'My interests? Why, I—' But at the last moment, even as Crow teetered on the point of revealing that he, too, was a student of the esoteric and occult – though a white as opposed to a black magician – so he once more felt that chill as of outer immensities and, shaking himself from a curious lethargy, noticed how large and bright the other's eyes had grown. And at that moment Crow knew how close he had come to falling under Carstairs' spell, which must be a sort of hypnosis. He quickly gathered his wits and feigned a yawn.
'You really must excuse me, sir,' he said then, 'for my unpardonable boorishness. I don't know what's come over me that I should feel so tired. I fear I was almost asleep just then.'
Then, fearing that Carstairs' smile had grown more than a little forced – thwarted, almost – and that his nod was just a fraction too curt, he quickly continued: 'My interests are common enough. A little archaeology, paleontology ...'
'Common, indeed!' answered Carstairs with a snort. 'Not so, for such interests show an enquiring nature, albeit for things long passed away. No, no, those are admirable pastimes for such a young man.' And he pursed his thin lips and fingered his chin a little before asking:
'But surely, what with the war and all, archaeological work has suffered greatly. Not much of recent interest there?'
'On the contrary,' Crow answered at once. '1939 was an exceptional year. The rock-art of Hoggar and the excavations at Brek in Syria; the Nigerian If e bronzes; Bleger's discoveries at Pylos and Wace's at Mycenae; Sir Leonard Woolley and the Hittites ... Myself, I was greatly interested in the Oriental Institute's work at Megiddo in Palestine. That was in '37. Only a bout of ill health held me back from accompanying my father out to the site.'
'Ah! — your interest is inherited then? Well, do not concern yourself that you missed the trip. Megiddo was not especially productive. Our inscrutable oriental friends might have found more success to the north-east, a mere twenty-five or thirty miles.'
'On the shores of Galilee?' Crow was mildly amused at the other's assumed knowledge of one of his pet subjects.
'Indeed,' answered Carstairs, his tone bone dry. 'The sands of time have buried many interesting towns and cities on the shores of Galilee. But tell me: what are your thoughts on the Lascaux cave-paintings, discovered er, '38?'
'No, in 1940,' Crow's smile disappeared as he suddenly realised he was being tested, that Carstairs' knowledge of archaeology — certainly recent digs and discoveries — was at least the equal of his own. 'September, 1940. They are without question the work of Cro-Magnon man, some 20 — 25,000 years old.'
'Good!' Carstairs beamed again, and Crow suspected that he had passed the test.
Now his gaunt host stood up to tower abnormally tall even over his tall visitor. 'Very well, I think you will do nicely, Mr Crow. Come then, and I'll show you my library. It's there you will spend most of your time, after all, and you'll doubtless be pleased to note that the room has a deal more natural light than the rest of the house. Plenty of windows. Barred windows, for of course many of my books are quite priceless.'
Leading the way through gloomy and mazy corridors, he mused: 'Of course, the absence of light suits me admirably. I am hemeralopic. You may have noticed how large and dark my eyes are in the gloom? Yes, and that is why there are so few strong electric lights in the house. I hope that does not bother you?'
'Not at all,' Crow answered, while in reality he felt utterly hemmed in, taken prisoner by the mustiness of dryrot and endless, stifling corridors.
'And you're a rock-hound, too, are you?' Carstairs continued. 'That is interesting. Did you know that fossil lampshells, of the sort common here in the south, were once believed to be the devil's cast-off toenails?' He laughed a mirthless, baying laugh. 'Ah, what it is to live in an age enlightened by science, eh?'
II
Using a key to unlock the library door, he ushered Crow into a large room, then stooped slightly to enter beneath a lintel uncomfortably shallow for a man of his height. 'And here we are,' he unnecessarily stated, staggering slightly and holding up a hand to ward off the weak light from barred windows. 'My eyes,' he offered by way of an explanation. 'I'm sure you will understand .
Quickly crossing the carpeted floor, he drew shades until the room stood in sombre shadows. 'The lights are here,' he said, pointing to switches on the wall. 'You are welcome to use them when I am not present. Very well, Mr Crow, this is where you are to work. Oh, and by the way: I agree to your request as stated in your letter of introduction, that you be allowed your freedom at weekends. That suits me perfectly well, since weekends are really the only suitable time for our get-togethers — that is to say, when I entertain a few friends.
'During the week, however, you would oblige me by staying here. Behind the curtains in the far wall is a lighted alcove, which I have made comfortable with a bed, a small table and a chair. I assure you that you will not be disturbed. I will respect your privacy — on the understanding, of course, that you will respect mine; with regard to which there are certain house rules, as it were. You are not to have guests or visitors up to the house under any circumstances — The Barrows is forbidden to all outsiders. And the cellar is quite out of bounds. As for the rest of the house: with the sole exception of my study, it is yours to wander or explore as you will — though I suspect you'll have little enough time for that. In any case, the place is quite empty. And that is how I like it.
'You do understand that I can only employ you for three months? Good. You shall be paid monthly, in advance, and to ensure fair play and good will on both sides I shall require you to sign a legally binding contract. I do not want you walking out on me with the job only half completed.
'As for the work: that should be simple enough for anyone with the patience of the archaeologist, and I will leave the system entirely up to you. Basically, I require that all my books should be put in order, first by category, then by author, and alphabetically in the various categories. Again, the breakdown will be entirely your concern. All of the work must, however, be cross-referenced; and finally I shall require a complete listing of books by title, and once again alphabetically. Now, are you up to it?'
Crow glanced around the room, at its high shelves and dusty, book-littered tables. Books seemed to be piled everywhere. There must be close on seven or eight thousand volumes here! Three months no longer seemed such a great length of time. On the other hand, from what little he had seen of the titles of some of these tomes . .
'I am sure,' he finally answered, 'that my work will be to your complete satisfaction.'
'Good!' Carstairs nodded. 'Then today being three-quarters done, I suggest we now retire to the dining-room for our evening meal, following which you may return here if you so desire and begin to acquaint yourself with my books. Tomorrow, Thursday, you begin your work proper, and I shall only disturb you on those rare occasions when I myself visit the library, or perhaps periodically to see how well or ill you are progressing. Agreed?'
'Agreed,' answered Crow, and he once more followed his host and employer out into the house's airless passages. On their way Carstairs handed him the key to the library door, saying:
'You shall need this, I think.' And seeing Crow's frown he explained, 'The house has attracted several burglars in recent years, hence the bars at most of the windows. If such a thief did get in, you would be perfectly safe locked in the library'
'I can well look after myself, Mr Carstairs,' said Crow.
'I do not doubt it,' answered the other, 'but my concern is not entirely altruistic. If you remain safe, Mr Crow, then so do my books.' And once again his face cracked open in that hideous smile .. .
* * *
They ate at opposite ends of a long table in a dimly lighted dining-room whose gloom was one with the rest of the house. Titus Crow's meal consisted of cold cuts of meat and red wine, and it was very much to his liking; but he did note that Carstairs' plate held different fare, reddish and of a less solid consistency, though the distance between forbade any closer inspection. They ate in silence and when finished Carstairs led the way to the kitchen, a well-equipped if dingy room with a large, well-stocked larder.