The Secret Chronicles of Henry Dashwood, Vol. 2

Robertson after some thought. 'And I'll up to seventy-five if you'll take back a dozen copies of Paris of Today by Louis Baum. When you showed me the book and said it was an intimate look at the city and its inhabitants, I assumed it is was going to be a little racy – and so did my customers, everyone put it down when they discovered that the Moulin Rouge isn't even listed in the index!' 'Ha, ha! You're pulling my leg,' laughed Mr. Lewis. 'There's no call for smutty reading in this high-falutin town.' 'No call for smutty reading?' echoed the bookseller. 'Now you're joking, Michael. If it weren't for the copies of The Oyster I sell every month, the ruddy shop would hardly show a profit. So how about giving me credit for twelve copies of Paths of Today?' Mr. Lewis considered the offer and then said: 'How about sending back six and increasing your order for The Courtship of Francesco to sixty?' 'Done,' said Mr. Robertson without hesitation and the two men shook hands. Whilst they continued talking, I searched the shelves for a second-hand copy of Professor Zanerowski's book. I was about to give up when I suddenly found one in such good condition that I could hardly believe that it was second hand. However, the name of the previous owner was scrawled on the flyleaf, which bothered me not a jot especially as I expected to save a considerable sum by purchasing a used edition. 'How much is this please?' I asked Mr. Robertson. He looked carefully at the book and said: 'Ah, you must be beginning your studies, young man.

Oxford? Well, I sincerely hope you stick at it harder than the previous owner of this volume.' 'Did he not complete the course?'

I asked. The bookseller shook his head and said grimly: 'He was sent down during the middle of his first year for continuous rowdy behaviour caused by drunkenness. He had been given several warnings but when he ripped down his trousers and exhibited himself to the members of the Oxford Women's Institute who were being shown round Brasenose College by the Dean, I'm afraid he had to go. Or so he told me when he came to me to sell his texts.' I looked at the book again and unsuccessfully tried to decipher the signature. 'As the book finished up in your shop, I presume this chap abides in Cheltenham, but I can't quite make out his signature' 'Yes, it's difficult to read, isn't it, but his name is Brindsley Markham. I have recently learned that he used to live at Prestbury a few miles north of the city. His father is General Markham, who has sent him packing on a one-way ticket to America to make a new start.' 'Perhaps it will be the making of him,' I suggested. Mr. Robertson grunted: 'I doubt it, I mean just look at his signature. As you said, it's impossible to read. An illegible signature is supposed to be a mark of bad character – so it is, bad character and bad manners as well!'