Chapter 38

An acquaintance I ran into on the street took great pleasure in trying to ferret out the details of what had gone on at Thorny Walk House all those years ago.

“Synclaire! I say, old chap, rum go about the family manse. Hear it was King Tut, striking back from the grave! A-haw, a-haw, a-haw! Is that so?” He was avid in his desire to learn every bit of gossip.

Well, so was just about everyone in Town, even four years later. Even in Canada, articles of the curse of the Boy King had cropped up in the newspapers.

“I wasn’t here at the time, Jeffries,” I said as coolly as I could. “I could hardly say.”

“Just so, just so.” He seemed disappointed. It was only as an afterthought that he continued, “Oh, by the by, so sorry about your brother.”

“I’ll pass your condolences on to my father.”

He gave a tight smile and hurried off.

It was the same thing, from every man who stopped me. The bloody, bedamned bastards.