He did not want
to be interrupted by the housekeeper or the odd man.
Then he went back to the library and pulled the cupboard to
behind him. It moved quite easily into place. He wanted to have a
look at the bookshelves; for he was curious to know whether the
cupboard was actually all of one piece with the section of
bookshelves as it seemed to be. He was prepared to find that the
books were merely library dummies, but no! He tried half a dozen
shelves at random, and every book he pulled out was real.
Desmond was not easily baled, and he determined to scrutinize
every shelf, of this particular section in turn. With the aid of
one of those step-ladders folding into a chair which you
sometimes see in libraries, he examined the topmost shelves but
without result. He took down in turn Macaulay 's History of
England, a handsome edition of the works of Swift, and a set of
Moliere without getting any nearer the end of his quest.
The fourth shelf from the top was devoted to a library edition of
Shakespeare, large books bound in red morocco. Desmond, who, by
this time was getting cramp in the arms from stretching upwards
and had made his hands black with dust, pulled out a couple of
volumes at hazard from the set and found them real books like the
rest.
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