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often see if they can get through a maze or ring a bell but no one has ever made a whole mouse school.’
    Emily was at Malcolm Mousefinder’s house. She and Malcolm were sitting on the lounge playing a computer game called Mouse Rage on Malcolm’s laptop. At Malcolm’s house there were always mice running around everywhere and one of them kept jumping onto the computer keys.
    â€˜Magnus!’ Malcolm said, putting the little mouse back on the floor. ‘Go and play somewhere else!’
    â€˜When my Mouse Academy is finished,’ the professor said. ‘Mice won’t just be the cuddly little critters that we all love.’
    â€˜What do you mean?’ Emily asked, as her computer game mouse raced ahead of Malcolm’s.
    â€˜They will be very well-educated cuddly little critters that we all love.’
    â€˜So what are you going to put in the cages?’
    â€˜Cages? These are classrooms , Emily,’ Professor Mousefinder said. He pointed to a cage with a sign over its door that said:
    Â 
    Welcome to The Mousefinder
Mouse Academy
    Â 
    â€˜Where will you find mouse teachers?’ Emily asked.
    â€˜That is the beauty of my Academy. There are no teachers. The mice teach themselves. Mice are very curious. That first classroom is Mousergarten. It’s a maze that each mouse has to find its way through to get to the next classroom. And in that one there’s an exercise wheel. The mouse will work out that when it spins the wheel really fast the door to another classroom will open.’
    â€˜Is that a swimming pool?’ Emily asked, pointing to one of the cages.
    â€˜Yes. Mice can all swim but at the Academy they’ll learn to be great swimmers. There will be gyms and art lessons and tiny little mouse musical instruments to play. Once they get through all the Mouse Grades they’ll go to Mousiversity.’
    â€˜But they can’t read and write, can they?’ Emily asked.
    â€˜They’ll learn,’ the professor said. ‘They’ll learn to talk just like us and read books and use the internet. I’m working on making a mouse computer.’
    â€˜So when will your Mouse Academy start?’
    â€˜Any day now. But first I have to find some really smart mice. All mice love to learn but I want to start with some extra special really smart mice.’
    As he said this, the mouse jumped onto Malcolm and Emily’s keyboard again.
    â€˜Bad Magnus!’ Malcolm said, putting him down on the floor once more. ‘I wish this one wouldlearn not to do that. By the way, Dad, I forgot to tell you but someone rang a while ago. They were looking for a mouseologist.’
    â€˜A mouseologist? Why I’m a mouseologist! What did they want?’
    â€˜They said they have a mouse problem,’ Malcolm said, handing his father a piece of paper with a telephone number on it.
    â€˜A mouse problem?’ the professor said. ‘Mice are never a problem. Where’s the telephone?’
    Minutes later the professor and Emily and Malcolm were speeding across town.
    â€˜Where are we going, Dad?’ Malcolm asked.
    â€˜I can’t tell you,’ the professor said. ‘It’s a secret agent centre that’s deep underground. Nobody’s allowed to know what they do there. No one’s even allowed to know that it exists.’
    â€˜Then why do you know?’
    â€˜Because I’m a mouseologist and they have mice.’
    The professor stopped the car at a huge gate. There were soldiers all around. Over the gate a sign said:
    Â 
    Deep Underground
Top Secret Intelligence Centre.
Keep Out!
    Â 
    The soldiers sent Professor Mousefinder and Emily and Malcolm down in a lift to a room where General Slimantrim was waiting.
    â€˜I asked you to come alone, Professor,’ the general said. ‘Who are these people?’
    â€˜This is my son, Malcolm. I never go on a mouse-finding expedition without him.’

    â€˜And the