Excerpt from The Convictions of John Delahunt by Andrew Hughes, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

After some consideration I've come to look upon the notion of Armstrong's mould with less dread, though the thought of my face encased still causes a shiver. The cast of one's head is an interesting relic. The idea of being preserved for future study also appeals: to be labelled and catalogued, stored and retrieved, admired and pored over by scientists not yet born.

I recall when I was six or seven years old stealing into my father's study in Fitzwilliam Street, darkened in his absence to protect his books from the sun. I drew one shutter ajar, enough to allow a rectangle of light to fall upon the writing desk, and took down a column of faunal studies. There I stood, fascinated by the exquisitely etched plates of various animal specimens in jars of embalming fluid: lizards, birds, and even a tiger cub. Soon after, I came upon a fallen fledgling in our stable-lane: a specimen of my own. Believing the agent of preservation was simply a well-stoppered jar of water, I pilfered one from the kitchen. I gathered the tiny form and placed it into the receptacle, dunking it when it began to bob. I even labelled it: 'Baby sparrow, Lad Lane, March 1825'. Naturally, when I checked on it a week later I was distressed at the putrid soup that had resulted. The sense memory of that odour still causes a turn.

My cast should prove a neater artefact. Certainly better than an entry in a burial ledger; better even than a tombstone. I can't help but ponder its fate. Shall I sit as a curio on a high shelf in a dark oak study, a source of nightmare for Armstrong's grandchildren? Perhaps the doctor possesses a whole collection of criminal crania that line the walls of a special room, and I'll remain in stony-faced congress with my fellows for decades—until a clumsy maid nudges the shelf and tips my replica into oblivion. The promise of this unusual preservation buoys me slightly. Still, I admit to hoping that Helen does make some effort at claiming me. She will need the support of the few remaining Delahunts to wrest my remnants from the government's possession, and that will be impossible. Her lonely petition will be in vain.

Excerpted from The Convictions of John Delahunt by Andrew Hughes. Copyright © 2015 by Andrew Hughes. Excerpted by permission of Pegasus Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.