Jessica turned away and Hawthorne listened to her footsteps growing fainter. He had an impulse to call to her, to keep her by his side. Then he wondered, What do I know about what’s rational and irrational in situations like this? All those years as an academic and working in treatment centers—they had been no preparation for what was happening at Bishop’s Hill. Wouldn’t Bennett be desperate? He had always thought of him as foolish and henpecked. But was he also sly and calculating? Surely if he had been embezzling money, then it was in his best interest to appear harmless.

The office door was open, although Hilda was nowhere in evidence. The red blinker was flashing on the answering machine. The first five messages concerned cancellations because of the weather—deliveries that couldn’t be made, a meeting that wouldn’t be held. The sixth was from Chief Moulton. “Call me as soon as you can, professor. I’ve got something to tell you.”

By now it was nearly five o’clock. Standing at Hilda’s desk, Hawthorne picked up the telephone. It was dead.

Hawthorne removed his coat, shook off the melted snow, and hung it over a chair. Stepping into his office, he smelled peppermint and almost expected to see Hilda appear out of a dark corner. Then his attention was taken by the computer on the table across from his desk. The screen saver showed different paintings by Leonardo da Vinci. Hawthorne couldn’t understand why the machine was on, since he had turned it off before leaving that morning. Then he noticed a scattered pile of diskettes. Nearing the table, Hawthorne saw the diskettes had been cut in half. Despite his shock, he was impressed by how neatly it had been done, as if someone had tidily destroyed them with garden shears. He took the mouse and clicked his way into the file manager program. Right away, he saw that all the Bishop’s Hill files had been removed, not only the students’ files but the payroll, expenses, budget, the financial records, everything he would need for the audit scheduled for Wednesday. Copies were in the bursar’s office, as well as in accounting, though those too might have been destroyed. Additional copies, however, were in his quarters, where he had a laptop.

Quickly Hawthorne returned to the outer office to get his coat. He needed to make sure that his laptop was safe. It contained the evidence about the pilfering and fake orders. No, not pilfering, thought Hawthorne, theft. And without that information the audit would be useless. As for Peter Roberts, the invisible student, a number of teachers remembered him from previous years, but there was no record of his ever having been at Bishop’s Hill.

Putting on his coat, Hawthorne hurried out the door of the office, only to bump into Fritz Skander, who was just entering. They both stepped back, startled.

“Thank God you’re safe,” said Skander. “I was terribly worried. How awful to be stuck out on Antelope Road and be forced to spend the night in your car. And with that girl as well. I should never have let you drive into Plymouth in the first place. Far too much confidence is placed in four-wheel-drive vehicles, if you ask my opinion. I was just coming to see if there was any sign of you.”

It occurred to Hawthorne that Skander was making these rather pointless remarks in order to give himself time to think. “I made it most of the way back. My car’s out near the end of the driveway.”

“And you’re not even wearing boots. Really, Jim, you’re hardly equipped for our New Hampshire winters. As soon as the snow stops I’ll have to take you into Plymouth and get you properly outfitted.” Skander wore a dark brown parka and an Irish fisherman’s hat. He began to unzip his coat. There were great lumps of snow on his boots. His cheeks were flushed and his smile had a fixed quality that struck Hawthorne as unusual.

“I’ve boots in my apartment. You were looking for me?”

“I must confess I was worried. Just last winter a fellow from Rumney froze to death when his car got stuck in a drift and he ran out of gas. Hendricks or Hennessy—I can’t recall the name. For a while I knew it as well as my own. But I was also hoping to catch dear Hilda. It seems that I missed her. I expect she marched off across the snow without even thinking of it. Native-born, of course—they never mind the snow.”

“Where are the students?”

“The ones who’re left have gathered over in Pierce with Alice. They’re toasting marshmallows and having a grand time.”

They were standing in the hallway. Skander removed his hat and shook off the snow. He continued to smile and his eyes seemed bright with pleasure.

“Have you been in my office?” asked Hawthorne.

“I just got here this minute.”

“Somebody destroyed my computer files on the school.”

Skander’s smile faded. “Good grief, how awful. You didn’t think I did it, did you?”

“I don’t know who did it.” Hawthorne recalled the smell of peppermint.

“Show me. What a dreadful thing to happen.”

Skander followed Hawthorne into his office. The lights flickered, dimming, then brightening again. Hawthorne pointed to the destroyed disks. “And the files have been erased from the hard drive as well.”

Skander seemed shocked. He picked up several of the floppies and turned them over. “This is a criminal act. It must have been the same person who wrecked Evings’s office.” He looked back at Hawthorne and his eyes were full of concern. “How dreadful for our friendship that we should come to distrust each other.”

“Surely you have to see that you’re a suspect.” Hawthorne didn’t take his eyes from Skander’s face.

“I know this is hard for you,” Skander said earnestly. “What with Clifford and Scott and those spiteful things old Pendergast told you. There’s nothing worse than conflicting stories. But believe me, I’m counting the minutes till the auditor arrives. Don’t worry, I won’t hold a grudge. You’re doing exactly what you should do. You need to get to the bottom of this. I’ve already explained that Pendergast had every reason to hate me. Who knows what other unsavory tricks he’d been playing.”

“Pendergast raped that girl,” said Hawthorne. “Even if she submitted willingly. And you became an accessory by not going to the police. It’s quite likely there’ll be charges against you.”

Skander put his hat back on. It was crooked and gave him a clownish aspect even though he appeared to be in pain. “The awful thing was that she was already dead. I knew I was taking a risk, but if the police had been brought in, it would have damaged the school tremendously. Of course, I was frightened, but there was no way to bring Gail back. A wonderful girl, in her own way. And so Pendergast was persuaded that it would be in the best interest of all concerned . . .”

“Did you persuade him?”

“I spoke to him but the actual decision came from someone on the board.”

“Hamilton Burke?”

“I’d rather not place the responsibility on his shoulders unless I absolutely must. You don’t know how hard it was for us all. But Mr. Burke was the one who came to me and asked if I would consider being interim headmaster. I must say I was flattered. Naturally, I had spoken to Mr. Burke on several occasions but I’d no idea that he had taken any particular notice of my existence. It was quite a step up for Hilda and me, though of course temporary. I had thought that Roger would get the appointment—he had lobbied for it quite actively—and I believe he was a tad disappointed. But there was some question about his wife, that Roger’s appointment, even if only for a short time, would give the school a greater church affiliation than a few board members thought prudent.”

Hawthorne considered how Skander’s explanations made everything even less intelligible. “Did you know that Burke was in negotiations with the Galileo Corporation to sell Bishop’s Hill?”

Skander tilted his head, as if he found Hawthorne’s question amusing. “You must see that the board has to engage in contingency planning. What if you’re not able to put the school back on its feet? Every month the interest on the loans comes due. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Burke wasn’t talking to half a dozen possible buyers. He hasn’t confided in me. But there’s always talk, of course, and believe me, the subject is upsetting to everyone. The closing of the school, the breakup of our little family. Is this what your meeting is to be about on Monday? No doubt it’s an excellent idea to have these matters discussed. For my part, I intend to do everything I can to make certain that Bishop’s Hill stays open.”