Mort - sense

AH YES, he said. ALBERT TELLS ME SOMEONE’S BEEN MEDDLING IN THE LIBRARY.

“Pardon, sir?”

TAKING BOOKS OUT, LEAVING THEM LYING AROUND. BOOKS ABOUT YOUNG WOMEN. HE SEEMS TO THINK IT IS AMUSING.

As has already been revealed, the Holy Listeners have such well developed hearing that they can be deafened by a good sunset. Just for a few seconds it seemed to Mort that the skin on the back of his neck was developing similar strange powers, because he could see Ysabell freeze in mid-stitch. He also heard the little intake of breath that he’d heard before, among the shelves. He remembered the lace handkerchief.

He said, “Yes, sir. It won’t happen again, sir.”

The skin on the back of his neck started to itch like fury.

SPLENDID. NOW, YOU TWO CAN RUN ALONG. GET ALBERT TO DO YOU A PICNIC LUNCH OR SOMETHING. GET SOME FRESH AIR. I’VE NOTICED THE WAY YOU TWO ALWAYS AVOID EACH OTHER. He gave Mort a conspiratorial nudge—it was like being poked with a stick—and added, ALBERT’S TOLD ME WHAT THAT MEANS.

***

Mort p88