“That’s exactly what I saw, and just enough to get the gist of the plot. I must say, I was impressed. Perhaps you missed your calling.”

“Well, if the recession ever catches up with music teachers, maybe I’ll try Broadway or Hollywood.”

“Did you know I went to Herald?”

“No, I didn’t. I don’t expect it’s changed much since you were here.”

“Probably not. I have to tell you that I’m surprised the powers that be down there allowed the film to be made.”

“You baffle me, James. Why shouldn’t they allow it?”

“Did anybody from above read the script?”

“No, I guess not. I haven’t even read it myself.”

“You were the faculty adviser, and you didn’t read the script?”

“No, the boy who directed it came over all Woody Allen and insisted that the actors saw only the pages of the scenes they were appearing in. He was very secretive about the project. I wondered why, at first, but he assured me that there was no nudity, no sex, and only minimal, prep-school-boy bad language.”

“Ah, now I begin to get it.”

“Get what?”

“Well, after I saw the scene in our dean’s office, I filched the script from his secretary’s desk and read it.”

Now Ripley was getting worried. “Was there anything alarming in it?”

“Nothing that would alarm the general public, since it’s only a student film, but you should hope the headmaster never sees the film.”

“Why on earth should I be concerned about that?”

“You obviously don’t get it, Alan. The script fairly closely follows some real events at the school. It would have been before your time, of course—five or six years ago. I could see why you wouldn’t have known. I can also see why the student wanted to keep his film under wraps. I take it you haven’t seen the finished product.”

“No, the boy left school early, and he was still editing, I think. He promised to send me a DVD, but he hasn’t as yet done so.”

“Mmmm, yes.”

“James, exactly what real events does the film follow?”

“Well, as I said, it was before your time there, and after mine. I didn’t hear about this until I attended my tenth reunion. There was some talk about it at that time.”

“Go on.”

“Well, the rough outline is something like this: a master diddles a student, student drops out of school, hangs himself while allegedly doing that sex thing that’s supposed to generate an orgasm with partial asphyxiation—but suicide is a possibility.”

“Good God!”

“Hang on to your hat, my friend, there’s more.”

“The investigation is cursory—small-town Virginia police, you know, but back at Herald, the boy’s death brings attention to bear on a chemistry master. A few weeks later, the master is found dead in his study.”

“Dead how?”