“But that means . . .” Eric had gone pale. “I came in first in history.”

“I came in first in sports,” Mark said.

Brenda nodded. “And I came in first in music.”

We all turned to look at Tim. But he couldn’t have come in first in anything . . . could he? I noticed he was blushing. He licked his lips and looked the other way.

“What did you come in first in, Tim?” I asked.

“I didn’t . . .” he began, but I could tell he was lying.

“We have to know,” I said. “It could be important.”

“I remember . . .” Brenda began.

“All right,” Tim sighed. “I got first prize in needlework.”

“Needlework!” I exclaimed.

“Well . . . yes. It was a hobby of mine. Just for a bit. I mean . . .” He was going redder and redder. “I didn’t even want the prize. I just got it. It was for a handkerchief . . .”

The idea of my sixteen-year-old brother winning a prize for an embroidered hankie made my head spin. But this wasn’t the time to laugh. Hopefully I’d be able to do that later.

“Wait a minute! Wait a minute!” Eric said. He looked annoyed. Maybe it was because I was younger than him and I was the one who’d worked it out. “I came in first in history—and you’re saying I’m going to be killed . . . historically?”

“That’s what it looks like,” I said.

“But how . . . ?”

I pointed at the wall, at the flintlock pistols on the wooden plaques. “Maybe someone will use one of those,” I said. “Or there are swords, arrows, spears . . . that bear upstairs is even holding a blunderbuss. This place is full of old weapons.”

“What about me?” Brenda whispered.

“You’re not an old weapon!” Tim said.

“I came first in music.” Brenda glared at the organ as if it was about to jump off the wall and eat her.

“But who’s doing this?” Mark cut in. “I mean . . . it’s got to be someone in this room. Right? We know there’s nobody else on the island. There can’t be anybody hiding. We’ve searched everywhere.”

“It’s him!” Brenda pointed at Eric. “He never forgave us for throwing him in the canal. This is his revenge!”

“What about you?” Eric returned. “You once said you were going to kill us all. It was in the school yard. I remember it clearly!”

“That’s true!” Mark said.

“You used to bully me all the time,” Brenda wailed. “Just because I had pigtails. And crooked teeth.”

“And you were fat,” Tim reminded her.

“But I didn’t mean it, when I said that.” She turned to Mark. “You said you were going to kill Tim when he set fire to you in chemistry class.”

“I only broke three of his fingers!” Tim interrupted.