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Chapters (93)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Prologue
  4. Chapter 1
  5. Part One
  6. Chapter 1
  7. Chapter 2
  8. Chapter 3
  9. Chapter 4
  10. Chapter 5
  11. Chapter 6
  12. Chapter 7
  13. Chapter 8
  14. Chapter 9
  15. Chapter 10
  16. Part Two
  17. Chapter 1
  18. Chapter 2
  19. Chapter 3
  20. Chapter 4
  21. Chapter 5
  22. Chapter 6
  23. Chapter 7
  24. Chapter 8
  25. Chapter 9
  26. Chapter 10
  27. Chapter 11
  28. Chapter 12
  29. Part Three
  30. Chapter 1
  31. Chapter 2
  32. Chapter 3
  33. Chapter 4
  34. Chapter 5
  35. Chapter 6
  36. Chapter 7
  37. Part Four
  38. Chapter 1
  39. Chapter 2
  40. Chapter 3
  41. Chapter 4
  42. Chapter 5
  43. Chapter 6
  44. Chapter 7
  45. Chapter 8
  46. Chapter 9
  47. Part Five
  48. Chapter 1
  49. Chapter 2
  50. Chapter 3
  51. Chapter 4
  52. Chapter 5
  53. Chapter 6
  54. Chapter 7
  55. Chapter 8
  56. Chapter 9
  57. Chapter 10
  58. Chapter 11
  59. Part Six
  60. Chapter 1
  61. Chapter 2
  62. Chapter 3
  63. Chapter 4
  64. Chapter 5
  65. Chapter 6
  66. Chapter 7
  67. Part Seven
  68. Chapter 1
  69. Chapter 2
  70. Chapter 3
  71. Chapter 4
  72. Chapter 5
  73. Chapter 6
  74. Chapter 7
  75. Chapter 8
  76. Chapter 9
  77. Chapter 10
  78. Chapter 11
  79. Part Eight
  80. Chapter 1
  81. Chapter 2
  82. Chapter 3
  83. Chapter 4
  84. Chapter 5
  85. Chapter 6
  86. Chapter 7
  87. Chapter 8
  88. Chapter 9
  89. Epilogue
  90. Acknowledgments
  91. Reading Group Guide
  92. About the Author
  93. Copyright

“To clear Harry’s name?” Eric gave a scornful laugh. “Grow up, Straits, for God’s sake. You always were such a bloody child. Dan Dare, and Boy’s Own Paper. What, did you think you could solve the crime? Unmask the villain in the final act, then home in time for lemonade? What good did Harry’s box do you? What did he leave you with but a joke?”

There was nothing more to say. I stood up and left without a word. Outside, the air was cool and sweet; and smelled of bonfires, and burning wood, and the bitter snap of fireworks.

Part Eight

PART EIGHT

Fides punica.

—CICERO

Chapter 1

1

November 4, 2005

Mischief Night, it used to be called. The day before my birthday. Traditionally, a time put by for schoolboy pranks, and practical jokes, and the settling of scores. How many times did Eric and I fling eggs at the door of a Master’s house, or hang a fish from a clothesline, or leave a turd on the doormat?

But Mischief Night is a thing of the past. Nowadays, the youngsters favor a peculiarly Americanized version of Halloween, moving in gangs from door to door, demanding sweets with menaces. In the old days, Halloween was the time the dead broke free. The gifts were meant to placate them; to stop them consuming the living. As I grow older, I realize how easy it is to be consumed. The dead walk in November, and they are not always kind.

We all have our ghosts. Those people we may have loved—or not, but for whom we feel responsible. My parents. Harry Clarke. Colin Knight. Lee Bagshot. And now, Charlie Nutter, whose middle name—Wenceslas—he managed to hide so completely from both his peers and his Masters during his time at St. Oswald’s, and whose ghost still appears as that thin, nervous boy I overlooked so easily . . .

And Eric. Dear old Eric Scoones, companion of my schooldays. Eric who has always been there—or at least, somewhere nearby. Eric, who, if not lovable, was always so predictable: a part of my life, just as he was always a part of St. Oswald’s. Why was Eric so quick to believe that Harry Clarke was guilty? What did he know—and how did he know? Could Harry himself have told him?