year? I gather it’s some sort of stunt from the new headmaster, but no matter; we should be able to spot them easily, eh?”

“How do you figure that?” Henry asked, watching the outer reaches of the city fly past outside the large window. It was just his luck to have picked this compartment, he thought glumly.

“’Ent you never ’eard a com’nor talk?” Theobold mocked. “Or something like that. At least, that’s how the staff at the Easton School sounded.”

Easton. Henry was impressed in spite of himself. And he hardly needed more clues to piece together Theobold’s background. The family ring, the toff accent, the brother already at Knightley, and now Easton School; Theobold was practically royalty.

At that moment, a knock sounded on the compartment door.

“Come in,” Henry called, thankful for the interruption.

The door opened to reveal a boy with a thin, pale face topped by a cloud of brown curls.

“Oh, great, even here’s full,” the boy complained, offering an apologetic grin.

“Listen, chap, the rear compartments are bound to be empty,” Theobold said, his gaze lingering on an unusual necklace charm that glittered beneath the boy’s tie.

“What a party for me, an empty compartment,” the boy said, his smile wavering.

“I say, what’s that on your head?” Theobold asked, narrowing his eyes.

The boy clapped his hand to the top of his head as if embarrassed.

Henry stood up.

“There’s no room for my suitcase in this compartment anyway. I’ll join you in the rear,” Henry said.

“Really, Grim, you should stay,” Theobold said. “There’s no need to keep Mr.—I’m sorry, I’ve not caught your name—company.”

“Beckerman,” the boy said, sliding his hand back down to his side.

Theobold’s eyes narrowed into even smaller slits.

“Right guv’nor, I’ll be takin’ my leave ’bout now,” Henry said in his best impression of a city cabdriver. Hefting his suitcase, Henry followed the boy called Beckerman out into the narrow hallway.

“What was that about?” the boy asked.

“I’ll tell you later. I’m Henry, by the way. Henry Grim.”

“Adam Beckerman. Do you really think it’s empty in the back?”

“Possibly,” Henry said, following Adam, who had some kind of small, flat circular hat on top of his head.

“Well, that wasn’t the most polite greeting I’ve ever received,” Adam said wryly, stumbling a little as the train lurched forward.

“Unfortunately, he took to me quite well.” Henry rolled his eyes. “Probably would’ve booted me from the compartment once he realized I was one of those ‘ghastly common students,’ ” he finished, performing an impression of Theobold’s uppity accent.

Adam chuckled. “That’s not bad, Grim. So you’re the servant boy from the newspaper?”

“That would be me.”

“I’m, well, obviously I’m one of the students who were admitted late. The other boy looked a decent sort as well. Indian bloke.”

They reached the back of the car, and Adam flung open the door to the right rear compartment.

“Ahh, glorious space,” Adam said, heaving his two bags inside and onto the luggage rack. “Here, Grim, hand me yours. … Cripes it’s heavy.”

“Books,” Henry admitted sheepishly.

“No kidding? Which ones?”

“Mostly classics, but a few detective stories. I worked in a bookshop all summer.”

Adam hauled Henry’s bag onto the rack, and then collapsed onto the bench. “Your summer sounds loads better than mine,” he said. “I had to do accounting for my father.”

Henry looked up in surprise. “Your father’s a banker?”

Adam smiled. “Of course. What’d you think, I come from a family of costermongers down at the wharf ?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it at all, to tell the truth,” Henry admitted. “I don’t actually know anyone who’s . . .”

“Jewish?” Adam supplied.

Henry reddened. Was he so obvious?

“Don’t worry about it,” Adam said with a chuckle. “You’re not from the City, I take it.”

Henry shook his head. “The Midl’lands. Midsummer.”

“I’ve heard of it. They have that awful school there, the one full of snobbish boys who never get into Knightley.”

“That’s where I worked.”

“Didn’t you go to school?”

“Not really, no,” Henry said, grabbing two apples out of his hat and tossing one to Adam.

Adam smiled his thanks, shined the apple on his sleeve, and then took a bite. “But you passed the exam.” Crunch. “Whatcha mean, ‘no’?”

And so Henry explained. He told Adam about his life at the orphanage, the job at the Midsummer School, Professor Stratford, the exam, and getting fired. While Henry talked, the boys polished off an apple apiece. Then it was Adam’s turn. He told Henry about his father and brother being bankers, and how he’d secretly switched his extra math lesson at school for the fencing elective. Adam hated mathematics. He hated