Detective Faraday and the Silent Bell

The midnight bell at St. Dunstan’s did not ring.
Reginald Faraday was pulled from sleep by a rapping at the window. It was half past four. Outside, London lay hushed and wet, its streets glistening with fog and lamplight. A boy in the square below delivered the summons. The vicar wanted him at St. Dunstan’s. Urgently. Quietly.

In the vestry, Sir Horace Penbury looked merely asleep. But his skin told a different story. Poison leaves traces, and the doctor wasn’t convinced it was a natural death. Stranger still, the church bell had failed to strike at midnight. The sexton swore it was no accident. It was a curse. Reginald promised to discover the truth.

And he was not working alone. Percival Faraday was once London’s most brilliant detective. Now dead, his soul is bound to Reginald. Together, they work hand in hand, the living and the dead, solving crimes as London sleeps.

This time the puzzle is one of family curses, locked doors, and a midnight bell that should have tolled. In London, silence can be deadly.