“It can hit you pretty quickly if you’re not used to it.” I kept my tone mild, though I was pretty irritated with him. Still, I reckoned, he had suffered from his overindulgence, and he was acting much nicer than I had seen him do so far in our brief acquaintance.

“I’m not used to it, despite what you probably think of me.” Betts managed a wry grin. “I know I come on way too strong sometimes.”

“Yes, you most certainly do.” I softened my words with a brief smile.

He leaned back against the sofa and closed his eyes. “I really feel wonky, but the soda and the crackers helped.”

“Best thing you can do now is go to bed and sleep.” I stood. “Would you like some help? I should probably be going now.”

“No, I’ll be okay, I think.” Betts pushed himself up from the sofa. He didn’t wobble on his feet, and I took that as a positive sign. “Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. I decided to ask him something before I left, though, and take advantage of his pliant, repentant mood. “Did you get Mrs. Cartwright to sign your books yet?”

Betts shook his head. “No, not yet. I still have to work out the arrangements with her daughter.” He paused. “To be honest, the daughter is insisting on one thing that I’m not happy about.”

“Really? What is that?”

“She wants me to bring all of the books to their house and leave them there for as long as it takes Mrs. Cartwright to sign them all. I know she’s an old lady, but Mrs. Marter said it could take her three or four weeks. I’m not sure I want to leave my books with them that long. They could get damaged, and there wouldn’t be much I could do about it.”

“That is rather odd,” I said, though I could understand that Mrs. Cartwright might not be up to signing several hundred books in a couple of days’ time. “But what if that’s the only way you can get them all signed?”

Betts shrugged. “I don’t have much choice, do I? I gave them the money before Mrs. Marter informed me of that particular condition.”

“It sounds like you have a truly impressive collection.” I hoped he might volunteer to show me at least part of it.

“Yeah, I do.” Betts yawned. “Look, I need to get to bed. You can show yourself out, right?” He glanced pointedly toward the door.

“Sure. I hope you feel better after a good night’s sleep.” I headed for the door, wondering why he suddenly seemed so ready to get me out of his suite. Was it because he didn’t want me to look through his books?