NOW IN PAPERBACK! Shenanigan Swift is headed to Paris, where new mysteries await in the hilarious, quick-witted sequel to Beth Lincoln’s #1 New York Times bestseller, The Swifts: A Dictionary of Scoundrels . “Abundant wordplay and humor will keep the pages turning.″ — Kirkus , starred review Now that the family reunion is over and the murderer has been caught, Shenanigan Swift can return to important projects, like searching for the long-lost family treasure. But trouble always finds Shenanigan, and when a valuable painting is stolen from Swift House by a group of eccentric art thieves known as Ouvolpo, she is determined to get it back—even if it means chasing them all the way to Paris. A new adventure is about to begin, and Shenanigan’s sleuthing skills will soon be tested like never before. A Gallery of Rogues is the highly anticipated sequel to Beth Lincoln’s celebrated debut, A Dictionary of Scoundrels . Beloved characters are back, joined by a fresh flock of relatives from the French branch of the Swift family tree—the Martinets, including Cousins Soufflé, Mercredi, Contraire, and Pomme. Get ready to say bonjour to more secrets, more bodies, and even more fun, in this delicious mystery that once again celebrates words, family, and plenty of shenanigans. A Kirkus Best Book of the Year ★ "In this second series entry, as delightfully hilarious and witty as the first, Shenanigan Swift learns she has family in Paris--the Martinet cousins--with whom the English Swifts have long been feuding. [A] comically flamboyant heist mystery." --Kirkus, starred review Praise for #1 New York Times bestseller, The Swifts: A Dictionary of Scoundrels Winner of the Nero Book Award for Children's Fiction An ALA Notable Book A Publishers Weekly Flying Start "Deliciously, quirkily Gothic." -- New York Times Book Review ★ "Knives Out feel by way of Lemony Snicket . . . A mystery that is as clever as its heroine." -- Publishers Weekly , starred review ★ "Positively writhing with twists." -- Booklist , starred review ★ "Lincoln's love of lexicon shines. A delightful pick for sharp readers enamored of gothic sensibilities and clever prose." -- Shelf Awareness , starred review ★ "The humor and action are spot-on." -- Kirkus , starred review "Lincoln whips up a witty confection of highly colorful characters, dynamic wordplay, and a plot dense with action, suspense, double-dealing, innovative murder weapons, and a well-orchestrated eleventh-hour reveal." -- The Horn Book Magazine " The Swifts celebrates the wonders of wordplay and the complexity of identity while serving up a compelling murder mystery and a twisty treasure hunt." -- BookPage Beth Lincoln was raised in a former Victorian railway station in the North of England. Her childhood fears included porcelain dolls, the Durham panther, and wardrobes that looked at her funny. She grew neither tall nor wise, and never learned to play an instrument—but she did write stories, a bad habit that has persisted to this day. When she isn’t writing, Beth is woodcarving, or making a mess of her flat, or talking the nearest ear off about unexplained occurrences. Her favorite things include ghosts, crisps, and weird old words like bumbershoot and zounderkite . The Swifts was Beth’s debut novel. It grew out of her love of etymology, the gleeful gothic, and classic murder mysteries. She lives in Newcastle upon Tyne with her partner and hopefully, by the time you are reading this, a dog. “Thank you all for coming,” said Fauna, pouring tea with one hand and replacing a peg with the other. She had a faint frown on her face; it made her look like her sister. “How are we today?”   She surveyed the circle of relatives. There was Aunt Schadenfreude, lounging comfortably with a battered paperback and some­thing green smeared all over her face; Cook, sleeves rolled to the elbows and her cropped hair streaked with motor oil; Phenomena, making notes in her journal; Maelstrom, squashed into his too-small chair with one of Fauna’s tiny Japanese teacups cradled in his hand; and finally, Shenanigan, coaxing some feeling back into her toes. The eldest of the Swift children was not present. Felicity was abroad, stay­ing in Paris for a few weeks with Flora and Daisy. She phoned, when she remembered, and peppered her conversation with little French phrases to show she was sophisticated now.   The only other resident of Swift House was John the Cat, and he was not present either, as he wasn’t very good at riddles.   “This had better be quick,” snapped Aunt Schadenfreude. “I was just getting to a good part of this very silly book.”   The book in question had an image of a woman on the cover, swooning in the arms of a muscular werewolf. Schadenfreude had re­ally dedicated herself to retirement. Cook had even bought her a pair of fluffy slippers, which Aunt Schadenfreude had insulted viciously and worn every day since.   “Noted,” said Fauna. “Cook? Maelstrom? You