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found unsettling.
    I tried to think clearly. It was not as though the whole thing were fabricated. The notes on the pad were based on the actual talk that evening, though Brian’s words had been twisted to sound worse. So information must have come from one of those present, and presumably someone who wanted to get me into trouble. Not Brian. Not Martin or Roland. Then who?
    Suddenly I remembered catching sight of Gary as I left the classroom. Could that have been a look of triumph on his face?
    There had always been some resentment, but it had been more in evidence recently. Although he had gone out in the speedboat with me, he had not been able to resist occasional snide remarks. Then there had been his jealousy over Miranda. Could he have figured out this way of getting back at me? The more I thought about it, the more certain I was.
    I cried, “Gary Jones, isn’t it?” They looked at me in silence. “It was Gary Jones told you all this. But it’s all lies!”
    The brawny one said, “We’re not interested in Gary Jones. It’s you we’re interested in. And you’ll be a lot better off telling the truth.”
    Knowing it was Gary, I felt better. An enemy you can identify is easier to cope with than the unknown. And that reassurance put the whole thing in different perspective. Even if they refused to call Mr. Richie in now, they could not keep him out of things indefinitely. For that matter, my father would soon be back in touch, and I could imagine his fury when he found out how I had been treated.
    Everything would be properly gone into, not in a little office room with two idiot policemen but under the scrutiny of the council. And when thathappened, the truth must come out, because others who were present at the party would be called as witnesses. They would testify I hadn’t said anything.
    I felt sorry for Brian, who if he wasn’t already in trouble would probably be in it then. But the real load was going to fall on Gary; he was in for it once the truth came out. I didn’t feel sorry for him, though I did feel contempt along with anger. He had been a fool as well as treacherous.
    For my own part, I needed do nothing but wait. I said, “I’m not saying anything. Call Mr. Richie. I’ll talk if he’s present, not otherwise.”
    Some of my contempt—for these two as well—may have shown in my voice. The red-haired policeman spoke for the first time, in a thin, dry voice: “We aren’t going to get anything out of him at this stage.”
    The other gave a questioning look and got a nod in reply. He pressed a button, and the duty officer came in from the corridor.
    He said, “All right. Take him away.”
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    On the ground floor I was handed back to the man who had brought me from school. There was a hitch then—something to do with the police car—and Inoticed a public visiphone not far from the main desk. I went toward it, feeling in my pocket for a coin, but my escort called me back.
    â€œWhat do you think you’re doing?”
    â€œJust making a call.”
    â€œNot allowed. Come back here.”
    I shrugged and obeyed. There were telephones at school which I could use to call Mr. Richie. The delay made no real difference.
    As the car pulled away from the police building, I thought about Gary. True enough, he would get it in the neck when this was sorted out, but I wasn’t in the mood for waiting that long. I felt very much like pitching into him the moment I got back into the classroom. No, I decided—better wait till after school. I didn’t want any interruptions.
    We turned a corner, and I said, “You’re going the wrong way.”
    He did not answer, though he had clearly heard me. I was more curious than anything else. The route we were taking led to my father’s office, where Mr. Richie worked. Perhaps they had had the sense to change their minds and