Not that we were going to see much today. The clouds were so low that the cars at the top almost seemed to disappear into them. You could see the Houses of Parliament on the other side of the river and, hazy in the distance, St. Paul’s. But that was about it. If there was a single day in the year when it wasn’t worth paying ten dollars for the ride, this was it, which would explain why there were no crowds around when we approached: just Rodney Hoover and Fiona Lee, both wearing raincoats, waiting for us to arrive.

There was no sign of Lenny Smile, but I wasn’t surprised. I had known he would never show up.

“Why are you calling us?” Hoover demanded. “First we have the police accusing us of terrible things. Then you, wanting to see Lenny. We don’t know where Lenny is! As far as we know, he’s dead . . .”

“Why don’t we get out of the rain?” I suggested. “How about the wheel?” It seemed like a good idea. The rain was still bucketing down and there was nowhere else to go.

“After you, Mr. Hoover . . .”

We bought tickets and climbed into the first compartment that came around. I wasn’t surprised to find that there would only be the four of us in it for this turn of the wheel. The doors slid shut, and slowly—so slowly that we barely knew we were moving—we were carried up into the sky, into the driving rain.

There was a pause as if nobody knew quite what to say. Then Fiona broke the silence. “We already told that ghastly little policeman . . . Detective Chief Inspector Snape. Lenny was with us that day. He was killed by the steamroller. And it is Lenny buried in the cemetery.”

“No it isn’t,” I said. “Lenny Smile is right here now. He’s on the big wheel. Inside this compartment.”

“Is he?” Tim looked under the seat. “I don’t see him!”

“That’s because you’re not looking in the right place, Tim,” I said. “But that was the whole idea. You said it yourself last night. We all thought Lenny Smile was one thing, but in fact he was something else.”

“You are not making the lot of sense,” Hoover said. His face, dark to begin with, had gone darker. He was watching me with nervous eyes.

“I should have known from the start that there was something strange about Lenny Smile,” I said. “Nothing about him added up. Nobody—except you—had ever seen him. And everything about him was a lie.”

“You mean . . . his name wasn’t Lenny Smile?” Tim asked.