He wandered over to a lamp. It was a very nice lamp. He’d seen better, of course he had, but this was a very fine example of a perfectly nice lamp. It suited the room. He approved. Beside the lamp was a fountain pen. He picked it up. It was an old pen, a classic. He wasn’t an expert on pens, but he knew an old, classic pen when he saw one. He remembered when pens like this had first gone on sale, over a hundred and fifty years ago, when they were brand new and cutting edge. He’d probably owned a few. There was a pad of paper on which the pen had been lying, and he looked at it now, at what was written across the top page.

I’m going to be hit by a train, it read.

Scrutinous frowned. “Um,” he said.

“Yes?” Skulduggery asked, from somewhere behind him.

“Um, I’m not sure, but I think I may have found a clue.”

Skulduggery and Valkyrie joined him, and peered down at the pad.

“Ah,” said Skulduggery. “I think you’re right. That is indeed a clue. I don’t know what it tells us, apart from the obvious, but it definitely tells us something. Valkyrie?”

“It tells us Cassidy knew what was going to happen,” Valkyrie said.

Skulduggery nodded. “Anything else?”

“Uh…”

Skulduggery hunkered down and poked the pad with his finger. “The handwriting is very clear. Very legible. When he wrote this, he was calm. That tells us one of two things. Either he had already accepted his fate, or he didn’t believe it would happen. Or he wasn’t aware that he was writing it.”

“That’s three things,” Valkyrie said. “How do we know it’s even his handwriting?”

“There’s a half-finished crossword by the armchair. Most of it is impressively wrong, but the handwriting is a match.” Skulduggery straightened up. “Out of those three possibilities, Valkyrie, which one would you dismiss first?”

Scrutinous stepped away to let them converse. It was always fascinating watching detectives work.

“I don’t think he’d accepted his fate,” Valkyrie said at last. “There’s nothing else here to suggest that he was preparing to die. There’s no note to family or friends, the dinner plate in the kitchen hasn’t been put away… He wasn’t expecting this.”

Skulduggery nodded. “Which leaves us with options two and three – he didn’t believe what he’d written, or he wasn’t aware he was writing it.”

Scrutinous picked up the newspaper by the armchair and glanced at the crossword. He wasn’t a fan of them, to be honest. There were enough confusing things in the world without crosswords.

“If Cassidy didn’t believe what he’d written,” Valkyrie said, “then why not tear out the page? This should be crumpled up in a bin somewhere, as just another bit of nonsense. But he didn’t tear it out.”