actually was. But they did know. There had been no mistaking Mr. Curtain in his wheelchair. They’d seen that long, lumpy nose and shock of white hair, and the gliding motion was undeniably that of something rolling across the ground. Yes, they had all seen it, and yet, strangely, none of them had
Regardless, Mr. Benedict had somehow sensed the wheelchair passing by; and he seemed to sense, too, when it was safe to speak again. He nodded at the children. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “But he’ll come back any moment. You must hurry!”
Reynie’s arms were covered in goose bumps. “What should we do?”
“Untie my hands,” Mr. Benedict said. “Hurry now, and we’ll escape together!”
Reynie hesitated. Something seemed amiss, but in the urgency of the moment he couldn’t immediately identify it. Kate, though, had already taken out her Army knife — cutting through a rope was obviously faster than untying it — and she began hurrying toward Mr. Benedict just as Constance yanked on Reynie’s arm. Reynie, looking down, realized that she’d been trying to speak but had been too terrified to make a sound. Her eyes were huge. She was frantically shaking her head.
With a flash of horror, Reynie understood the reason for his misgivings: Mr. Benedict would never have asked them to untie him — not when lingering here so clearly jeopardized their safety. No, Mr. Benedict would have told them to run. Reynie dashed after Kate, waving his arms. Not daring to cry out (for fear of a Ten Man lurking in the other chamber) he whispered, “Kate, stop!
Kate heard him and looked back, which was exactly the worst thing she could have done. She had already drawn too close to Mr. Curtain — for it could be none other than Mr. Curtain leaping to his feet with such a look of malevolent triumph — and before she understood what was happening, the wicked man had seized her.
Reynie charged in at full tilt. But no sooner had Mr. Curtain grabbed Kate than he let her go, and as Kate slumped to the floor with a stunned expression, Reynie noticed the shiny, silver gloves on Mr. Curtain’s hands — one of which shot forward and took him by the arm. Instantly he felt as if a fireworks display had been launched inside him; his body seemed composed of a million white-hot sparks. It was astonishingly painful, and Reynie’s relief was intense when the fireworks faded, leaving what appeared to be a clear black sky. Or no, not sky . . . Reynie opened his eyes and saw Mr. Curtain’s blurry, smiling face floating above him. He heard Sticky’s voice as if from a great distance, telling Constance to run. Then he felt something cold, hard, and metallic tightening around his wrist.
