Free The Perilous Journey by Trenton Lee Stewart Page A

ponytail, she winked at the guards and said in a breezy tone, “Just looking up a word.”
    The guards nodded, but one of them — a burly, bulldoggish man — watched the children with an appraising look that verged on suspicion. Reynie turned his back, the better to hide his own nervous expression. Sticky had already located the first dictionary and was rapidly examining it as the others looked on. He closed it with a discouraged sigh. “No luck.”
    The burly guard leaned toward them. “Must be an unusual word, eh? You ought to try the other dictionary. It’s really big.”
    “How do you know there’s another dictionary?” asked Sticky, surprised.
    “What else do we have to look at all day but these bookshelves?” said the guard. He pointed a little way down the shelves. “It’s right over there, a great huge fat one. Wait, now where is it? I remember it perfectly — terrible condition, falling apart at the seams. It was right there, I’m sure of it.”
    “I know the one you mean,” Sticky said, pointing to a gap on the shelves. “It
was
right there.”
    The other guard spoke up. “Oh, Mr. Benedict took that one! Couple weeks back. You were on break, Russ,” he said to the burly guard. “Said he was going to fix it up, but I don’t suppose he got around to it before he left. I saw it in his study not two days ago, and it was still in awful shape.”
    Reynie’s heart leaped. “His study? I guess we should go down there, then.” He and the others quickly turned to go, only to find their way blocked.
    “Listen, you kids, I know what you’re doing,” said Russ, the burly guard.
    They stared at him in bewildered dismay. How could he know? Was this over before they’d even begun?
    Reynie forced himself to speak. “You know what we’re… doing?”
    “You’re trying to distract yourselves,” Russ said. “I understand. You’re worried about Mr. Benedict and Number Two, and you’re just aching to think about anything else. Am I right?”
    “Yes!” cried Sticky from behind Reynie. He sounded much too eager to agree, and Russ might have paused to consider this had Constance not crossed her arms and grumpily remarked, “If you say so.”
    “Let me give you some advice,” said Russ, scratching a dry patch on his left jowl. “If you really mean to be distracted, don’t go down to Mr. Benedict’s study. Go back to your room and play a nice little game. Okay?”
    “Why?” Reynie asked. “Why not go into his study?”
    “It’s serious business down there, son. They’re going through all his papers right now — every folder, file, and book — looking for clues to his whereabouts. They won’t let you in there, anyway. Not until they’re finished, at least.”
    “Thank you,” said Reynie as calmly as possible. “It’s… good advice. Come on, everyone, let’s go play a game.”
    The children hurriedly said goodbye to the guards, who watched in bemusement as they bumped into one another, sorted themselves out, and walked with strange jerky steps down the long hallway, looking for all the world as if they were trying not to run in panic.
    “Poor kids,” said Russ in a low tone. “They’ll do anything to avoid the scary stuff.”

    As soon as the children were out of sight of the guards, they ducked into the first available room (it happened to be Number Two’s bedroom) to discuss their dilemma.
    “If they find that clue,” Kate said, closing the door, “you know we’ll never see it.”
    “They may
already
have found it,” Constance said. She dropped despondently onto the yellow rug Number Two had woven for her floor. “For all we know, they’re planning some disastrous rescue mission even as we speak.”
    “We have to assume they haven’t found it yet,” Reynie said. “Mr. Benedict has an awful lot of books and papers in that study, and they probably won’t think to check the dictionary until they’ve checked everything else.”
    “We need a distraction,” said Kate.