His head appeared suddenly at the end of my row. “Good heavens, no! No no no, I have them precisely where I want them. Just—just see to it you don’t move things around much. And don’t lose any of my bookmarks. Oh, and don’t go into the Dangerous Documents section.” He gestured toward an area blocked from sight by a corridor of bookshelves, from which the shadows seemed to fall a little darker than was absolutely natural. “And don’t—”

“Perhaps I should just carry these to your office,” I offered, patting the stack of books Jackaby had already selected, “where you can conduct your research more comfortably?”

“That sounds like a marvelous idea. Thank you, Miss Rook.”

In all, we brought a stack of eleven or twelve volumes and three large charts into the office before Jackaby seemed satisfied that he could suitably bury himself in his work. He ducked into the jumbled laboratory across the hall and brewed a pot of exceptionally strong black tea before diving in. The tea service he returned with did not suit the detective. It was a delicate set, painted in soft pastels with understated floral patterns and curling, feminine accents.

“I hope you don’t take milk. I appear to be out,” he said, pushing a few papers aside to make space for the tray on the corner of his desk.

“I’m sure I’ll manage. Thank you, sir.”

“Also, there was an incident with the sugar last month. You’ll find a few lumps in the dish, but they have been thoroughly caramelized. I’m afraid the thermochemical decomposition is irreversible, but they’re still technically sugar.” Several squiggly, molasses brown tendrils stuck out of the sugar bowl, frozen stiff at odd angles as though a minute octopus had been beaten into stillness by the dainty silver spoon.

“Quite all right,” I said. “Is there anything I ought to be doing to help?”

Jackaby had already planted himself in his thick leather chair and begun scanning through the first book on the stack. Making no indication he had heard me, he nibbled absently on a curl of browned sugar, and was otherwise entirely immersed in his research. I sat a bit awkwardly on the chair opposite and sipped at my cup, finding comfort in the familiar habit, as he riffled through pages, tucking scraps of paper here and there as makeshift bookmarks.