Back at the house, Millie sped straight for the showers to wash her hair. Sloane Sykes went straight for the telephone. She called her mother and immediately began to cry.

“Darling, what’s the matter?” September fussed. “Why are you so upset?”

“I got into trouble with Miss Grimm. It wasn’t my fault. Millie said mean things about you and Daddy,” Sloane sobbed.

“Oh, sweetie, what did she say?”

Sloane began to wail even louder.

“Don’t you worry your pretty head about that nasty little brat. I’m so glad you called, though. I have something important to tell you.” Sloane’s mother smiled. “Your father’s not here, and that’s a good thing, because this is a special secret just between you and me. Septimus doesn’t need to know either, okay?”

“What is it, Mummy?” Sloane perked up.

“Did you know that if twenty-five percent of the boys at Fayle fail any test, the school has to close immediately?”

“Yes. Alice-Miranda told me that. She says everyone knows it. But the boys at Fayle don’t fail, and so nobody’s ever worried about that silly rule,” Sloane replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, sweetie, do you know what would happen to all that lovely land and those gorgeous buildings if the boys failed and the school had to close?”

“Yes. It gets sold off or something.” Sloane twisted a long strand of blond hair around her index finger.

“Well, yes and no. The school has to close immediately, but the land and the buildings go to the next living relative of the school’s founder—some fellow called Frederick Erasmus Fayle.” September was enjoying this.

“Big deal, Mummy. I don’t see what any of this has to do with us. We’re Sykeses, not Fayles.”

“I see what you mean. But did you know what Granny Henrietta’s surname was before she married Grandpa Percy?” September asked.

“No, Mummy. Why would I know that?”

“I don’t suppose you would.” The mother was toying with her daughter like a kitten with a string. “But I do.”

“Mother, get to the point. I have to go and paint my toenails,” Sloane snapped.

“Sloane, I have recently learned that your darling stepgranny was once known as Henrietta McGlintock Fayle. And guess what? She’s an only child.” September waited for Sloane to realize what she had just said.

Sloane was not impressed. “Yeah, so what, Mummy? Granny Henrietta gets the school if the boys fail—which they won’t, because they don’t.”

“But what if they did?” September lowered her voice. “What if they failed and Granny passed away? Work it out, sweetheart.”

Sloane pondered for a moment. “That would mean Fayle, and all those beautiful buildings, and all that lovely land would go to … oh … Daddy!” She cupped her hand to the telephone. “Oh my gosh, Mother, you’re a genius!”

“Thank you, darling.” Possibly for the first time in her life, September felt like a true genius.

“But, Mummy, the boys at Fayle don’t fail—not ever,” Sloane reminded her mother.

“Well, darling, you see, that’s where you come in.…”