"Nothing," he said. "It's great. Really. I'm thrilled for you."

"Don't lie to me, Harkat. Something's bugging you. What?"

He came out with it. "Doesn't this seem a bit… too coincidental?"

"What do you mean?"

"Of all the schools you could have gone to… all the teachers in the world… you end up at the one where your… old girlfriend's teaching? And in her class?"

"Life's like that, Harkat. Strange things happen all the time."

"Yes," the Little Person agreed. "And sometimes they happen… by chance. But other times they're… arranged."

I'd been unbuttoning my shirt, having slipped off my jumper and tie. Now I paused, fingers on the buttons, and studied him. "What are you saying?"

"Something smells rotten. If you'd run into Debbie in the street, that… would be something else. But you're in her class at a school where… you shouldn't be. Somebody set you up to go to Mahler's, someone who… knows about Murlough, and about your past."

"You think the person who forged our signatures knew Debbie was working at Mahler's?" I asked.

"That's obvious," Harkat said. "And that in itself is cause for worry. But there's something else we… must consider. What if the person who set you up didn't… just know about Debbie — what if it was Debbie?"

CHAPTER SEVEN

I COULDN'T believe Debbie was in league with the vampaneze or Mr. Tiny, or had played any part in setting me up to go to Mahler's. I told Harkat how stunned she'd been to see me, but he said she might have been acting. "If she went to all the trouble of getting… you there, she'd hardly not act surprised," he noted.

I shook my head stubbornly. "She wouldn't do something like this."

"I don't know her, so I can't voice… an opinion. But you don't really know her either. She was a child when you… last saw her. People change as they grow."