The Shrunken Head

“Beautiful!” Mr. Dumfrey stepped forward again, dabbing his eyes with his handkerchief. “Magnificent! Well said! To Potts! May your eternal cup overfloweth! And now—please join us for light refreshments in the Hall of Worldwide Wonders. You’ll find sandwiches to the right of the largest collection of fossilized dinosaur eggs in existence, and cookies just past the display case containing the world’s biggest hairball, disgorged from the belly of an Asian water buffalo. Please—take a pamphlet! Remember, tomorrow it’s back to business as usual, opening at ten a.m., closing at seven p.m., and nothing but wonder and magic in between. But today we reflect! We remember! We—ah, yes, Mr. Mayor, I’d love to pose for a picture.”


The gears of Thomas’s brain had finally become unstuck. He turned to Sam. “Dervish Potts,” he said. “D. Potts. Do you know what that means?”

“He had a terrible name?” Sam ventured.

“Hardaway told Dumfrey that Mr. Anderson had an appointment the day he died. Appointment with D.,” Thomas said. “What do you wanna bet he meant Dervish?”

“But where does that get us?” Pippa said. “Even if Potts did meet with Mr. Anderson, we can’t prove it. And we still don’t know what happened to that head.”

“Children!” Mr. Dumfrey was gesturing to them frantically from the stage. “What are you doing back there? Come here! This instant!”

They emerged cautiously out of the wings. Instantly, Dumfrey threw his arms around them and ushered them to the center of the stage. “That’s right, that’s right. In the spotlight, where you belong. You’re my star performers! Max, get that toothpick out of your mouth. Remember to smile. I said smile, Sam. You look like you’re about to have a tooth extracted.”

There was a sudden explosion of camera flashes, and Thomas was blinded. Spots of color swam in front of his eyes. Disembodied voices called out: “Over here! Look over here!”

Suddenly, Thomas saw a monstrous bird bearing down on them. No. Not a bird, but something much worse: Andrea von Stikk, wearing a feather hat.

“Mr. Dumfrey,” she said with a look of distaste, as if the name were a dirty word. “Up to your usual tricks, I see. Parading these poor children in front of the crowds like little lambs offered up for sacrifice.”

“Miss von Stikk.” Mr. Dumfrey greeted her with a stiff bow. “What a pleasant surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here. I rather thought you were too busy torturing children with their multiplication tables.”

She smiled thinly. “Education is never torture, Mr. Dumfrey,” she said. “And I’m here on official business.” She withdrew from her large purse a stack of papers and slapped them in Mr. Dumfrey’s hands. “A court petition,” she said, as he fumbled for his glasses, “for the removal of the children from your custody.”

“What?” Thomas nearly choked on his tongue.

Mr. Dumfrey lowered his glasses. His face was white. “You won’t get away with this.”

“I most certainly will,” Miss von Stikk said. Her beady black eyes glittered dangerously. “You may have been cleared by the police, Mr. Dumfrey, but I can assure you the court of public opinion has found you guilty many times over. I will not sit by and let you corrupt these four extraordinary children. These angels belong with— Ahhhhhh!”

As she spoke, Miss von Stikk placed a hand on Max’s shoulder. Instantly, Max whipped the toothpick from her mouth and drove it straight into von Stikk’s hand. Miss von Stikk let out a blood-curdling scream.

“I told you to keep your hands off me,” Max growled.

“Max, that was very wrong,” Mr. Dumfrey said, but Thomas was sure he was struggling not to smile. “Miss von Stikk is only trying to help, misguided though she may be in her methods.”

“We don’t want no help,” Max said.

“Any,” Pippa said. Max glared at her. Pippa blushed and turned to face Miss von Stikk. “We don’t want any help. We want to stay with Mr. Dumfrey.”

Miss von Stikk was cradling her injured hand to her chest. Her nostrils flared with every breath. She reminded Thomas very much of a bull when confronted by a red flag. “I have no need of further proof,” she said in a voice strangled with fury. “You have raised these children to be animals. You are unfit to be their caretaker, and I intend to prove it. Good day to you, Mr. Dumfrey. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”





No sooner had Andrea von Stikk swept out of the room than the children received another, secondary shock. Still blinded by the glare of the cameras, Pippa could not immediately identify the source of the commotion. She heard Miss Fitch squeal, then a familiar peal of laughter.

Blinking rapidly, she saw the thick crowd parting. From within them, like two figures carried to shore on a dark wave, came Hugo and Phoebe—flushed, smiling, and holding hands. Thomas let out a cry of surprise, and Pippa gasped.

“Aha.” Mr. Dumfrey’s eyes were twinkling, and Pippa saw that he, for one, was not at all surprised by their reappearance. “There you are. Just in time to pay your respects. And to receive my respects, of course.” Mr. Dumfrey pumped Hugo’s hand as he lumbered onto the stage and helped Phoebe up behind him. Phoebe blushed when Mr. Dumfrey leaned down to kiss her hand. “Congratulations, my dearest Phoebe,” Mr. Dumfrey said. “Or should I say . . . my dearest Mrs. Hugo?”

“What?” all four children said at once. Miss Fitch swooned and was barely saved from toppling backward by the intervention of Goldini, who caught her.