The Oxford Fellow

When Denton hears there’s a fellow missing from Oxford, it takes him a while to grasp that “fellow,” in this instance, means some sort of academic character, and not, you know, a fellow. A bloke. Never mind: He’s very happy to set off for Oxford and a spate of poking around. It will be a holiday, a peaceful sojourn, he imagines, among the hushed libraries and the famous dreaming spires. It will be so different from frantic, filthy London, muscling its way into the 20th century. 

Not exactly. Those dreaming spires hide nightmares as wicked as anything to be found in London’s back alleys. He stumbles in particular into the web of vicious rivalries otherwise known as the School of Archeology, hatreds rooted in the discovery—just thirty years ago—of the ancient city of Troy. Grisly suicides, terrifying curses, threats of eye-popping violence…it’s the stuff of penny dreadfuls. No wonder the fellow has disappeared; Denton wouldn’t mind following his lead and hopping a train back to London.