The Rose of Fire by Zafon Carlos Ruiz

Author:Zafon, Carlos Ruiz [Zafon, Carlos Ruiz]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harper Collins, Inc.
Published: 2012-06-25T16:00:00+00:00

3

Cast against the light from the street, the silhouette resembled a tree trunk lashed by the wind. The visitor sported a dark, old-fashioned suit and presented a grim figure as he leaned on his walking stick. He took one step forward, limping visibly. The light from the small lamp on the counter revealed a face lined by age and the unmistakable trace of misfortune. The man stared at me for a few moments, sizing me up unhurriedly. He had the cold eyes of a bird of prey, patient and calculating.

‘Are you Señor Sempere?’

‘I’m Daniel. Señor Sempere is my father, but he’s not in right now. Is there anything I can help you with?’

The visitor ignored my question and began to wander around the bookshop examining everything in detail with almost covetous interest. The limp affecting him suggested that the wounds concealed beneath those clothes must have been quite severe.

‘Souvenirs from the war,’ said the stranger, as if he’d read my thoughts.

I kept my eyes on him, following his inspection tour through the bookshop, suspecting where he was going to drop anchor. Just as I’d imagined, he stopped in front of the ebony and glass cabinet, a relic dating back to the shop’s origin in 1888 when Great-grandfather Sempere, then a young man recently arrived from his fortune-seeking adventures in the Americas, had borrowed some money to buy an old glove shop and turn it into a bookshop. That cabinet, crown jewel of the shop, was reserved for the most valuable items.

The visitor drew close enough to the cabinet for his breath to leave a trail on the glass. He pulled out a pair of spectacles, put them on and proceeded to study the contents. His expression made me think of a weasel examining freshly laid eggs in a chicken coop.

‘Beautiful piece,’ he murmured. ‘Looks pricey.’

‘A family heirloom. Its value is mostly sentimental,’ I replied, feeling uncomfortable at the assessments of that peculiar customer whose gaze seemed bent on costing even the air we were breathing.

After a while he put his spectacles away and spoke in a measured tone.

‘I understand that a gentleman, well known for his wit, works for you.’

When I didn’t reply immediately, he turned round and threw me a withering look.

‘As you can see, I’m on my own. Perhaps, sir, if you would kindly tell me what book you’re after, I could try to find you a copy, with pleasure.’

The stranger granted me a smile that was anything but friendly and then nodded.

‘I see you have a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo in that cabinet.’

He wasn’t the first customer to notice the book. I gave him the official sales patter we reserved for such occasions.

‘The gentleman has a very good eye. It’s a magnificent edition, numbered and with illustrations by Arthur Rackham. It belonged to the private library of an important collector in Madrid. A unique piece, and catalogued.’

The visitor listened without interest, focusing his attention on the consistency of the ebony shelves and making it clear that my words bored him.

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