A homeless man in a black trench coat stepped out of the bushes brandishing a sawed-off shotgun.

“I’ll take that,” he said. “You didn’t even know what you had.”

Carl felt pangs of hatred as he watched the man walk back into the bushes with his book.

“Easy there, I can’t let you follow him,” Pete said.

Carl tried to remember where he’d seen the man before. It was in the Lexington Library Fire.

“He’s the arsonist!” Carl said.

“How do you know?”

“He was in the library when it was burning.”

“Why would anyone burn historic libraries to the ground?”

“Because they hate to read!” Greg joked.

“No; because the only way to find an unburnable book is to set fire to it! There’s something strange in there. I can’t read Latin, but I learned things from reading it, things I couldn’t possibly know.”

“Well, how do you plan to get it back? The police won’t believe you, so you’ll need to track that guy yourself.” “We must know what the book is and who wrote it. I have a hunch, but I can’t be sure. I wouldn’t be surprised if that homeless man is a rare book dealer. Who else would know how to look for such a powerful book?”

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