As the first rays of morning light speared across his bedroom floor, Max woke up. His cheeks and pillow were wet. Had he been having a nightmare or had he just woken up to one?

He still couldn’t believe that Mrs Thornthwaite was dead. His grandmother would be devastated. Everyone who worked for her – especially at Alexandria – was like family. Max hadn’t called Mim last night like he’d meant to. The finality of it all had hit him harder than he’d imagined – he just didn’t want it to be real. Perhaps he couldn’t bear to discover that Mim’s miraculous reappearance wasn’t real either – and his sister and Curtis were still in trouble too. Max didn’t want to think it was possible, but he knew better than that.

Autumn appeared in the doorway, dressed in her pink flamingo pyjamas.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

Max nodded, then shook his head and began to cry. Autumn hurried over and sat down, wrapping her arms around him.

‘Oh, Max, it’s so awful,’ she sobbed. ‘Poor Mrs Thornthwaite.’

When the group had reached the clinic the previous evening, there had been no sign of Dr Foster, but Mrs Thornthwaite had been lying on one of the hospital beds. She’d looked peaceful. Serene even. Max had checked for a pulse but he’d known right away. It was impossible to tell how she had died – whether as a result of her earlier injuries or if someone had got to her. He hoped that she’d just fallen gently into a forever sleep. Magoo had told them to treat the clinic as a crime scene and not to touch anything.

Autumn and Max consoled one another gently before Autumn let go.

‘What now?’ she asked.

Max dried his face with the sheet and shrugged. ‘At least we know Reff and Mr Frizzle are on our side.’ The pair were going to investigate whether other teachers had received a scarab. ‘We should go back to the clinic and look for clues.’

‘We should call Kensy and Curtis too,’ Autumn said.

Max agreed and reached for his phone.

Kensy answered on the fourth ring. She sounded much the same as she had last night, when Max asked how she was feeling, which was a worry. Surely she should be a little better by now? When he asked to talk to Curtis, she said he was asleep. Max decided not to tell her about Mrs Thornthwaite. She hadn’t asked, and if she was still so under the weather, then it wouldn’t help to say anything. But when he said he’d phone again later, she didn’t sound keen.

‘What’s the matter?’ Autumn asked.

‘I don’t know,’ the boy said. ‘Kensy just seemed . . . weird. She sounded like herself but she didn’t talk like herself – if you know what I mean.’

‘Should we try Mim?’ Autumn said.

Max nodded. He dialled the woman’s number but it went straight to voicemail. He rang the house phone at Alexandria, but no one answered that either.

‘What about Curtis?’ Autumn suggested.

Max frowned. ‘Kensy said he was sleeping. I’ll do it later.’ But he had a sinking feeling that things weren’t right. Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do about Kensy, Curtis and Mim right now, so instead of worrying about things he couldn’t change, he’d get on with trying to solve other parts of the mystery.

Last night, there had been no time for Mr MacGregor to look at Mrs Vanden Boom’s letters to see if he could find a code. Maybe they could take a look this morning before breakfast.

‘Meet you downstairs,’ Autumn said as she walked to the door. She’d slept in Kensy’s room next door.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’m getting dressed for school – I think we should go, even if it’s just for a little while.’

Autumn agreed. They needed to be present with their friends and hope that none of them or their families were part of the conspiracy. But the only way to know for sure was to show up.

‘Good morning, Mr MacGregor,’ Autumn said as she walked into the kitchen. The man was sitting at the island, his head buried in a pile of papers. He was scribbling notes then crossing them out again and didn’t seem to register that she was there. The bench looked like a bomb had gone off in a stationery shop.

Autumn walked to the fridge and poured herself a glass of orange juice before making some toast, which she spread with Marmite. Then she pulled up a stool at the clear end of the counter top.

Magoo wrote something down then gasped.

‘Are you all right, sir?’ she asked.

The man’s head jerked up.

‘Good heavens, Autumn, when did you come down?’ he said. Clearly he’d been in some sort of trance. Recently in class, Miss Ziegler had talked about the idea of flow – where you got so involved in what you were doing that the world around you seemed to stop.

‘A while ago, sir,’ she said, glancing at his notes. ‘Is that Mrs Vanden Boom’s resignation letter?’

The man nodded.

‘Have you found anything?’ she asked.

‘No, there’s nothing here,’ he snapped. ‘Tell Max not to waste any more time on it. We’ve got other paths to follow – although I have to say I’m not sure that we know where any of them start.’

Autumn had a feeling that the headmaster wasn’t tell her the truth. She glanced over at the papers, trying to see if there was anything there that made sense.

He shuffled the pages and piled them together.

Autumn finished her breakfast then stood up to take her plate and cup to the dishwasher.

‘I’ll put them in the bin if you like, Mr MacGregor,’ the girl offered.

‘I’ll take them,’ he said, and hopped down from his stool. His refusal only confirmed that he was lying. There was something in one of those letters that had caught him off guard. Something shocking that he didn’t want to share.

The headmaster passed Max on the stairs. Autumn heard the boy greet him but Magoo didn’t reply. It sounded as though he was muttering to himself, lost in his own thoughts again.

‘He’s in a strange mood,’ Max said, glancing back towards the staircase.

‘I think he found something in Mrs Vanden Boom’s notes,’ Autumn said.

‘What? Did he say so?’ Max asked.

Autumn shook her head. ‘It was what he didn’t say that was telling. I offered to put the papers in the bin but he took them. Hopefully he’ll leave them in the guest room.’

Max walked around to the other side of the kitchen and poured himself a bowl of cereal. He normally liked a cup of tea in the mornings, but it wasn’t the same without Song and his parents and Kensy there. Maybe he wouldn’t have one. He’d wait until they were all back together again.

‘Did he mention anything about Mrs Thornthwaite or Doctor Foster?’ Max asked.

‘No,’ Autumn said. ‘He was too focused on the letters.’

‘Are you two all right to get to school?’ Magoo shouted from upstairs. ‘I need to go in early. There are a few things I have to attend to urgently. I’ll send a message for you to come to the office once I’ve got everything under control.’

‘We’re fine,’ Max called. ‘We’ll see you there.’

‘Didn’t he ride his bike over here last night?’ Autumn asked.

‘No, he took a taxi,’ the boy said. ‘He must have ridden home to Chelsea then got a lift to the clinic and then another one here.’

Max stood up and walked to the screen on the kitchen wall. He looked at the camera by the front door and watched the man walk out to the footpath, where surprisingly he headed right. The quickest way to school was in the other direction. Where was Magoo off to? And why had he just lied?

‘Shall we have a look for those papers?’ Autumn asked.

Max finished the last few bites of his cereal and took his bowl to the sink.

‘Good idea,’ he said.