The Black Door by Collin Wilcox Page A

forbidden on campus?” someone asked.
    “Of course,” came the answer quickly.
    “How was it that the Grinnel girl could just drive off at ten-thirty at night?”
    Johnson seemed relieved at the question, for which he was obviously prepared.
    “Bransten College,” he said, “has always believed its students should have reasonable freedom. We expect our students to behave as responsible people, and that’s the way we treat them. We don’t have locks on our dormitory doors, and we don’t have monitors during our examinations. Our juniors and seniors live in private rooms, and they’re free to come and go as they like. Generally speaking, the system works—and works well. There are, of course, abuses. In every group of people, there are always a few who’ll act unwisely, no matter how many rules are made for their guidance.”
    His voice lowered to a more somber, more regretful note. “Now, all of you are acquainted with the conditions under which the body of Roberta Grinnel was discovered. Superficially, at least, it seems that Miss Grinnel was involved in a compromising situation at the time of her death. And, to be completely frank with you, we here at Bransten were aware of certain, ah, irregularities in her behavior, so that the situation in which she was found didn’t come as a complete surprise. However, we—” He hesitated, as if he’d momentarily lost the thought.
    “Then why wasn’t she expelled?” someone asked. “If she’d been expelled, she might not’ve been murdered.”
    As someone tittered at the question and Campion snorted outright, Johnson turned to regard the questioner, a bulldog type from a second-rate TV station.
    “That’s a matter of hindsight,” came the calm answer. “However, the fact is that Bransten College, while often being aware of unwise behavior on the part of its students, doesn’t feel that it has the power of censure, unless, of course, that behavior is a danger to the student or a nuisance to others. Now, you may disagree with that, sir. And, in that case, it’s your privilege not to send your children to our college.”
    The TV man reddened angrily. “Maybe her behavior was a danger to others, though. Suppose, for instance, she took a friend with her on her escapades—a girl? Wouldn’t you say that—that—?” He groped, then retreated to a belligerent platitude. “One bad apple spoils the barrel, you know.”
    Johnson was deft enough not to reply, and instead simply waited for another question.
    “Can you tell us, sir,” I asked, “whether or not the two Grinnel children, Roberta and Robert, saw much of each other during their time here at Bransten?”
    He thought about it before saying, “The boy, Robert, is a sophomore, so that we don’t, ah, know him as well as we did his sister. However, I think they saw each other in the normal course of student events. That is, I wouldn’t say that they went out of their way either to see each other or to avoid each other.” He smiled. “In other words, they behaved like most brothers and sisters I’ve observed.”
    “How would you evaluate the Grinnel children?” I asked. “Would you say that they were happy, for instance? Well liked?”
    He seemed surprised at the question, and for a moment looked at me with eyes that seemed suddenly very shrewd and perceptive. “I wouldn’t characterize either child as happy, particularly,” he answered carefully. “But neither would I call them especially sad. Roberta was a rather withdrawn girl, and kept mostly to herself. She was a very beautiful girl, as you know, and she seemed to have plenty of dates. She didn’t seem to have many girl friends, possibly because she had an extremely self-sufficient air. And I think, at least superficially, she was very self-sufficient.”
    “And the boy?” I prompted.
    “He’s a much different type. Robert—he’s called Bobby—needs more approbation from his peer group, to quote from the textbooks. And, to be