The detective shifted slightly, and muttered something.

Good God. Was he asleep?

Scaramouch cleared his throat and gave the detective a little kick. The detective jerked awake and looked around for a moment, then looked up with those empty eye sockets.

“Oh,” he said, like he had just met a casual acquaintance on the street, “hello.”

Unsure how to counter this unexpected approach to being a captive, Scaramouch decided to replay the sneer.

“Skulduggery Pleasant,” he repeated. “Finally, you are within my grasp.”

“It does appear so,” Pleasant agreed, nodding. “And in a dungeon, no less. How brilliantly postmodern of you.”

“You have interfered in my plans for the last time,” Scaramouch continued. “Unfortunately for you, you will not live to regret your mistake.”

Pleasant tilted his head curiously. “Scaramouch? Scaramouch Van Dreg? Is that you?”

Scaramouch smiled nastily. “Oh, yes. You have fallen into the clutches of your deadliest enemy.”

“What are you doing here?”

Scaramouch’s smile faltered. “What?”

“How are you mixed up in all this?”

“How am I…? What do you mean? This is my plot.”

“You’re plotting to use the Crystal of the Saints to bring the Faceless Ones back into our reality?”

Scaramouch frowned. “What? No. What do the Faceless Ones have to do with this? I don’t want the Faceless Ones back, I don’t even worship them. No, this plot is for me, to gain absolute power.”

“Then… you’re not in league with Rancid Fines or Christophe Nocturnal?”

“I’ve never even met Rancid Fines,” Scaramouch said, “and I hate Christophe Nocturnal.”

Pleasant absorbed this information with a nod. “In that case, I’m afraid there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding.”

Scaramouch felt like he’d been punched in the gut. All the breath left him, and his shoulders slumped. “You mean, you’re not here for me?”

“Dreadfully sorry,” Pleasant said.

“But… but you arrived at the hotel. You and your partner, the girl. You were asking all those questions.”

“We were looking for Fines and Nocturnal. We didn’t even know you were in the country. To be honest, and I don’t mean to offend you or anything, but I thought you had passed away some time ago.”

Scaramouch gaped. “I just took a little break…”

Pleasant shrugged. “Well, at least now I know. So what are you up to these days?”

“I’m… I have plans,” Scaramouch said, dejected.

“The absolute power thing you mentioned?”

Scaramouch nodded.

“And how’s that going?”

“It’s going OK, I suppose. I mean, you know, everything’s on schedule and proceeding apace…”

“Well, that’s good. We all need something to get us up in the mornings, am I right? We all need goals.”

“Yeah.” An unwelcome thought seeped into Scaramouch’s mind and lingered there. He tried ignoring it but it flickered and swam, and finally he had to ask, “You don’t view me as your deadliest enemy, do you?”