The Library Paradox by Catherine Shaw Read Free Book Online Page B

as they left it.’
    ‘True, true,’ he said, quickly putting the papers he had spread out on the floor in front of the window back into a neat pile. Then he changed his mind. ‘Well, it’s not likely they’ll have memorised the exact order of every paper, is it? I don’t suppose it matters much. I’ll look at them drawer by drawer. Dear me, look at this – most interesting! Quite a collection of copies of original documents from the Spanish Inquisition! Notes from a trial, here. Not surprising, I suppose,’ he added, leafing through an article he had discovered, and looking as pleased as a cat with a saucer of cream. ‘Yes, I suppose that makes sense, with his interests, doesn’t it? Most interesting, this,’ and he continued reading busily. Within a few minutes he was utterly absorbed. It did not seem that he was going to be much of a disturbance to me after all.
    Quietly, I picked up the few sheets from the floor and began to peruse them. One contained a careful outline of a lecture, and a couple of others contained a list of what looked like possible topics for dissertations. Besides this, there wasa letter in French addressed to Professor Ralston, and a final sheet, which appeared to be the beginning of an answer to this letter. I picked it up quickly, my heart beating. It seemed likely that this was the very last thing he ever wrote.
    Dear Lazare,
    I have received your news. Surely you realise that vague nonsense concerning rumours of a lost or found ‘petit bleu’ is unlikely to have the slightest effect on the Affair. If the thing really exists, which appears highly doubtful to me, it is almost certain to be a forgery …
    I could not help imagining the professor seated at his desk, writing these lines with a pinched expression on his face, pausing for a moment to consider his next words … and hearing a knock at the door.
    Picking up the letter in French, I read it carefully. It was extremely short, and from what I could judge, the tone seemed to be aggressive, almost accusatory. However, it was too telegraphic in style for me to be able to understand what it referred to.
    Vous allez pouvoir arrêter vos agissements. Un nouveau document est apparu, cette fois définitif; il s’agit d’un petit bleu trouvé au même endroit que le bordereau, mais cette fois avec mention explicite d’un nom: celui du vrai coupable. La justice suivra son cours.
    Bien à vous. B.L.
    ‘Do you know what this is all about?’ I asked Professor Taylor, carrying the letters over to where he knelt upon the parquet.
    ‘Eh? What’s that?’ he said, emerging with difficulty from the profound concentration inspired in him by the yellowed articles into which he was plunged.
    ‘Look at this,’ I said, pushing the documents under his nose. ‘Do you have any idea what it is all about?’
    ‘I’ve often wondered how a detective works,’ mused the professor unexpectedly, paying no attention to the papers I was holding out to him. ‘I mean, there must be such a wealth of information; far too much, one would think. Just look at all the papers in this room. Looking for a clue is like looking for a needle in a haystack, isn’t it? And the talking with people – why, what can one hope to discover by talking with my colleagues, for instance? I mean, I know them all very well, and can already imagine everything they will probably say. And I must say I can’t see what use any of it could possibly be in elucidating Professor Ralston’s death.’
    His words distracted me momentarily from Lazare’s letter.
    ‘It is hard to explain exactly how I proceed,’ I admitted, quelling the slight feeling of worry that his words aroused in me. ‘I really don’t know just what I am trying to do. Maybe the best description would be that I form a picture in my mind of what constituted the normality of the situation I am investigating, and once I have developed a clear enough picture, I notice anything that stands out, and restrict myselfto