he oldest and rarest of the books. It was a very thick door,
with a projecting frame, and it had been the fancy of some ancestor to
cross it with shallow shelves, filled with book-backs only. The harmless
trick may be excused by the fact that the titles on the sham backs
were either humorously original, or those of books lost beyond hope of
recovery. I had a great liking for the masked door.

To complete the illusion of it, some inventive workman apparently had
shoved in, on the top of one of the rows, a part of a volume thin enough
to lie between it and the bottom of the next shelf: he had cut away
diagonally a considerable portion, and fixed the remnant with one of
its open corners projecting beyond the book-backs. The binding of the
mutilated volume was limp vellum, and one could open the corner far
enough to see that it was manuscript upon parchment.

Happening, as I sat reading, to raise my eyes from the page, my glance
fell upon this door, and at once I saw that the book described, if
book it may be called, was gone. Angrier than any worth I knew in it
justified, I rang the bell, and the butler appeared. When I asked him if
he knew what had befallen it, he turned pale, and assured me he did not.
I could less easily doubt his word than my own eyes, for he had been all
his life in the family, and a more faithful servant never lived. He left
on me the impression, nevertheless, that he could have said something
more.

In the afternoon I was again reading in the library, and coming to a
point which demanded reflection, I lowered the book and let my eyes go
wandering. The same moment I saw the back of a slender old man, in a
long, dark coat, shiny as from much wear, in the act of disappearing
through the masked door into the closet beyond. I darted across the
room, found the door shut, pulled it open, looked into the closet,
which had no other issue, and, seeing nobody, concluded, not without
uneasiness, that I had had a recurrence of my former illusion, and sat
down again to my reading.

Naturally, however, I could not help feeling a little nervous, and
presently glancing up to assure myself that I was indeed alone,
started again to my feet, and ran to the masked door--for there was
the mutilated volume in its place! I laid hold of it and pulled: it was
firmly fixed as usual!

I was now utterly bewildered. I rang the bell; the butler came; I told
him all I had seen, and he told me all he knew.

He had hoped, he