"Quiet, please," said the guard at the entrance, holding his finger to
his lips disapprovingly. I continued into the Main Room, the little man
scurrying alongside me.
"Please," he pleaded, "think. Wasn't there _something_ in the book?"
Irked at his persistence, I was about to move on, when I remembered.
"Why, yes," I said, slowly. "There _was_ something. This." I fished the
bit of green paper from my pocket. He snatched it from me, uttered a
squeak of delight, and hurried away.
* * * * *
Relieved that this untidy business was finally done with, I decided to
forego Publilius Syrus for the day, since I was no longer in the mood
and I had some important papers to edit. So I returned to my home, a
rather large and comfortable room on the first floor of a converted
brownstone in lower Manhattan. I had no sooner settled down at my desk
when there came an urgent knock on my door. I slipped on my glasses and
opened the door. Imagine my amazement and irritation when the little man
from the library scuttled into the room. He hurried to the window and
pulled down the blind. Then he firmly removed my hand from the doorknob,
closed the door and locked it. He leaned against the door, facing me.
"There _is_ no 432 West 28th Street," he announced, angrily.
"The information does not impress me," I said. "How did you find out
where I live? And why?"
"I asked several of the librarians if they knew you. It seems they did.
And since you are listed in the telephone book, the rest was simple." He
held up the green slip of paper. "Was this ALL you found?"
Well, I thought, childishly pleased, at least I am not one of the
innumerable nameless faces that pour in and out of the library daily.
"What else was there supposed to be?" I asked pleasantly.
The little man sank into my favorite leather chair, almost disappearing
from view. He waved the slip of paper aimlessly. "There must be more to
it than this."
Despite his rudeness I found myself taking a liking to him. He was so
intense and so--frightened. "There _was_ a man," I said.
He leaped to his feet and clutched my coat. I believe he would have
tried to shake me had I not been a foot taller and fully fifty pounds
heavier than he. "What man!"
[Illustration]
"In the library. He indicated that book and said something to me."
He leaped onto the chair in his excitement and grasped my shoulders with
his hands. We stood thus eye to eye. "Please!" he begged. "Try to
remember! What did he say?"
"Perhaps you had better tell me what this is all about, Mr...?"
"Rumplestein. However, believe me, Professor Clarke, it is much better
if you do _not_ know."
I shook my head, displaying what my colleagues occasionally call a
streak of stubbornness. "You have upset me considerably. I feel I am due
some explanation."
"No! No! No!" He shook his little head vigorously each time.
"Then I cannot recollect what this man said to me."
He groaned in dismay and stepped off the chair to the floor. "Very
well," he said, finally. "You force me to reveal this." I waited
patiently. His head snapped erect. His body stiffened. "I am engaged in
a highly secret mission, the purpose of which is to prevent the collapse
of this city."