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chapel than a study, with its black marble floor and stained-glass windows. The furniture was solid and heavy, the desk a great block of wood that could have been an altar. Leather-bound books lined the walls, the shelves sagging under their weight. David knew he would be in serious trouble if he was found here. Nobody was allowed in this room unless summoned. But it was too late to turn back now.
    The light that he had seen came from a lamp on a chest of drawers that stretched the whole length of the room. David ran his eyes along the surface, past a tangle of test tubes and pipes, a stuffed rat, a human skull, a computer, a pair of thumbscrews and a German helmet from the First World War. He was puzzled. What, he wondered, was the computer for?
    But this was no time to ask questions. Vincent wasn’t in the room. That was all that mattered. He shouldn’t be here either. He had to go.
    It was as he turned to leave that he saw it. There was a small table in the far corner with a circular hole in the wall just above it. A picture lay faceup on the carpet nearby. A safe! Somebody had taken down the picture and opened the safe. Like a moth to a flame he moved toward the table. There were four sheets of paper lying on the top. David knew what they were even before he reached out and picked them up. He looked down at the front cover.
    GROOSHAM GRANGE EXAMINING BOARD
General Certificate of Secondary Education
ADVANCED CURSING
    He was standing beside the open safe, holding the exam papers, when the door crashed open behind him. With a dreadful lurching feeling in his stomach, he looked round, knowing that he had been set up, knowing that it was too late to do anything about it. Mr. Fitch and Mr. Teagle were there, wearing a bathrobe and pajamas. With them (and this was the only surprise) was Mr. Helliwell. He was fully dressed. All three men—or all two and a half—were gazing at him in disbelief.
    “David . . . !” Mr. Fitch exclaimed. His long, hooked nose curved toward David accusingly.
    “What are you doing here?” Mr. Teagle demanded. He was wearing a nightcap with a pom-pom dangling just next to his chin. He shook his head disapprovingly and the pom-pom swung back and forth as if in agreement.
    “I never thought it would be you, David,” Mr. Helliwell said. The voodoo teacher looked genuinely astonished—and sad. He turned to the heads. “I heard someone go into your office,” he explained. “But I never dreamed . . .”
    “You were quite right to come to us, Mr. Helliwell,” Mr. Fitch said.
    “Quite right,” Mr. Teagle agreed.
    “You can leave us now,” Mr. Fitch continued. “We’ll take care of this.”
    Mr. Helliwell paused as if he was about to say something. He glanced at David and shook his head. Then, with a quiet “good night,” he turned and left the room.
    Mr. Fitch and Mr. Teagle remained where they were.
    “Do you have anything to say for yourself, David?” Mr. Teagle asked.
    David thought for a moment. The bitterness of his defeat was in his mouth and he wanted to spit it out. But he knew when he was beaten. Somehow he had been lured into a trap. The portraits had tried to warn him, but he hadn’t listened and now it was too late to talk himself out of it. What could he say? The safe was open. The exam papers were in his hand. There was nobody else in the room. Trying to explain would only make matters worse.
    He shook his head.
    “Really, I am very disappointed in you,” Mr. Fitch said.
    “And I am disappointed too.” Mr. Teagle stroked his beard. “It’s not just that you were cheating. That would be bad enough.”
    “But you were caught cheating,” Mr. Fitch continued. “That’s even worse. How could you be so clumsy? So amateurish?”
    “And why did you even bother?” Mr. Teagle asked. “You would easily have come first in Advanced Cursing without stealing the papers. Now we’ll have to change all the questions. Completely rewrite the exam . . .”
    “The exam is on