I picked up the letters that came with the boxes and called to Diesel. “Come on, boy. Let’s go.”

I paused long enough to lock the office door behind me before following Diesel down the stairs. I found him in Melba’s office on top of her desk.

“It’s okay,” Melba said, flashing me a guilty look. “I let him get up there.”

“I guess there’s no point in arguing. You’ll keep an eye on him while I talk to Peter?”

“Of course.” Melba rubbed the cat’s head. “You go right on in.”

I knocked on Peter’s door and then opened it.

“Ah, Charles,” he said, rising from his chair. “Do come in.”

I took a seat, and Peter resumed his.

“Melba tells me that you have received a shipment of the late Mr. Priest’s archival material.” Peter tented his fingers together and regarded me owlishly.

“Yes, the boxes arrived today.” I leaned forward and handed him the two letters. “It’s all very well organized, so he must have been planning this for some time.”

Peter read through the letters quickly. He laid them on his desk. “No doubt. Given the colossal ego that man possessed, he would have assumed the college would accept his papers without demur.” He sniffed.

“I agree,” I said. “But he certainly had no idea he was going to die so soon, and in such a brutal fashion.”

“One cannot pretend to feel sorrow for such an unmitigated bastard, despite the distasteful manner of his death. The drivel he wrote will sell even better now, though he won’t be able to reap the benefits.” Peter smiled with grim satisfaction.

I never suspected our library director possessed such a deep streak of vindictiveness. He really had hated Godfrey.

“His sales will jump, for a while at least,” I said. “You’re probably right about that. But I wonder who will benefit.” Oddly enough, this was the first time I had stopped to think about the matter. Who would inherit Godfrey’s wealth? Justin?

“One can only hope he made suitable provision in his will to enable the college to house and process his collection of papers. Otherwise they will have to remain as they are.” Peter lifted his chin in a determined manner as he regarded me. “I trust we are in agreement on that point.”

“Certainly,” I said. I had more than enough to do as a part-time employee. I would far rather catalog rare books than process Godfrey’s papers, despite my curiosity.

“Excellent.” Peter beamed at me.

“Barring some provision in Godfrey’s will, do you think that letter is sufficient for the college’s ownership of the collection?”

“I should think so,” Peter said. He picked up the letter and read it again. “He states his intentions perfectly clearly, though it is a great pity he did not mention any pecuniary bequest to accompany it.”