Arsenic And Old Books

Before I could reach for the phone, Melba appeared in the doorway with Diesel. “Here we are,” she said. She hung Diesel’s harness and leash on a coat hook near the door.

Diesel ambled forward and around my desk to jump into the broad window ledge behind my chair. This was his favorite spot while I worked, and he had an ongoing feud with the squirrels and birds who appeared in the large oak right outside the window.

Melba made herself comfortable in the chair recently vacated by Kelly Grimes. “I really will call Dr. Newkirk about the Steverton witch if you want me to. He owes me a favor from years ago. I hate to think of you being stuck with that lump of misery in your office while she does whatever it is she thinks she’s doing.”

One thing I loved about Melba: Her loyalty was absolute. I knew all I had to do was say the word, and she would do whatever she could to get Marie banned from the archive. I didn’t dare imagine what Dr. Newkirk had done in order to incur a debt to Melba, and I knew better than to ask. Melba loved gossip, but she understood the importance of discretion when it came to her friends.

“I appreciate the offer,” I said. Behind me, Diesel warbled loudly. He wouldn’t be happy with Marie in the office, either, but we would both have to live with it. “Although I don’t think we need resort to such a drastic measure just yet.”

“I get why Dr. Steverton wants to poke around those diaries, but what’s in it for the writer?” Melba asked.

I couldn’t divulge the complete story, but I could share part of it, I reckoned, without violating Kelly Grimes’s trust. “Background for the state senate race between Beck Long and Jasper Singletary.”

“That’s reaching pretty far back.” Melba frowned. “I don’t see the point, because frankly I don’t think Jasper Singletary stands a chance. Not against Beck Long. Jasper’s basically a nobody, even though his family’s been here in Athena since before the Civil War.”

“Maybe delving into the glorious past of the Long clan will help Beck Long keep his lock on the race,” I said. “Between you and me and the cat, I don’t see much point in it, either, but it’s not my decision.”

“Guess not,” Melba said after a moment. “I’d better get back downstairs before Peter realizes I’m not there. See y’all later.”

Peter Vanderkeller, the director of the library, leaned heavily on Melba, and he tended to get antsy if she wasn’t nearby the moment he needed her.

“Later,” I called to her retreating back. Diesel added a loud meow, and Melba turned to flash a grin at us before she disappeared into the hallway.

I thought again about calling the mayor to propose my compromise, but after further consideration I decided I ought to spend more time examining the four volumes of the diary first.

Diesel watched with sleepy-eyed interest as I pulled the archival boxes from the shelf and set them on my desk. He yawned, then put his head down on his front paws and appeared to go to sleep.

Smiling, I put on some cotton gloves before I opened the first box and extracted the initial volume of Rachel Long’s diary.

As I had noted yesterday, the paper appeared to be the usual linen-and-cotton rag, typical of writing paper from the first part of the nineteenth century. I recalled that I had not spotted significant blemishes or other problems on the pages from my hasty skimming. Now that I had time for a closer, more thorough examination, I realized there were issues with the condition.

These problems stemmed largely from the ink. The standard ink used at the time was iron gall, or oak gall, ink, made from a combination of iron salts, tannic acids, and vegetable matter. The latter tended to be the galls, formed by wasps that infested oak trees and caused the plant tissue to swell. The resulting ink is acidic and sometimes caused so-called ghost writing on the obverse side of the writing surface, usually vellum or paper.

Iron gall ink, due to the ease of its composition and its durability, had been in use since at least the early fourth century A.D. One of the earliest—and vaguest—recipes, I recalled, came from Pliny the Elder, who lived during the first century A.D. I had seen medieval English manuscripts written in this ink, and the clarity of the writing, even after several centuries, amazed me.

In addition to some of the ghost writing, I saw the occasional hole in the paper where the ink had eaten through. Overall, I concluded, the paper was in remarkably good condition, despite the fact that the diaries had been stored in an attic without significant temperature control. The ravages of unchecked humidity could be extensive, but somehow this volume had escaped them.

As long as the other three volumes were in similar condition to this one, there should be no problem with scanning or photographing the pages. Having them digitized would cut down on the necessity of handling the originals and thereby would help conserve them.