A long, black Chrysler sedan, polished to a mirror shine, turned slowly off the county road and crunched up the gravel drive. It moved with a quiet, expensive purr.

The car stopped before the main entrance. A man in a dark suit, the driver, got out and opened the rear door. The first girl emerged, smoothing her pleated skirt. Then another. They stood in a small, uncertain cluster on the gravel, clutching small suitcases, their backs to the watching boys.

The girls began to follow a waiting housemaster toward the Dean’s office. As they turned, one of them—a brunette with a sharp, curious face—glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes scanned the chapel, the trees, and for a fraction of a second, the dark archway.