James, who was still only in his first year at Eton, was the youngest member; he had been approached by a friend called Andrew Carlton, who was two years older than him. They had got to know each other in the previous half, as terms were called at Eton. Andrew had realised that James was a boy like himself, easily bored by the routine of school, who might like a little spice in his life.

It was easy to join the club. You simply had to make your way to this rooftop den at night without being seen. It had taken James a while to work out how to do it, but he had persevered, and this was the fifth meeting he had attended.

He soon spotted Andrew and he did a quick headcount of the others.

‘Five,’ he said. ‘Who’s missing?’

‘Gordon Latimer,’ said Andrew. ‘He’s always late. Probably fast asleep, knowing him.’

‘And what about Mark Goodenough?’ said James. ‘Isn’t he usually the first here?’

‘M-Mark’s not going to m-make it tonight,’ said Perry Mandeville, the founder and captain of the club. ‘He’s had some bad news, not bad news like so-and-so’s caught a cold or something, proper bad news, he’s cut up something rotten, m-most likely won’t m-make it again this half.’

Perry was a restless, reckless boy who was always urging the others to try ever more dangerous escapades. He could never sit still and his words tumbled out in such a mad rush that, as his brain fought to catch up with his mouth, it caused him to stammer.

‘What’s happened?’ said James, sitting down with his back against the wall.

‘His family has been lost at sea,’ said Perry, dramatically. ‘In the M-Mediterranean…’

‘Don’t be so sensational,’ said Andrew. ‘Nobody knows exactly what’s happened.’ He sat down next to James and handed him some chocolate. ‘They were sailing,’ he went on, ‘and their boat’s gone missing.’

‘Sounds m-much m-more exciting to say “Lost at sea”,’ said Perry, fidgeting. ‘Sounds like an adventure book, m-maybe they’re shipwrecked on a desert island, or something, or they’ve been eaten by sharks, they do have sharks in the M-Mediterranean, though not very big ones.’

‘Yes,’ said Andrew. ‘And it sounds rather like you hope they have been eaten by sharks.’

‘That’s not fair,’ said Perry. ‘M-Mark’s my friend.’

‘Precisely,’ said Andrew. ‘And this is real life, not a story. We were all kind to you when you had your break-in.’

‘What break-in?’ said James.

‘Happened last half,’ said Perry, ‘before you joined the society. Burglars broke into our house in London and stole a load of paintings, luckily m-my folks were away at the time, but one of the servants was pretty badly beaten and m-my m-mother and father are still fairly fragile about the whole thing.’

‘Exactly,’ said Andrew. ‘Well, imagine if they had been there at the time, and had got hurt. You wouldn’t think that was something to make fun of, would you?’

‘Sorry,’ said Perry. ‘But you m-must ad-m-mit, it does all sound rather exciting.’