"John?" "You came quick." "They said it would only be a matter of hours." "Aye." "His elevens are up." "I beg your pardon?" "His elevens." "Flesh on the back of his neck standing out like the number eleven." "That's the mark of death - I know it well." "He won't last the night..." "That's my opinion." "I imagine you has expectations, eh, missus?" "Of moving in here, when the master's gone?" "Well." "We have...an understanding." "My uncle has always led me to believe that the estate will be divided equally between my cousin John and myself." "Oh, aye?" "Though it's in very poor taste to discuss such things." "At a time like this." "He won't mind." "The old devil!" "Mrs Goundry!" "Oh, I know he's a parson, but he's the very devil!" "I should know." "Slaving and doing for him all these years." "Still." "He's got a reckoning coming soon, in't he?" "With the Almighty." "Or someone else." "Mary?" "Mary, is that you?" "Yes, Uncle." "It's me." "Is there anything that you need?" "I'm dying, Mary." "Come closer, Mary." "There's something you must know..." "Long time since your last visit, sir." "Yes, indeed." "I have here the title of a book." "A book I... want." "The light is very bad, you see, and to go traipsing up and down stairs at my time of life," "I wonder..." "I quite understand, sir." "I find it a daily trial myself." "Oooh, you should hear my knees when I bend down." "Yes, yes..." "Like pistol shots." "I wonder, is there anyone who could go and find the book for me?" "Eh?" "Um..." "Ah, just the fellow." "One of our students, sir." "Paying his way through the university." "Mr Garrett!" "Yes." "Have you a minute to help this gentleman?" "With pleasure, Sniffer." "Eh?" "Um..." "Mr Hodgson." "Gentleman here's after a book." "Well, he's come to the right place." "Right, "Talmud:" "Tractate Middoth." ""The commentaries of Nachmanides, Amsterdam, 1707."" "And what's that when it's at home?" "It's a collection of Hebrew writings, Mr Hodgson." "Oh." "Very exotic." "I think I can find this easily enough." "Oh, I suppose it's that edition you want?" "That and no other." "If it's no trouble." "None at all." "Much obliged, I'm sure." "Won't be a moment." "Well?" "I'm so sorry." "The book's out." "Out?" "Are you sure?" "Well, I saw a gentleman take the book off the shelf." "A gentleman?" "What... ..what was he like?" "Oh, shortish." "In a sort of cloak." "Old-fashioned." "Like a priest." "If you don't mind waiting, he'll be down in a minute." "I'm sure he'll be here in a bit and maybe he'll let you have the book." "No, no." "I won't..." "I..." "I can't wait now, thank you." "No." "Train, you see." "I must catch..." "I'll be back." "Tomorrow." "Yes, tomorrow." "All right." "I'll have it ready if..." "Shouldn't have left it so late, should he?" "Something the matter, chum?" "Oh, no." "Not really, George." "Just that I feel such a bloody fool." "Oh?" "A gentleman was after this book." "I told him it was out and here it is." "Large as life!" "My mistake." "Funny, though." "Hmm?" "I've not seem him come down." "Did you see him?" "Old man in a cloak, bald, had the look of a vicar?" "I fear I was too immersed in the Apocrypha of the Book of Daniel, chum." "Well." "You've found it now." "I'm sure our customer will be back for it in his own good time." "What's that?" "Yes." "I've noticed that too." "Last couple of days." "I assumed it was your..." "Not guilty." "Ready rub." "Doesn't smell too healthy, does it?" "Hmmm..." "Dust?" "Hmm, rum sort of dust." "Ah!" "Early start today, sir?" "You have it?" "You have the book?" "You're going to think me a bit dim, Mr...?" "Eldred." "Why?" "What's happened?" "What's...wrong?" "Well, it hadn't been taken out at all!" "If you don't mind waiting, I'll go and fetch it now." "Oh, sorry." "Excuse me." "Are you..." "Will you be taking out that book?" "It's just that there's a gentleman downstairs who's very keen to borrow...that.." "This is intolerable!" "Sir?" "Is it a long way to that part of the library?" "Hm?" "Where our friend is?" "Oh." "Well, well..." "I was thinking myself it was a bit funny." "That young fella's very swift as a rule." "I'll just see if I can conjure him up." "I beg your pardon?" "On the telephone, sir!" "Ah, is Mr Garrett up there with you?" "You what...?" "And..." "Oh, dear..." "Right." "Well, thank you." "Well, I'm sorry to tell you, sir, but something seems to have happened that's a bit awkward." "Mr Garrett's had an attack." "You mean something... someone has injured him?" "Oh, no, no, nothing like that." "No, it seems he was taken poorly, and sent home out the back." "I see." "Not a strong constitution, that young lad, I'd say." "Now, sir, as to your book, perhaps you might be able to find it yourself?" "We don't want you disappointed twice now, do we?" "No, I think I'd rather wait." "These old legs of mine, as I say." "I'll..." "I'll make other arrangements." "'You thought you saw something?" "'" "I did see something." "Go on." "That smell of dust, the one you mentioned?" "Yes?" "It was very strong..." "Perhaps you got a lungful and it caused you to take a tumble?" "No, no." "It was something I saw." "You don't mind this?" "Oh, no." "Mother says it's pretentious of me, but I don't know." "Gives one a certain distinction, don't you think?" "Like Stewart Granger or someone." "Sorry." "Go on, something you saw." "Oh, sorry." "Will you be taking out that book?" "It's just that there's a gentleman downstairs who's very keen to borrow...that..." "'Trick of the light." "No.'" "The dust, as I say, got on your chest and gave you a funny turn." "No, George, I know what I say and it nearly did for me." "So, what are you saying it was?" "A ghost?" "Never heard old Sniffer say the place was haunted." "Nor me." "I don't mean to seem uncharitable, chum..." "But you don't believe me." "Well." "Things like that just don't happen any more, do they?" "Which suggests you believe that once, they did?" "We used to think the sun moved around the Earth." "And that the moon was made of green cheese." "Maybe it is." "If I were you, I'd take the chance to get away for a while, old son." "Change of air always works wonders." "What about the seaside?" "Or somewhere in the country?" "Read a few books, eh?" "Rather than just cataloguing them." "I've a couple I could lend you." "Fully illustrated." "No, thanks." "Think about it - fresh air, nice pubs, pretty girls." "Toodle-oo." "Course it's all go, go, go these days." "I can recall the charmingly, leisurely charabanc excursion to Formby beach when I was a slip of a thing and quite a spread was laid on." "But one was content with fish paste then, wasn't one, Mr Tallyround?" "These young people and their ideas, traipsing all over the Continent." "I don't see the point." "I mean to say they could go to Morecombe, or Lytham, for prices such as that." "Or I dare say, at a push, Llandudno, but that wouldn't do for us, would it, Mr Tallyrond?" "But Burnham, now, charming and lovely scenery and very, very reasonably priced." "Do you have anywhere to stay?" "Yes, I'm being met." "Oooh." "'Burnham, Burnham!" "'" "Oooh, here we are." "Cases, Mr Tallyrond." "Tickets, please." "What is it?" "Ohhh, of course, oh, silly me!" "Oh, where have I put the dratted thing?" "Of course, in more refined days, one concealed the unused portion in one's glove." "I haven't, have I?" "Mr Tallyrond..." "Hurry, please, would you?" "Do you have my ticket remnant?" "Sorry, it's just that I'm not feeling very well." "I'm very sorry, I'm sure." "It's just that I'm not quite myself." "Well, there's no need to be impertinent." "I wasn't." "Good manners cost nothing, do they, Mr Tallyrond?" "I didn't mean to offend you." "It's just as I was saying - everyone's in a hurry, hurry, hurry." "No refinement, no grace." "Only the other day, I was forced to open a hotel door on my own volition..." "I can't thank you enough." "You've been so kind to me." "What did the doctor say, Mr Garrett?" "Oh, just overwork, that's all." "Nervous strain, my...my memory's a bit foggy too." "Lots of rest, that's what I need." "Well, we're quite empty at this time of the season." "So it's very nice for us to have some company." "It's a lovely room, Mrs Simpson." "I feel I'm in very good hands." "What do you do for a living?" "I work in a library." "Oh." "Cataloguing, research..." "That sort of thing." "Helps pay my way through university." "We're not so keen on books, are we, Mum?" "Oh, no, no, no." "They're fine places, libraries." "Fine." "But?" "Well..." "Perhaps he could solve our puzzle." "You see, there's a book..." "We don't want to bother Mr Garrett with our silly problems, Anne." "No, no, I'd love to help, if I can." "Really, I would." "And if it's to do with a book, well..." "I'm in a pretty good position, aren't I?" "Yes, I suppose so." "But we don't even know the name of the wretched thing." "Well." "What's it about?" "We don't know that, either." "Except that we don't think it's in English, do we, Mum?" "Don't suppose that's much of a clue." "I'll tell you the story." "That's the best way." "You seem a kind soul." "I'm all ears!" "This is going back some 20 years or more, mind." "Back in the '30s." "I had an old uncle." "A Dr Rant." "'He wasn't a distinguished man." "'And not a nice one, either." "'He was a priest.'" "Though I'm sure I don't know how he got to be one." "He never did any duty, as far as I could tell, in the late part of his life." "And he wasn't what you'd call Christian in his ways." "He hadn't any wife or family, only one niece, that's me, and one nephew, my cousin John." "Though he didn't really like either of us." "Uncommonly warm, Uncle, for this time of year." "You can feel the chill setting in, though, John." "Autumn's coming." "A pair of prize beauties, aren't you, eh?" "Eh?" "Sitting there like crows waiting to peck my eyes out!" "Really!" "And stick your fat fingers into my pockets." "We shall see." "We shall see." "'And there he was, all alone in the world and rich...' as Croesus." "Well, now." "One autumn, Dr Rant became ill." "And they sent for me to nurse him." "'Come closer, Mary." "'There's something you must know...'" "I've made my will in John's favour." "Well, it's your money, Uncle Thomas." "You can do what you like with it." "No, but listen, Mary..." "I'm not very fond of John and I've made another will in your favour." "What do you think to that?" "Oh." "You can have everything, Mary." "Everything." "If you can find the will, that is." "Only..." "I don't mean to tell you where it is." "I wrote the will in a book, Mary." "A printed book!" "It's not in the house, it's in safekeeping, elsewhere." "Now..." "I want to start you both off on the same terms." "John has a bit of purchase, as he can go where the book is." "But I'll tell you two things he doesn't know." "First, the will's in English... ..though you won't know that if you ever see it." "And the other thing..." "This... ..Will help you find it..." "..if you have the wits to use it, that is." "Not to be trusted, missus." "That's what I say." "Whatever he said." "Whatever he promised you." "Twisted, he was." "Twisted." "Where others had a soul, he had a corkscrew!" "Don't trust him." "In life... or death." "Of course, I tried to speak with John Eldred, tried to appeal to him, but he didn't want anything..." "What is it?" "It's...the..erm...the name rings a bell, erm..." "Anyway..." "You were saying, Mrs Simpson, you wrote to him?" "Yes." "But he didn't pay any attention at all." "Since then, he has enjoyed his inheritance while Anne and I have had to take in ruddy lodgers." "Although I must say, that hasn't been nearly as unpleasant as I'd thought." "Do you think your cousin's got any more of a clue about the name of the book?" "I often thought he must do." "People tell me he's always being seen around booksellers and libraries." "I suppose he must have discovered which books are missing from my uncle's library, but were entered in his catalogue." "And he's hunting them down." "Hmm?" "(Oh, come on, think.)" "Which is it?" "Which is it?" "The Talmud." "Of course." "That was it." "The Talmud!" "The Tractate Middoth!" "Countryside not to your liking, son?" "No, no, no, it's not that." "Ah, I'm not surprised." "I'm a martyr to pollen myself." "Listen. 11.3.34." "Is it out?" "Has it gone out?" "11.3.34?" "Do you remember that number?" "I see a lot of numbers, Mr Garrett!" "Yes, I know..." "An awful lot." "All right, then, has a Mr Eldred called again?" "Uh?" "The gentleman who called the day I was...taken ill." "Eldred..." "Yes!" "Come on." "You must remember him." "Er...no, no, he's not been in again." "Not since you went off on your hols." "Right." "But no need to." "He wrote, you see." "Requesting his book." "He wrote?" "Sent a money order to cover it." "A bob over the price of a parcel, as a matter of fact." "He's sent for the book?" "Yes." "It'll be going down by train this morning." "No time." "There's very little time." "Eh?" "Mr Hodgson, could you show me the ticket and his address, please?" "Happy to." "Ah, yes, there's the ticket on the file." "J Eldred." "Uh-huh." "11.3.34." "Title of work..." "T-A-L..." "Talmud, yes!" "Tractate Middoth!" "Not a novel, I should hazard a guess." "No." "He refers to it as a "Trac..."" "Yes, the address, Mr Hodgson." "Hurry, please!" "Ah." "Now." "If I made a mistake in this whole transaction, it's that I failed to take down the gentleman's address in my little book." "And no, no, I don't keep all the addresses in my head, otherwise what would be the point of my little book?" "Damn." "When did the parcel go off from here?" "Half past ten." "It's just one now." "Oh!" "What?" "The donations list!" "The Talmud was given to the library, wasn't it?" "There might still be a record!" "Right..." "Ah, there it is, Bretfield." "You want me to come with?" "No." "No, no..." "Don't want to spoil your evening." "Cynthia, is it?" "Cynthia, yes." "Good luck." "And you, chum." "Help!" "Help!" "Help!" "Hurry, please!" "Did you see what happened?" "I saw it." "Mr Eldred was reading his book." "Then his face come over all...black." "He must have had a fit or something." "Yes." "Yes, that must have been it." "Yes." "That must have been it." "Hmmm." "This isn't like any Hebrew I've ever learned." "Are you sure it is Hebrew?" "What?" "Yes." "Yes, I suppose..." "No." "Hang on..." "Hang on." "Where is it?" "Ah!" "Here it is." "Look, clever old bugger." "There's some names here, and a date." "20th of July, 1933." "Dr Rant and the witnesses!" "You are perfectly right, chum - this isn't Hebrew at all, it's English." "And it's a will!" "Shhh!" ""Mr Justice Passmore concluded," ""I declare that this is indeed a will of Dr Thomas Rant," ""bequeathing the whole of the property lately held" ""by Mr John Eldred to Mrs Mary Simpson of Burnstow." ""Clearly, the discovery of this document would more than" ""justify Mr Eldred's agitation and, I have no doubt, hastened his end." ""As to the partial tearing of the book, well..." ""Let us be charitable."" "So, that's that." "Right, I must be getting back." "But you will come again soon?" "Certainly." "If I may?" "Whenever you want." "I'll walk you to the station." "'Twisted, he was." "Twisted.'" "Where others had a soul, he had a corkscrew!" "'Don't trust him." "'In life... 'or death.'"