sty tomes. Such a fantastic number of them."
Lucifer kept his expression impassive. He'd told only Sir Jasper and Phyllida of his interest in collecting; clearly, neither had talked.
"Now, it may seem odd to you, but I've an interest in books myself, as you might have heard around the village. I'm viewed as quite the eccentric because of it, y'know."
"Indeed?"
"Yes, oh, yes. Now, to come to my point, I realize you'll want to be rid of these-doubtless you'll start clearing them soon. They take up such a great space. All through the ground floor and even, I daresay, abovestairs?"
Lucifer pretended not to hear the question.
"Yes, well." Coombe shifted, tugging at his coat. "That's where I believe I could help you."
He sat back and said nothing more. Lucifer was forced to ask, "How?"
Coombe leaned forward like a well-rehearsed puppet. "Oh, I couldn't take them all, of course! Dear me, no! But I would like to add just a few of Horatio's books to my collection." He brightened. "In memorium, you might say. I'm sure Horatio would have wanted it that way."
Smiling, Coombe sat back again. "I'll just come and take a look at the books as you're packing them-I wouldn't want to inconvenience you."
"You won't." Lucifer tried to imagine Coombe with a knife in his hand. The picture wasn't convincing. If there was any man in the village liable to swoon at the sight of blood, he would have bet it was Coombe. Still, he hadn't been in church last Sunday. "I haven't thought about selling the books, but if I do, I'll probably call in an agent from London."
A frown creased Coombe's brow. "I hope that you'll agree, when the time comes, to grant me first refusal?"
Lucifer shrugged. "I'll have to see how things fall out. Some agents may not take the commission if they believe the juiciest plums have already been picked."
"Well, my word!" Coombe puffed like an agitated hen. "I must say, I think Horatio would have wanted me to have some of his gems."
"Is that so?" His dry tone had Coombe deflating. He held the man's gaze. "Unfortunately for you, Horatio is no longer here. I am." He rose and tugged the bellpull, then looked at Coombe. "If there's nothing else, I've a considerable amount of business awaiting my attention."
The door opened; Lucifer glanced up. "Ah, Bristleford-Mr. Coombe is leaving."
Coombe got to his feet, face mottling. But he drew himself up and bowed from the waist. "Good day, sir."
Lucifer inclined his head.
As Coombe neared the door, Lucifer signaled to Bristleford; Bristleford almost imperceptibly nodded, then ushered Coombe out and shut the door.
Lucifer was sorting correspondence when Bristleford returned.
"You wanted something, sir?"
"Send Covey to me."
"At once, sir."
Covey slipped into the room some minutes later. Lucifer sat back. "I've a job for you, Covey."
"Yes, sir?" Covey stopped before the desk, hands clasped before him.
Lucifer glanced at the bookshelves. "I want you to take a complete inventory of all Horatio's books."
"All of them?" Covey looked at the long, high bookshelves.
"Start in the drawing room, then in here, then in the other rooms. For every book I want the title, publisher, and date of publication, and I want you to check for inscriptions or page notes. If you find any notations, set those books aside and show them to me at the end of each day."
Covey squared his shoulders. "Indeed, sir." He was transparently pleased to be following orders again. "Shall I use a ledger for the list?"
Lucifer nodded. Collecting a fresh ledger and a pencil from a chest, Covey headed for the drawing room. Lucifer watched the door close; he sat back-leather squeaked.