“Last night, one of your guests was killed,” he said to Dominique. “He’d arrived the day before and signed himself in as Arthur Ellis. He spent the day in Three Pines, asking questions. He seemed most interested in young men of the area. But Arthur Ellis had a secret. And like most people with secrets, he told a lot of lies.”

Gamache looked beyond the circle of chairs. To the one on the outside. To Tom Scott.

“This morning, while supposedly jogging, you found his body hanging from a tree. You called for help. But then you did something very curious. Actually, you didn’t do something. You didn’t try to get him down.”

“He was obviously dead,” snapped Tom.

“And yet most people would try,” said the chief. “It would be a natural reaction. Unless you already knew he was dead. And had been for some time.”

Gamache turned back to the room.

“Like most murders, this one was about secrets and lies. But hidden below all those lies was an emotion. Sorrow. A sorrow so great it turned into a monster. And that monster finally consumed the man.”

The chief paused. All eyes were on him. The only sound was the mumbling of the fire.

“And that is when Arthur Ellis was born. Or, rather, reborn.”

The people in the room looked at each other.

“What do you mean?” asked Angela.

“Arthur Ellis was not his real name. His real name was James Hill.”

Gamache watched them. Paul shifted in his seat. Angela blushed, of course. Mike poked the fire. Sue? She dropped her eyes and clutched herself even tighter.

“James Hill had lost his wife and child in an accident twenty years ago, when they were hit by a truck. No one was arrested. There was no trial or even an apology. No one was held responsible. And yet his wife and child were dead.”

Now they looked at each other, eyes darting from face to face.

“An injustice had been done,” said Gamache. “And James Hill, full of rage, came up with a plan. He would track down each and every person in that truck, and he would kill them.”

Gamache picked up the file from the table in front of him.

“Over the years, he tracked down two of them. They were found hanged.”

“Psycho,” said Tom Scott.

“But why did he change his name to Arthur Ellis?” Dominique asked.

“Arthur Ellis was the alias of Canada’s official hangman,” said the chief inspector. “James Hill used the same alias when he was on the trail of his next victim.”

“Oh, God,” said Angela. Mike sat and put his arms around her.

“There is a murderer in this room. A person who has been involved in at least three deaths. The young Hill family, twenty years ago, and now the murder of the father. James Hill.”

“But you say he came here to kill someone,” said Paul. “Who?”