I answer: ''Thank you, Mr Rivers, I prefer this spot.''
''You like to be cool,'' he says.
''I like the shadows.''
When I smile again he takes it as a kind of invitation, lifts his coat, twitches at his trousers and sits beside me, not too close, still with his eyes upon my uncle''s shelves, as if distracted by the books. But when he speaks, he speaks in a murmur. He says, ''You see, I also like the shadows.''
Mr Huss glances once our way. Mr Hawtrey stands at the fire and lifts a glass. My uncle has settled into his