Nicholas smiled. “Yes, but I think you’ll find them acceptable. If you’ll just agree to them, I’ll take you to the treasure. You have only to give me your word.”
Mr. Collum’s nostrils flared. He stared at Nicholas, obviously trying to master his anger. He seemed unable to speak.
“Shall I list them for you?” Nicholas prompted. “Or is now not a good time? Would you prefer that I write them down and bring you the list later?”
Mr. Collum opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out. A glass of water stood on his desk, and with a sudden movement he grabbed it and drank all the water in a gulp. Then he banged the glass down and stared at Nicholas again. He looked as though he were bracing himself for a blow.
In a conciliatory tone, Nicholas suggested that perhaps he could quickly rattle off the conditions now—in the interest of saving time. Mr. Collum only stared, his lips drawn together in a tight line. And so Nicholas listed the conditions.
Mr. Hopefield, he said, the owner of the farm just to the north of the Manor, was soon to acquire a tractor. Nicholas wanted Mr. Collum to approach Mr. Hopefield and suggest a cooperative arrangement. The orphanage farm could borrow Mr. Hopefield’s tractor, and in exchange Mr. Hopefield, during the busy harvest season, would receive help in his fields from a rotating group of older children.
“I’m confident we can arrange it so that everyone benefits, and no one is overworked—especially not any of the children. We’ll be able to produce more crops and sell the excess in town.”
Mr. Collum blinked, confused. “This—this is your condition?” he asked, finding his voice.
“The first one,” Nicholas said, and hurried on.
Mr. Collum must also purchase additional chickens for the orphanage farm. The surplus eggs could likewise be sold in Pebbleton, where there happened to be a great demand for them, and yet a scarce supply. Cream, too, for that matter. Nicholas was certain that a daily trip into Pebbleton with eggs, cream, and vegetables to sell would be most profitable.
“We won’t get rich, mind you,” Nicholas said, “but you know how to manage money wisely, Mr. Collum, and I’m positive that with a few adjustments, we can keep the orphanage running.”
Mr. Collum was leaning forward now, turning his head first to one side and then to the other, as if he were not hearing Nicholas properly.
“Of course,” Nicholas continued, still speaking rapidly, “we won’t be needing our old mule anymore, but I happen to know of a man who is in urgent need of a watchdog for his barn, only he can’t have a watchdog—his wife is afraid of dogs, you see—and I feel quite certain that he’d be willing to pay good money for a watch mule.” He allowed himself a quick, nickering laugh, and Mr. Collum’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He had never heard Nicholas laugh before.
“We can explain to the man,” Nicholas went on, “that all he needs to do is put Rabbit in his barn with a carrot each night. Rabbit will take care of the rest. And we can use the proceeds from the sale to buy the extra chickens. Do you see how neatly that works?”
Mr. Collum’s eyes darted left and right as he weighed these suggestions. “But where do you come in?” he muttered. His eyes settled on Nicholas’s face again. “What about you?”
“Oh, I’m glad you asked!” Nicholas cried. “What I would like to do, you see, is repair all that extra equipment in the basement so that we can sell it—or, even better, rent it out, which would provide a small but steady income for the Manor. None of that stuff is being used, anyway, and I’m quite handy with tools.”
“But… but… but these are all excellent ideas!” Mr. Collum cried, suddenly animated. He leaped to his feet, thumping his fists on his desk and almost upsetting the empty glass. He wasn’t looking at Nicholas—his eyes were fixed on some point above Nicholas’s head. “Why, they really might work! We don’t need much! Only a little bit more, and I’m sure we can make a go of it! No humiliations! My reputation—” Mr. Collum caught himself. He closed his mouth and looked about the office, plainly disconcerted. He was still avoiding Nicholas’s eye.
Nicholas raised a finger. “To be clear on one thing, though, we must keep the bicycle-powered phonograph and records, to be used for socials and rainy-day activities. We can take turns on the bicycle, which is excellent exercise, and the others can dance, which is also excellent exercise. I’m sure you’ll agree, Mr. Collum, that exercise promotes good health. True, it can be noisy, which I believe was your reason for prohibiting the use of the phonograph. But my conditions provide for that, too. We’ll clean up Mr. Rothschild’s old study upstairs, which you may then use as a second study, or even as your main one—whichever you like. When you’re up there, you’ll be protected from any noise down here. It’s the same principle that has you locking me into my room each night, isn’t it? So that my screams won’t disturb anyone on the other floor? But unlike me, Mr. Collum, you will have a choice.”
This was the only part in Nicholas’s speech in which his tone grew icy and accusing. He quickly shook it off, however, and went on cheerfully to explain his last few conditions. The girls’ dormitory would be relocated to the schoolhouse, which was mild, quiet, and pleasant at night and would offer the girls better sleep. School would be held in the ballroom, which during the daytime was more comfortable than the hot and stuffy schoolhouse. Nicholas named one or two other ways in which the Manor could be made to run more efficiently, then drew to a close.
“I believe that’s all for now, Mr. Collum,” he said. “Though I hope you’ll allow me to consult with you in the future about other possible improvements. I’m sure more will occur to me as we move forward with these changes.”
By this time the director had retaken his seat and was listening intently to every word. When at last Nicholas lapsed into a waiting silence, Mr. Collum was plainly baffled. Cocking his head to the side, he said, “But I repeat, Nicholas, what about you? Don’t you wish to be released from your punishments? Or to be moved into a different room? Or to receive some reward? What is it that you want for yourself?”
“Oh, as for that,” Nicholas said, waving off the question, “all of this is for me—for me as much as anyone. As you’ve said yourself, the Manor is going to be my home for a while. Why wouldn’t I want it to be as pleasant a home as possible?” His face took on a sly expression, and with a subtle shrug, he added, “Naturally, I also wish to partake of the treasure.”
Mr. Collum suddenly looked extremely serious. “Ah,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “So now we come to the truth at last.”
“No,” Nicholas said, and he looked Mr. Collum directly in the eye. “We arrived at the truth the moment I walked into this room. You’ve already admitted that with the changes I’m suggesting, we can probably save the orphanage. There is no reason for you to keep all the treasure for yourself, Mr. Collum. None whatsoever.”
Mr. Collum pursed his lips, obviously weighing his response.
“However,” said Nicholas in a much lighter tone, “we can negotiate those details later.” He jumped up. “If you’ll just agree to these conditions, I’ll take you to the treasure right away.”
Mr. Collum likewise jumped up—in surprise. “You can’t be serious!”
Nicholas frowned in mock confusion. “I can’t?” He knew Mr. Collum had no idea how to handle him. Mr. Collum could not understand why Nicholas would take him to the treasure without arriving at some agreement first. Why would the boy throw away his only bargaining chip?
Mr. Collum quickly recovered, and seizing the opportunity, he cried, “But of course I’ll agree to the conditions! They’re very fine recommendations, Nicholas, and I’ll be delighted to implement the changes you suggest. I give you my word.”
And with that, Mr. Collum extended his hand to Nicholas for the first time. And Nicholas shook it.
“I take you at your word, then,” Nicholas said with a smile. “And now you had better prepare yourself.”
Mr. Collum swallowed, took a sharp breath, nodded. “Lead the way, you
ng man.”
Nicholas did. With Mr. Collum at his heels, he marched out of the office, across the entranceway, and into the library, where, with a delighted look, he threw out his arms and turned in a slow circle. “Welcome,” he exclaimed triumphantly, “to the treasure chamber!”
I don’t understand,” Mr. Collum said, glancing about the library. “You don’t mean the library itself, surely. Do you mean there is a secret panel that leads to the chamber? Where is it?”
Nicholas gestured at the shelves. “The books are the treasure, Mr. Collum. The books! Mrs. Rothschild spent hour upon hour luxuriating in books. She loved them so much she often looked in on them even when she didn’t intend to read. She’d go out of her way to do so. And why shouldn’t she? They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
Mr. Collum was bewildered. Slowly he sat down in one of the chairs. “But he called it her treasure. He specifically called it… called it…”
“But it is a treasure, Mr. Collum,” insisted Nicholas. “Think of the wealth of knowledge in this room! Think of the riches! It’s easy to see why Mr. Rothschild would call the books her treasure. They were a treasure even before he had them re-covered so beautifully.”
Mr. Collum stiffened. His eyes gained focus as he looked at Nicholas. “Re-covered? But I thought…” His voice trailed off as understanding dawned on him.
“You thought that the treasure had gone missing? Or been stolen?” Nicholas chuckled and shook his head. “I was misled by that, too. But of course he was only referring to the new covers on all the books—those lovely leather covers with the golden lettering. That was his big surprise for Diana. I can’t believe I didn’t see it! He had nicknames for almost everybody, didn’t he? So when he referred to ‘Mr. Booker,’ why didn’t I realize that the man had something to do with books? But it’s clear enough now, isn’t it? Mr. Rothschild hired him to ‘recover’ this entire library while he and Diana were out of the country!”
“It’s possible,” Mr. Collum muttered dejectedly. He rubbed his face. “It’s possible, yes. But it isn’t certain. I’m sure it isn’t certain.”
“I’m afraid it is,” Nicholas said gently. “All the clues point to it. Just think, Mr. Rothschild referred to the ‘discomfiting cold,’ didn’t he? Well, look around, Mr. Collum. There’s no fireplace in this library. It’s one of the very few rooms in the Manor not to have one. Neither of us has been in here during the winter, you know. You arrived in the spring, and I came in the summer. I’ll bet in the winter, we’ll find out that this room gets awfully chilly.”
Mr. Collum was not listening. Something had occurred to him. He’d risen to his feet again and gone to a window to look out, deep in thought. Suddenly snapping his fingers, he whirled to face Nicholas. “You’re forgetting something, Nicholas! The missing inheritance! If these books are the treasure, then where did those millions go? Hmm? Tell me that!”
“I hate to disappoint you, Mr. Collum,” said Nicholas (though this was not entirely true), “but those missing millions went to the construction of the Stonetown Library, the first free and public library in the entire region. Mrs. Rothschild donated the money anonymously, of course, because she wouldn’t have wanted all the attention. But neither did she need that money, and it was just like her to give it away. I know that now, though I didn’t used to. I didn’t believe people like Mrs. Rothschild existed. But some do. Not many, maybe, but some.”
“But how…” Mr. Collum’s voice faltered. And once again he sat down, this time on the window seat behind him, and he sat more heavily than before. He put his head into his hands. At long last, he had come to accept that Nicholas possessed a most extraordinary mind, which was an unnerving fact on its own, but one made still worse by his understanding that if Nicholas truly was a genius, then he was probably right about the missing inheritance.
“I… I don’t understand yet, Nicholas,” Mr. Collum said quietly, from behind his hands. “Please explain to me how you know all this.”
Nicholas came to sit beside Mr. Collum on the window seat. He looked out across the library at all the beautiful books, and speaking softly, he said, “Construction on the Stonetown Library began the same year Mrs. Rothschild received her inheritance, not long after she and Mr. Rothschild went into Stonetown to have a lot of meetings. I’m certain she was making arrangements for the library to be built. She formed a charitable foundation as a cover, so that she might remain anonymous. She called it the Alexandria Foundation, which seems a perfect choice, when you think about it. Alexandria was the site of the greatest library in the ancient world. Awfully clever of her, don’t you think?”
Mr. Collum shrugged. “I wouldn’t know,” he muttered. “It appears that I’m no fair judge of cleverness.”
“Well, you can take my word for it,” Nicholas said. “It was awfully clever of her, and I’ll tell you why. The reason behind the name ‘Alexandria’ seemed so obvious that nobody ever wondered if there were other reasons, too. Sly reasons. In all these years, no one appears ever to have considered that ‘Alexandria’ might also be an anagram for the anonymous donor—the person behind the foundation. Do you remember Mrs. Rothschild’s maiden name, Mr. Collum?”
“Rexal, wasn’t it?”
“Exactly. Her maiden name was Diana Rexal. Rearrange the letters, Mr. Collum, and you have Alexandria.” Nicholas grinned. “Diana was smart. I’ll bet she already knew about that anagram when she was my age—and I’ll bet she loved it. When the time came to name the foundation, I’m sure the choice was plain to her.”
“And you have proof of all this?” Mr. Collum asked, lowering his hands.
“Why, do you still have your doubts?”
Mr. Collum considered, then shook his head. “I only wondered.”
Nicholas shrugged. “So far it’s all circumstantial evidence, but everything seems to fit, doesn’t it? We might never be able to get actual proof. You know Mrs. Rothschild would have arranged it so that no one could ever find out for sure. Otherwise someone would have figured it out, and she would have been in all the newspapers, which is the last thing she would have wanted. Her privacy was so important to her. And Mr. Rothschild was careful to protect it, too—he never mentions the inheritance anywhere in his diary. He wouldn’t have wanted anyone to come across it accidentally and discover the truth.”
The two former treasure hunters sat for some time in silence.
“I can’t believe it,” Mr. Collum said at last. “All this time, and the answer was right here in plain sight.”
“Isn’t that the way?” Nicholas agreed. “Those Rothschilds really had us going. But as for me, I’m glad it turned out this way. It seems more decent, somehow. I think I feel richer than any amount of money could have made me feel.”
Mr. Collum looked at him askance. “Are you joking, son?”
Nicholas shook his head. “Of course, I might be wrong about that. I’ve been wrong about a lot of things.”
Mr. Collum smiled at him then. It seemed a rather grudging smile, but it was a smile, nonetheless. “Well, you did solve a mystery. A mystery that has thwarted curious minds for decades. I suppose that would make anyone feel rich.”
Again the two of them sat in silence for some time.
Then, as if by unspoken agreement, they stood up and shook hands. They went their separate ways, each to his duties.
Giant’s Head was vacant when Nicholas arrived that night—a windy, starry night, with strips of clouds racing across the face of the moon. He had arrived earlier than usual, and he had brought a broom. Putting down his lantern, he set about sweeping the observatory floor, clearing away the dust and bits of rubble left behind by his chiseling. The whole time he thought of John. He wondered what his friend was doing now, whether he was happy with his new family. Now that Nicholas was on somewhat better terms with Mr. Collum, he intended to get the family’s address and write John a letter. He would explain everything that had happened. He would say that he planned to keep Giant’s Head clean in John’s honor.
And he would wish John all the happiness in the world. And mean it.
Even so, and despite his general state of excitement, by the time Violet arrived, Nicholas had grown rather melancholy, and the sight of her in the doorway lifted his spirits. Her hair was flying all about her head—the wind was really howling around the observatory now—and Nicholas even laughed and told her she looked like a witch.
“A good witch, though,” he said as she came in. “My favorite, in fact.”
Violet smiled affectionately at him and rubbed his head. (Nicholas cringed, but by some miracle she missed both of his painful knots.) You will need another haircut soon, she signed. Your hair has gotten so long I can actually see it.
They sat down to talk. Violet, to Nicholas’s delight, had brought an entire blackberry pie and an entire bottle of milk, and she cut big slices for each of them. As Nicholas ate, Violet told him about her day. Everything had gone wonderfully well, she said. Everyone was amazed and excited. After a brief telephone conversation, the mining-company officials had sent a representative to confirm that the drill was indeed retrievable. Shocked though they were, they understood their position and agreed to fulfill their obligations at once. And no sooner had this been arranged than Mr. Collum had telephoned her father to discuss ways they might cooperate to help each other.
Mr. Collum had somehow gotten the impression that my father intended to purchase a tractor, Violet signed, which surprised my father very much, as he hadn’t actually decided that yet but was considering it.
Nicholas grinned and wiped milk from his mouth. “Well, it only makes sense, doesn’t it? Now that you’re getting the money from the mining company, those savings can be spent on a tractor, and you can still go to art school next year.”
We’ll see about that, Violet signed. There are a lot of things to consider.
Nicholas was amazed. “Like what? You aren’t serious, are you? It’s your dream!”
Violet did not seem concerned. We can discuss this later. Don’t worry, I’m fine. We’re all happier than we have been in ages. No matter what, everything is going to be all right. Now, I know you have things to tell me, too. So tell me, please. There is plenty of pie. You don’t have to eat it all at once.
The Extraordinary Education of Nicholas Benedict Page 34