“Let’s keep looking. If we find his library, maybe we can make an appointment to get in and take a look at it tomorrow,” said Sam. They continued to search and eventually found their way to a museum of Spanish sculpture. They approached the man at the desk near the entrance. “Here goes,” Remi whispered.

Remi said to him in Spanish, “Sir, do you know where we should go to see the library that Bishop Bartolomé de Las Casas donated to the College of San Gregorio?”

“Yes, I do,” replied the man. “First, you must know that it’s all part of the University of Valladolid.”

“I suppose the books had to be moved to a modern university.”

The man smiled. “The university was founded in 1346. But, yes, it’s modern. It’s an active institution, with thirty-one thousand students. The College of San Gregorio is a part of it but serves mainly as a museum of art and architecture now. The monks are gone. I believe what you’re looking for is quite close by in the History Library.”

“How do we find the History Library?”

“Go down the Calle Gondomar to the main university. Outside is the patio. There are three levels set on octagonal pillars. On the right side is the chapel and on the left is a semicircular porch. Go left. The first level houses the History Library.”

As they walked to the library, Sam noticed that two men were on the same course, walking far behind them on Calle Gondomar. He wondered for a moment if they could be following him and Remi. He and Remi had, after all, put Sarah Allersby on notice that they weren’t going to let her rob them and forget it. But they were a long way from Guatemala City, and they’d just arrived in Valladolid. Could these men have followed them here already? They would have had to be watching them in San Diego practically from the time they’d come home from Guatemala, then caught the same plane or the one after it.

They reached the History Library, and Remi asked in Spanish whether they could see the collection of books that Bartolomé de Las Casas had left the College of San Gregorio. They were pleasantly surprised to learn that they could sign in as visiting scholars, and a librarian would admit them, without too many intimidating formalities. They only had to prove their identities and leave Remi’s purse and their passports at the desk. When they entered a large reading room, there were already a few graduate students reading old books at tables.