The Leeds Library would be closed. Mrs. Sugden, was on good terms with Miss Merton, the true glue of that place. If anyone could open doors after hours, or rustle up a person with a key, it would be Miss Merton.

Mr. Duffield, newspaper librarian, would have gone home by now. Sykes knew where he lived. Newspaper buildings buzzed with life the whole night long. Mr. Duffield would, for Mrs. Shackleton, willingly return to his many files and index cards to search out a man called Harry Aspinall.

With a library linchpin and a newspaper archivist on his side, Sykes hoped for good results.

*   *   *

Sykes and Miss Merton sat at a large polished table in the new room of the Leeds Library. A light from this room would not be seen from the street because the windows were in the roof. All the same, they took no chances. An old oil lamp stood on a raffia mat in the centre of the table, casting a soft light over the membership cards from the index box.

Several cards were fastened together for members with the name Aspinall.

Miss Merton carried two pairs of spectacles. When she looked at the cards, she wished for a magnifying glass. “How good is your eyesight, Mr. Sykes?”

“Perfect in a good light, but I can squint well enough.”

He drew the lamp nearer. “It appears that Harry Aspinall is the third generation to have library membership.”

“I knew his father,” Miss Merton informed him. “They lived somewhere south of the city as I recall. Am I right?”

“You are.” Sykes had the card. He made a note of the family address. Rothwell Manor, Rothwell.

Miss Merton sat in the warm glow of knowledge that she was not yet losing her marbles. Strange how certain things came back to you. “The father died, the elder brother died before he had time to take up membership. It passed to Mr. Harry Aspinall. Now that we have his name, I remember the treasurer complaining that she had to write to France for the annual contribution, and that when she explained the inconvenience, he paid ten years in advance.”

“Do you happen to know whether anyone kept the house open in his absence? Were there younger siblings?”

“If there were, I know nothing of them.” Miss Merton was already putting the index cards back in the box.

Sykes would have liked to telephone to the newspaper office to tell Mr. Duffield he was on his way, but the date, time and number would appear on the library’s telephone bill and that might lead to trouble.

As they descended the marble staircase, the light from Sykes’s torch cast long shadows across the stairs and the ground floor hallway.

He walked Miss Merton to the tram stop, waiting with her until the tram came. “Thank you for your help, Miss Merton. I could not have done it without you. Mrs. Shackleton will be very grateful.”