The Widening Stain by W. Bolingbroke Johnson

Author:W. Bolingbroke Johnson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penzler Publishers
Published: 2020-06-20T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter XI

ON FRIDAY morning, as soon as Library good form permitted, Gilda went to Dr. Sandys’s office. She had an idea.

Dr. Sandys was sitting slouched in his desk-chair, staring out the window. His morning mail lay before him untouched, like a bad child’s breakfast.

“Good morning, Dr. Sandys.”

“Good morning, Miss Gorham.”

“If you will permit me to be disagreeable, you aren’t looking very well, Dr. Sandys. You look tired. Aren’t you sleeping well?”

“Oh yes, I’m sleeping all right,” said Dr. Sandys, wearily. “Just a little worried, perhaps.”

“About that hoax?”

“Yes. That hoax. And other things.”

“Well, I was thinking about the hoax. We assumed, without question, that the mysterious sixth commandment was patched into the film, unless the boy made the whole thing up. There is at least one other possibility: that the commandment was written on the fly-leaf of the manuscript, and was properly photographed with the rest. I think we ought to take a look at the manuscript.”

“That is true. Perhaps we should. Suppose we do it immediately.”

Dr. Sandys seemed glad of a reason for action. He unlocked a drawer of his desk with a key from his key-container. He took from the drawer a Yale-type key, attached to a small block of wood.

The two proceeded to the ground floor of the Wilmerding. Gilda glanced at the second-hand of her wrist-watch. The time from the Librarian’s office to the Wilmerding was twenty-six seconds.

They crossed the Wilmerding to the locked press in the bay of the south side. Dr. Sandys turned his key in the lock and pulled open the heavy grilled door.

Gilda pointed with her finger and made a queer gobbling noise, half scream, half an effort at speech.

Inside the door, sitting on a chair, was Professor Hyett. His shoulders had slid a little sideways, and rested in the angle formed by one of the projecting uprights of the book-shelves and an extra-illustrated set of Casanova’s Memoirs. His noble-Roman head leaned forward in a reverent attitude. His face was gray. The wispy white hair on his skull stood up with an air of comic surprise.

Dr. Sandys sprang to his side, pulled open the coat, and burrowed beneath it with his hand.

“This is too much,” he said, inadequately. “This is too much.”

“Is he dead?”

“Yes. Stone cold.”

“But how?”

“Maybe a stroke. A heart attack or something. I don’t see any blood.”

“This is a case for the police. I’ll go and call them.”

“Come to my office. There’s no reason to rouse the whole catalogue room.”

The two left the locked press. Dr. Sandys slammed the door, and the spring lock engaged. He removed the key.

“How did he get into the locked press?” said Gilda.

“I don’t know. There are only two keys: this one and the Assistant Librarian’s. But if that were missing, Mr. Dickson would have reported it to me immediately. At any rate, the police will no doubt find a key on him.”

“No doubt.”

“This is too much,” said Dr. Sandys.

He called the police station and was connected with Lieutenant Kennedy. He told his story briefly. The telephone rasped; the Lieutenant was probably very angry.

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