She placed the bag on the floor and gave him a hug. Not that she exactly loved him, but something like that. He always had the same smell, of dust and anise candies.
“You don’t look like someone who’s come to buy a book, Rebecca.”
“No. I came to make this day unforgettable for you.”
“Aha.”
“Doc, do you remember Jasper Gwyn?”
“Are you kidding?”
And he started off on his complete bibliography.
“Forget that, it’s something else I wanted to ask you. You remember that business of the portraits?”
Mallory began to laugh. “And who doesn’t—at Tom’s no one talked about anything else.”
“Did you ever know anything about it?”
“You were the one who knew everything.”
“Yes, but did you know anything?”
“Very little. People said that he was crazy, with that idea. But there was also a rumor that he had reached the point of selling the portraits for a hundred thousand pounds each.”
“If only,” said Rebecca.
“You see that you’re the one who knows the story?”
“Yes, but I don’t know everything. I’m missing a piece and only you can help me.”
“Me?”
Rebecca leaned over, took the folders out of the purse, and placed them on the counter.
Doc Mallory had been working on some bills when she entered, so he was in shirtsleeves. He turned around, went and got his jacket, put it on, and came back to the counter.
“These are them?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“May I?”
He turned the folders so that they faced him, and confined himself to delicately placing his hands on them, palms open.
“Tom would have given an arm to be able to read them,” he said, with a trace of sadness.
“And you?”
Mallory looked up at her. “You know, to read them would be a privilege for me.”
“Then do it, Doc, I need you to do it.”
Mallory was silent for a moment. His eyes were shining.
“Why?” he asked.
“I need to know if he copied them.”
“Copied?”
“If they were taken from other books, I don’t know, something of the sort.”
“Come now, it wouldn’t make sense.”
“A lot of things don’t make sense when you’re talking about Jasper Gwyn.”
Mallory smiled. He knew it was true.
“Have you read them?”
“More or less.”
“And have you got an idea?”
“No. But I haven’t read all the books in the world.”
“Mind you, I haven’t read them all. Often I skim them,” he said. Then he brought the folders a little closer.
“I think you’re crazy.”
“Let’s take away the doubt. Read them.”
He hesitated still a moment.
“It would be an enormous pleasure.”
“Then read them.”
“All right, I’ll read them.”
“No, no, you don’t understand, read them now, then forget them immediately and if you so much as mention it to anyone I’ll come here personally and rip out your balls.”
Mallory looked at her. Rebecca smiled.
“I was joking.”
“Ah.”
“But not really.”
Then she took off her raincoat, looked for a chair where she could sit down, and said to Mallory that he could take all the time he needed, they had the whole day.
“Don’t you have something for me to read, so I don’t get bored?” she asked.
Mallory made a vague gesture toward his shelves, without even looking up from the folders, which were still closed.
“Figure it out yourself, I have work to do,” he said.