CHAPTER 44

"Absolutely real—have pages and everything. I thought they'd be made of nice durable cardboard. In fact, they're absolutely real. Pages and—Here! Let me show you."

Taking our skepticism for granted, he rushed to the bookcases and returned with Volume One of the 'Stoddard Lectures.'

"See!" he cried triumphantly. "It's a genuine piece of printed material. It fooled me. This fellow's a regular Belasco. It's a triumph. What thoroughness! What realism! Knew when to stop too—didn't cut the pages. But what do you want? What do you expect?"

He snatched the book from me and hastily put it back on the shelf, muttering that if one brick was removed, the whole library might collapse.

"Who brought you?" he asked. "Or did you just come?"

I was brought. Most people were brought.

Casey looked at him alertly, cheerfully, without answering.

"I was brought by a woman named Roosevelt," he continued. "Mrs. Claud Roosevelt. Do you know her? I met her somewhere last night. I've been drunk for about a week now, and I thought it might sober me up to sit in a library."

"Has it?"

"A little bit, I think. I can't tell yet. I've only been here an hour. Did I tell you about the books? They're real. They're—"

"You told us."