Chapter FourTrevor guided his car up the serpentine driveway to the front of the stone administration building at Howard Hill Academy. He pulled to a stop and climbed out, donning his gray fedora and glancing at the pristine Rolls-Royce Phantom parked nearby. A uniformed chauffeur sat inside perusing The Times.
“The war certainly hasn't affected the owner of that beauty,” Trevor muttered. The last Rolls to be produced since 1939; it consumes petrol like a man dying of thirst. After a last look at the Phantom and an eye toward the dark, swollen clouds in the sky, Trevor hurried up the stairs. The morning had dawned overcast, and the weather worsened by the minute. It was going to be a nasty trip back to the station.
He pushed open the oak door and stepped inside. When his eyes adjusted t
