while they went in search of the book. Derry stayed to keep me company, but couldn’t seem to contain his own anxiety. Producing a pipe from somewhere in his coat, he puffed away on it as he bounced back and forth between our bench and the door. We waited in silence for ten minutes, then managed some desultory conversation for another twenty before Derry finally dropped down beside me with a worried grunt. “What can be keeping them?”
“I can find out.”
As I got up, Derry grabbed my arm. “I’ll go.”
Succinct for Derry. He probably thought I was going to lose my cool and get Henry and Ezra fired. Chances were, I would. Intending to give Derry five minutes, I looked at my watch, to remember it wasn’t working. Instead I counted off the minutes. It kept me from storming the place.
When Derry finally came back, my vague fears took on a more substantial form. He laid a hand on my shoulder and confessed the book had been misplaced.
I bit back what people even in my time would consider unacceptable language and started for the door. Derry ran to catch up. “Morgan, please. Mr. Brooke will sack them both with very little provocation. You must let Henry and Ezra hunt it up. They know where to look.”
“So where are they?”
“In the reading room. It’s a slow process, so we’ve a little time to kill. I know where there’s a coffee house—”
“Where is the reading room?”
“They won’t let you in without a ticket.” His attention flickered to where he knew my gun was holstered. “And you cannot force your way in. There’s always a constable about, somewhere.”
“Do you have a ticket?”
“Be sensible, lad.”
“Just let me borrow it.”
“You can’t ask that of me. If we’re caught—”
“We won’t be.” I held out my hand. “Give me five minutes. I’ll bring it back, safe and sound.”
Derry looked uneasy, but he produced the ticket. “They’ll never let you in. Not in those clothes.”
I took off my jacket and wheedled Derry out of his coat. It was a little large on me, but gave me the bookish look I wanted. I headed down a narrow corridor, showed the ticket to a dubious official at a desk, and pushed through a padded door into the reading room.
The dim, musty library I was expecting turned out to be something far different. The room was constructed on a grand scale, designed to impress. A blue and gold dome stretched high above me, the windows that circled it sending down shafts of sunlight to illuminate tier upon tier of books. Despite the considerable number of people—mostly middle-aged and elderly men—who occupied the long tables radiating from the center of the room like wheel spokes, a somber, respectful hush rested over the place. Only a few heads lifted to take a look at me as I scanned faces in search of Ezra’s. Those who noticed me seemed to conclude I wasn’t alien enough to worry about and returned to their work.
At the hub of the wheel, I spotted Ezra bent over a waist-high bookshelf, scribbling on a scrap of paper. I cleared the space between us without attracting any more attention and, coming up behind him, gave him a poke in the ribs. “Hey, what the hell is going on?”
Startled, he sucked in an exasperated breath. “How did you get in here?”
“This.” I showed him Derry’s ticket and he promptly snatched it out of my hand.
“For heaven’s sake. You can’t use his ticket. They’ll revoke it and he won’t be allowed in again.”
“No one’s going to find out,” I retorted with equal parts annoyance and guilt. “What happened to the book?”
“We’re looking for it.”
“Where’s this Brooke fellow?”
“Upstairs. Henry talked to him, and apparently Mr. Brooke passed it off to another cataloguer who may or may not have shelved it already. Henry’s asking around.”
“Who’d he give it to? Did you talk to
“I can find out.”
As I got up, Derry grabbed my arm. “I’ll go.”
Succinct for Derry. He probably thought I was going to lose my cool and get Henry and Ezra fired. Chances were, I would. Intending to give Derry five minutes, I looked at my watch, to remember it wasn’t working. Instead I counted off the minutes. It kept me from storming the place.
When Derry finally came back, my vague fears took on a more substantial form. He laid a hand on my shoulder and confessed the book had been misplaced.
I bit back what people even in my time would consider unacceptable language and started for the door. Derry ran to catch up. “Morgan, please. Mr. Brooke will sack them both with very little provocation. You must let Henry and Ezra hunt it up. They know where to look.”
“So where are they?”
“In the reading room. It’s a slow process, so we’ve a little time to kill. I know where there’s a coffee house—”
“Where is the reading room?”
“They won’t let you in without a ticket.” His attention flickered to where he knew my gun was holstered. “And you cannot force your way in. There’s always a constable about, somewhere.”
“Do you have a ticket?”
“Be sensible, lad.”
“Just let me borrow it.”
“You can’t ask that of me. If we’re caught—”
“We won’t be.” I held out my hand. “Give me five minutes. I’ll bring it back, safe and sound.”
Derry looked uneasy, but he produced the ticket. “They’ll never let you in. Not in those clothes.”
I took off my jacket and wheedled Derry out of his coat. It was a little large on me, but gave me the bookish look I wanted. I headed down a narrow corridor, showed the ticket to a dubious official at a desk, and pushed through a padded door into the reading room.
The dim, musty library I was expecting turned out to be something far different. The room was constructed on a grand scale, designed to impress. A blue and gold dome stretched high above me, the windows that circled it sending down shafts of sunlight to illuminate tier upon tier of books. Despite the considerable number of people—mostly middle-aged and elderly men—who occupied the long tables radiating from the center of the room like wheel spokes, a somber, respectful hush rested over the place. Only a few heads lifted to take a look at me as I scanned faces in search of Ezra’s. Those who noticed me seemed to conclude I wasn’t alien enough to worry about and returned to their work.
At the hub of the wheel, I spotted Ezra bent over a waist-high bookshelf, scribbling on a scrap of paper. I cleared the space between us without attracting any more attention and, coming up behind him, gave him a poke in the ribs. “Hey, what the hell is going on?”
Startled, he sucked in an exasperated breath. “How did you get in here?”
“This.” I showed him Derry’s ticket and he promptly snatched it out of my hand.
“For heaven’s sake. You can’t use his ticket. They’ll revoke it and he won’t be allowed in again.”
“No one’s going to find out,” I retorted with equal parts annoyance and guilt. “What happened to the book?”
“We’re looking for it.”
“Where’s this Brooke fellow?”
“Upstairs. Henry talked to him, and apparently Mr. Brooke passed it off to another cataloguer who may or may not have shelved it already. Henry’s asking around.”
“Who’d he give it to? Did you talk to
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