“Besides,” she added in a quieter tone, “it’s not quite new. The strings that hold it together at the throat are worn a little smooth and there’s the least bit of a soil at the bottom. You wait ten minutes for me and we’ll go out together. I know the watchman. I’ll take you out under my wing.”
Greatly relieved by these words and intent on making the most of her wait by having a good general look at the room, Lucile sauntered away to the left where she was soon lost from sight behind tables, stacks of books, and massive pillars.
Since she had worked here but ten days, the charm of the place had not yet worn off. The books, row on row of them, fascinated her. Here was a wealth of learning that no one could hope to appropriate in a lifetime. To the right of her was poetry, thousands of volumes; to the left, books on travel, thousands more; and before her new fiction, tens of thousands. Who would not envy her? It was a great place for one who loved books.
With a feeling of sorrow she thought of the time when she must leave all this wealth; when she must say goodbye to the wonderful friends she had already formed here. In two short weeks she would be going back to the University. Since she was dependent upon her own resources for her support—and since for one who specialized in English there was quite as much to be learned about books by selling as by reading them—her head professor had quite readily granted her a month’s leave of absence that she might come down here to assist in meeting the Christmas rush.
“Ah yes,” she breathed, “it will be of the past in two more weeks. But in two weeks much may happen. Think of what happened to-night! Think—”
She was brought up short by a sound. Had it been a footstep? She could not make sure for the floor was heavily carpeted. Instantly she became conscious of the darkness that surrounded her like a shroud. Before her loomed the dim outlines of the elevator cages. Distorted by the uncertain light, these seemed the cells of some gloomy prison. Far off to the right was a great rotunda. From the rail that surrounded this, when the lights were on, one might gaze upward to dizzy heights and downward to dizzier depths. Now she thought of that awe inspiring vault as if it were some deep and mysterious cave.
“Oh—ooo!” Lucile gasped. “This place gets spookier every moment. I’ll go back to—”
Even as she spoke she caught a sound to her right. Impelled by sheer curiosity, she took a dozen steps in that direction.
Suddenly she started back. Against the wall a light had flashed on for a second and in that second she had caught sight of a face—the face of Laurie Seymour.
Again the light came on. This time the flash was a little longer. She saw his face clearly. On his finely cut features there was such a smile as suggests anticipation of amusing adventure.