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old fisherman said when he’d dropped us?
“I’ll be back in a couple of days.”
It had been Wednesday when we arrived. He might not return until the weekend. How many passengers would there be left waiting for him?
    “How about Eric Draper?” I asked.
    “What about him?”
    “He could be the killer. It would have to be someone strong to carry the globe up to the roof in the first place. Can you remember anything about him?”
    Tim laughed. “He was a great sport. I’ll never forget the last day of term when the seven of us pulled off his trousers and threw him in the canal!”
    “What?” I exclaimed. “You pulled off his trousers and threw him in the canal? Why?”
    “Well, he was the head boy. And he’d always been bossy. It was just a bit of fun. Except that he nearly drowned. And the canal was so polluted, he had to spend six months in hospital.”
    “Are you telling me that the seven of you nearly killed Eric?” I was almost screaming. “Hasn’t it occurred to you that this whole thing could be his revenge?”
    “But it was just a joke!”
    “You almost killed him, Tim! Maybe he wasn’t amused.”
    I stood up. It was time to go back to the house. The other three would be waiting for us … if they’d managed to survive the last half-hour.
    “I wish I’d never come here,” Tim muttered.
    “I wish you’d never come here,” I agreed.
    “Poor Libby. And Sylvie. And Janet. And Rory, of course. He was first.”
    We walked a few more steps in silence. Then I suddenly stopped. “What did you say, Tim?” I demanded.
    “I didn’t say anything!”
    “Yes, you did! Before you weren’t saying anything, you were saying something.”
    “I asked which side of the bed you wanted.”
    “No. That was yesterday.” I played back what he had just said and that was when I saw it, the pattern I’d been looking for. “You’re brilliant!” I said.
    “Thanks!” Tim frowned. “What have I done?”
    “Tell me,” I said. “Did Libby come first in anything at school? And was it … by any chance … geography?”
    “Yes. She did. How did you know?”
    “Let’s get back inside,” I said.
    I found Eric, Mark and Brenda in the drawing-room. This was one of the most extraordinary rooms in the house – almost like a chapel with a great stained glass window at one end and a high, vaulted ceiling. Rory McDougal had obviously fancied himself as a musician. There was even a church organ against the wall, the silver pipes looming over us. Like so many of the other rooms, the walls were lined with old weapons. In here they were antique pistols; muskets and flintlocks. All in all, we couldn’t have chosen a worse house to share with a mass murderer. There were more weapons than you’d find in the Tower of London and I just hoped that they weren’t as real as they looked.
    The three survivors were sitting in heavy, leather chairs. I stood in front of them with the organ on one side and a row of bookshelves on the other. Everyone was watching me and I felt a bit like Hercule Poirot at the end of one of his cases, explaining it to the suspects. The only trouble was, this wasn’t the end of the case. I was still certain that I was talking to the murderer. He or she had to be one of the people in the room.
    Somewhere outside, a clock chimed the hour. It was nine o’clock. Night had fallen.
    “Seven of you were invited to Crocodile Island,” I began. “And I see now that you all have something in common.”
    “We went to the same school,” interrupted Tim.
    “I know that, Tim. But there’s something else. You all got prizes for coming first. You’ve already told me that Rory was first in maths. Libby was first in geography…”
    “What’s this got to do with anything?” Eric snapped.
    “Don’t you see? Libby was first in geography and someone dropped a globe on her head. Someone told me that Sylvie Binns came first in chemistry and we think she was poisoned.”
    “Janet came first in French…”