“I’m afraid he can’t, dear,” said Aunt Zelda. “A new bowl would not belong. It couldn’t communicate with the others. You see, they are all from one original piece of ancient gold.”

“Ah . . . Cloned gold.”

“Gnomed gold?” asked Aunt Zelda, whose hearing was not as good as it had been.

“Cloned. Each one belongs to the other. Like identical triplets. Oh!” Septimus suddenly realized what he had said. He glanced at Jenna.

The shock at the disappearance of the third bowl had put all thoughts of Wolf Boy’s brothers out of Jenna’s mind. But now she was glad to think of something else for a while. She nudged Septimus. “Go on.”

“Ahem,” said Septimus nervously. Suddenly, it seemed such a big thing to tell Wolf Boy.

The little cottage fell silent. Aunt Zelda stared mournfully at the fire.

“Triplets,” said Jenna, trying to get Septimus to speak.

“Weird. Don’t you think?” said Wolf Boy.

“What’s weird?” Jenna asked.

“Triplets. Twins. People being identical.” Wolf Boy shook his head. “I dunno why, but whenever I see twins or triplets it always gives me a peculiar feeling. Right here.” Wolf Boy pushed his fist against his stomach. “Something about people looking the same, I guess.”

Septimus and Jenna exchanged glances. Tell him, Jenna mouthed.

Wolf Boy was a good lip reader. “Tell him what?” he asked suspiciously.

Septimus looked at Wolf Boy. “Um. There might be another reason why you feel like that.” He pushed his fist against his stomach just as Wolf Boy had done.

“Yeah?” said Wolf Boy, picking up a bowl and twirling it to catch the reflections from the firelight.

“Identical triplets,” said Septimus. “I mean . . .”

Wolf Boy put the bowl down and stared at Septimus, puzzled. “What?”

Septimus floundered. “Well, some people actually are triplets but they don’t know they are but even so they still kind of know deep down because even though they can’t remember it they were together once I mean so close together you can’t imagine it and so that’s why they get this weird thing when they hear about triplets and . . .”

“You all right, 412?” Wolf Boy asked.

“Yep. Fine.”

Jenna could bear it no longer. “Sep, just tell him straight.”

Wolf Boy looked worried. “Tell him what straight?” he asked.

Septimus took a deep breath. “You are an identical triplet. We’ve found your brothers—well, Beetle has. He went to the Young Army Record Office. And there are two more like you: 410 and 411.”

“Jeez.” Wolf Boy slid down to the floor with a bump.

Septimus grinned. “I suppose you’re the lost bowl,” he said.

“Swallowed by the python,” Jenna added.

Aunt Zelda looked up, shocked. “Swallowed by the python? Who?”

“It’s all right, Zelda, no one’s been swallowed by the python,” Wolf Boy said gently. “But it seems . . . wow, it’s so weird . . .” He grinned. “It seems I got two brothers. Just like me.”

“Oh, yes, so you have. I forgot.” Aunt Zelda smiled.

“You knew?” asked Septimus.

“I remember now. There were two boys at your fourteenth birthday party. They worked in a cave place . . . what was its name?”

“Gothyk Grotto,” Jenna supplied.

“That’s it, dear. I thought at the time, Wolf Boy, that your voices sounded so alike. But it slipped my mind.”

“Two more of me . . .” Wolf Boy was muttering.

Septimus could not stop smiling. “Yep, two more of you. Except they’ve got less hair. And they’re not so thin. And they are really pale compared to you.”

“That’s right,” said Aunt Zelda, pleased that she could at least remember this. “At the party—you were sitting opposite them, Wolf Boy dear.”

“Opposite?” said Wolf Boy, shocked.

“They’re really nice,” said Jenna.

“Yeah. Yeah . . .” Wolf Boy mumbled.

“You could do a lot worse,” said Septimus. He was an expert in long-lost brothers.

Wolf Boy shook his head. “Yeah. I know. I really liked them. Matt and, er, Marcus, yeah?”

“That’s right.”

Wolf Boy put his head in his hands. “It’s . . . it’s so horrible.”

Jenna glanced anxiously at Septimus. “What’s horrible?” she asked, putting her arm around Wolf Boy’s shoulders.