“By all means, but you’ll need to send us a new application.”

“Where—” I needed to seem to have known that, and I said almost too fast to separate the syllables “I mean, when can I see it? Tomorrow?”

“The earliest would be the day after tomorrow. Apply online as you did last time.”

At least that would be Julia’s day off. In my nervous eagerness I’d nearly booked a visit when she would have been at the archive. On my phone the application form was microscopic, and I brought up the archive on my computer. The Sutton Witchcraft Collection contained twenty-six items, and the one I wanted was the last, a number I refused to find ominous. 26: Lumen Scientiae, His Life and Explorations. Handwritten journal of “Lumen Scientiae” (identity unknown)¸n. d., poss. C 17th. I ticked its box and saved the selection, and a button let me reserve the book. I was feeling in charge of the situation until the form asked for my borrower number.

It would be on my Manchester library card, except I didn’t have one. On the horizon twitching windmills mimed the antics of my nerves while I tried to think. Eventually, though not entirely confidently, I retrieved my phone and called the library again. This time it was a male voice that said “Archive.”

“I was speaking to a lady there before. I wonder—”

“The archive’s actually closed now. Can you call back tomorrow after nine?”

“I just need help with reserving a book. Can you put me through to someone who’ll advise me?”

A silence let me think he had, unless he was unprepared to comply, until he said “What seems to be the problem?”

“The form wants the number from my card, and I haven’t got one.”

“Are you the gentleman who was asking about the Lumen Scientiae item?”

“That was me,” I said despite a sudden sense that I ought to have been warier.

“But you had your number when you viewed the book.”

I tried and failed to find a response other than “That wasn’t me.”

“I think you’ll need to explain that, Mr—” Just as suspiciously he added “You said your name was Semple.”

“It is, and his was too. He’s my son.”

By no means signifying comprehension, the man said “Yes?”

“He’s quite a young chap if you’ve seen him. Young enough that we need to keep an eye on what he reads.”

“I’m afraid that’s not part of our job, Mr Semple. If you’re asking us to ban him from the library—”

“I’m just saying we may need to look at the kind of thing he reads, me and his—” Before I could stray into perilous territory I said “I’d like to take a look at it, that’s all.”

“We can’t prevent you from doing that.”

“Your system is. How do I get round it?”