Page "mystery" Paragraph 1081

You see, besides being custodian of antiquities, I am also registrar.

No, I don't hold with those who live entirely among dead things.

I know as well as the next man that a ship is called from the rigging she carries, where the live wind blows, and not from the hull.

But you've got to know both.

What's below the water-line interests me also.

As I was saying, I've known all about the old records, including the old Norberg deed.

Some ten years ago that page was torn out, I don't know by whom.

About five years ago, Handley came to ask me if he could see the tattered register.

He was courteous and casual about it, as though it were of no consequence.

He's always like that, in spite of being a big man.

( When you see him, you'll notice his habit of fingering, I might almost say, stroking a large mole with black hairs on it, by his right temple.

) A sensual man, but very courteous, some would say slick.

Like his glossy black hair.

Too many outside manners, to my taste.

He is the sort who, with an appraising eye, would cross the street to help a strange woman on to a bus and then pinch her.

A real gentleman, I feel, would do neither.

He's always worn a broad-brimmed hat, and I've noticed, in my small study at the Society, that he rather smells of cosmetics.

The next week, cousin Red wandered in as casually, but curt and untidy.

Red was small and fine-boned, like ivory-inlay.

He too asked to see the same page.

When I told him someone had torn it out, he shouted.

`` By God, it's that damn Handley, the sneak ''!!

And later in the same week they both came together to examine the register.

Fortunately we were alone in the building -- so few people nowadays are interested even in their own past or in the lovely craft of other days -- for they began to abuse each other in the foulest language.

Red thrusting out his tawny beard, Handley glowering under his suddenly rumpled black hair.