Thursday NICK CLOSED HIS EYES, FEELING THE SUN ON HIS FACE. AUTUMN was creeping nearer, but days like this made it easy to forget. The Posy Street market was a perfect place to spend such a stolen scrap of summer—all one needed was a few shillings and a pretty girl, and it would be perfect. But that just reminded him of Evelina, and his mood soured. “Are you coming or what?” Striker asked. Reluctantly, Nick trudged after Striker. The Schoolmaster had called a tribunal of some kind, and asked Nick and Striker to attend. Nick didn’t know what the matter was about and didn’t much care, but it couldn’t be good. He’d rather be at the fair—with or without a girl. There was a round tent in the corner of the marketplace, striped with black and white like something belonging to a circus. That thought made Nick smile as he ducked through the flap, but his amusement was short-lived. The inside of the tent was dim and stuffy, the heat of the day magnified by the trapped air. There were half a dozen men already there, including Black George.
