Kate poked the keys deliberately, calling out the letters as she typed: “C-O-N-T-R-O-L.”
Nothing happened.
Over the intercom came S.Q.’s voice: “Mr. Curtain, sir! We’ve found a ladder and should have it outside your window in two minutes!”
Mr. Curtain chuckled. “Reynard, you pathetic fellow, did you honestly think you were smarter than I? Did you truly believe you could guess my code? ‘Control,’ indeed. Oh, bravo. Bravo, bravo. Three cheers for Reynard Muldoon!”
“I thought we’d try English first,” Reynie said thoughtfully. “But since you’re so proud of your home country, I think we’ll also try Dutch.”
Mr. Curtain’s jaw dropped. Then, trying to cover his consternation, he said, “As if you could possibly know —”
Reynie interrupted him. “Sticky, how do you spell ‘control’ in Dutch?”
“Same as in English,” Sticky replied. “Only with an E on the end.”
“Here’s hoping,” Kate said, reaching up to tap the E key.
“Snakes and dogs!” howled Mr. Curtain, before falling into a peaceful sleep.
As the hidden door slid open and Kate was swept up into Milligan’s good arm, Reynie and Sticky rushed over to help Constance. The cuffs and helmet had not retracted. Constance’s eyelids were fluttering, and still she murmured, so quietly it was difficult to hear her, “No . . . no . . . no . . .”
“We have to get her out!” Sticky said.
“Don’t worry, we will,” said a woman’s voice.
The boys turned to discover Rhonda Kazembe and Number Two standing right behind them. And then, before they could express their amazement, into the room strode Mr. Benedict himself.
“Mr. Benedict!” Reynie cried. “We were trying to confuse it — that is, Constance was, but —”
Mr. Benedict nodded. “You’ve done wondrously well. Wondrously well. Now how is dear Constance?”
“Awful,” said Sticky. “Just look at her.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Benedict, kneeling beside Constance, “this machine has come close to breaking her will. The brave child, she’s very nearly used it up all at once.”
“Very nearly?”
“Oh, she’ll quite recover.” In a much louder voice Mr. Benedict said, “Constance Contraire! You’ve done it, child! The Whisperer is deeply, profoundly confused — you can stop fighting now!”
The little girl stopped mumbling, smacked her lips, and opened her eyes. “What took you so long?”
“Do you see?” Mr. Benedict said with a fond smile, tousling her hair. “She’ll be fine. Constance, dear, please climb down from the chair now. We must hurry.”
“But she can’t climb down,” Reynie said, indicating the cuffs.
“What do you know about it?” Constance replied grumpily, sliding her tiny wrists free of the metal bands and slipping her head out of the helmet.
The boys gaped.
“You mean you could have gotten out any time you wanted?” Sticky asked.
“It would take some pretty small cuffs to hold me tight,” she replied.
Despite her bravado, however, Constance was so weak she toppled forward when she tried to stand. Mr. Benedict caught her, held her by the shoulders, and looked her squarely in the eyes. “I am so proud of you, Constance. You’ve been very brave indeed. Thank you for your great efforts.”
Constance beamed with pleasure.
There was no time for anything: not to express their shock at Constance’s having chosen to remain in the Whisperer despite the agonizing struggle, not to seek explanations for the arrival of Mr. Benedict and his agents, not even to tell Mr. Benedict what had happened. Fortunately, he and his agents seemed to know exactly what to do. Already Milligan had lifted the slumbering Mr. Curtain out of his chair and laid him — more gently than anyone thought he deserved — onto the floor. Already Rhonda was ushering the children toward the secret exit. And already Mr. Benedict (allowing himself only a moment to stare into the sleeping face of his brother, who had chosen such a dreadful path) — already he was taking Mr. Curtain’s place in the wheelchair and reaching for the red helmet.
“Mr. Benedict, there’s no time!” said Sticky. “They’ll come through that window any moment!”
“There’s time, Sticky, but not for everything. Thanks to you children, this machine is disoriented, and I must strike while the iron’s hot. Hurry now, all of you. Make your escape as quickly as you can.”
The others were dumbfounded, including Number Two, who had shadowed Mr. Benedict to the wheelchair and seemed at a loss what to do. “You mean you’re staying behind? But they’ll catch you! They’ll kill you!”
“Why else am I here if not to do this now?” he told her soothingly. “Milligan, please take my brother with you. We must separate him from his machine. If I fail to disable it, you must do everything in your power to keep him away from it.”
“You know I will,” Milligan said, shaking his hand. With his uninjured arm, he scooped up Mr. Curtain, still bound by Kate’s rope, and threw him over his shoulder.
“Now, don’t worry about me, children,” Mr. Benedict said. “Above all else, you must make your escape. Go at once! Milligan, allow no one to linger. Not even you, dear Number Two. Hurry now! Go!”
Escapes and Returns
Down, down the winding passage they went, through darkness and spider webs and dripping water, until at last they emerged into a cold wind, brilliant sunlight, and the sound of waves breaking on rocks. They were on the far side of the island, the side opposite the bridge. In the distance a flat-bottomed motorboat lay beached on a strip of sand scarcely wide enough to accommodate it. Together the little group scrambled through scrub brush and gravel down to the boat. Milligan dumped Mr. Curtain onto the sand, then began helping Rhonda and Number Two usher the children into the boat. Kate had just climbed over the gunwale, with Rhonda and Number Two scrambling in after her, when Sticky pointed and cried, “He’s getting away!”
Milligan whirled. Kate’s rope lay in a tangle on the sand, and Mr. Curtain was running with surprising swiftness back the way they’d come. Already he was almost to the secret passage. In an instant Milligan had pulled out his tranquilizer gun and fired — but it was too late; Mr. Curtain had gone too far. The dart whizzed behind him just as he disappeared into the secret passage.
It was a terrible misfortune, and for a moment Milligan seemed his old grim self. With a severe expression he turned back to the children. “No time to chase him. My duty is to see you to safety, and for that we must leave at once.” Laying a hand on Kate’s shoulder as he prepared to shove off, he murmured gently, “Remind me, though, to teach you a better knot.”
“What if Mr. Curtain stops Mr. Benedict before he can disable the Whisperer?” Sticky asked.
“We’ll go into hiding,” Rhonda said gravely. “Those are Mr. Benedict’s instructions.”
Milligan launched the boat and steered them out into the channel, where the children eyed the rocks that jutted up here and there on all sides.
“Um, Milligan, aren’t these waters supposed to be dangerous to navigate?” asked Reynie as the boat whizzed past a sharp rock, missing it by inches.
“Oh, yes, fearsome dangerous,” said Milligan with a smile. “Many a boat has capsized here. But I haven’t been secretly swimming in the channel every night for nothing. I know these rocks well. You’ve nothing to fear.”
The strange sight of Milligan’s smile eased their fears of drowning, but it also chafed Constance, who blurted, “How can you possibly smile knowing Mr. Benedict is back there? He’s sure to have been captured already, and now Mr. Curtain will see to it that he’s killed!”
“Don’t fret, child,” Milligan said, squinting against the spray as he steered their boat between two boulders. The mainland was rapidly approaching. “I intend to return for him the moment I’ve ferried you to safety. I would never abandon Mr. Benedict.”