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I took a detour first. I walked down High Street past a few residence halls—the map called them "colleges" for some reason that I didn't understand. I kept going until I got to the block that
included the Skull & Bones tomb.
A campus patrol car was parked at the curb about fifty feet away, almost directly across from a tall stone tower. An officer sat at the wheel.
The tomb the cop was monitoring was another damn fortress. Squat, blunt, brown, and, although I wouldn't have considered it possible, even more unwelcoming in design than Book & Snake. I
thought Skull & Bones looked more like an abandoned Civil War armory than any kind of fancy-pants secret society meeting hall.
Like Book & Snake, the Skull & Bones tomb was a
building that had apparently been designed to appear smaller than it really was. Unlike Book & Snake, the Skull & Bones tomb had at least two windows fronting the street—though the openings were such narrow
slits that their only worthwhile use would be as archer ports.
The law-enforcement arithmetic was simple enough—cops were posted in front of both Skull & Bones and Book & Snake, but
there was slightly more police interest in Book & Snake than there was at Skull & Bones.
What did that mean? Something, presumably.
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