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Barnard found a door in the wall on the other side of the room and, opening it, switched on the lights. He stepped into a room lined floor to ceiling with bookcases. There were tables with books, books set in stacks on the floor so that one had to walk a narrow path through the room, books spilled across a sofa, and several more volumes piled haphazardly on a narrow table with an antique lamp next to a wing-backed reading chair.
The air was close with the scent of old paper and cracked leather bindings. Barnard pulled a book off a shelf at random and carefully turned the pages. He stood beneath the chandelier in the center so that he could read. He called for Peter and when he came into the room, Barnard read, “‘To test a witch if she be lying, procure a segment of her tongue and place it lengthwise in a skillet over burning coals’… can you believe this stuff?”
“What’s that?”
Barnard flipped to the frontispiece of the book. “‘Malleus Maleficarum’,” he read. “The Witches Hammer. I’ve never seen one of these. They’re incredibly rare.”
“It won’t be worth much after you’ve finished wiping your oily fingers all over it. Put it back.”
Barnard narrowed his eyes but slipped the book back onto the shelf, making a mental note of its location. The titles next to it were just as intriguing. Witchcraft wasn’t necessarily his cup of tea, but he adored old books as much as any writer and the thought of being able to peruse the entire collection one book after another filled him with excitement.
The Yellow Scarf Page 2
