r
Livius, affected any particular brand of literature?"

"Yes. He seems to be specializing on late seventeenth century British
classicism. Apparently he considers that the flower of British
scholarship of that time wrote a very inferior kind of dog Latin."

"Late seventeenth century Latinity," commented Average Jones.
"That--er--gives, us a fair start. Now as to the body-servant."

"Old Saul? I questioned him about strange callers. He said he remembered
only two, besides an occasional peddler or agent. They were looking for
work."

"What kind of work?"

"Inside the house. One wanted to catalogue the library."

"What did he look like?"

"Saul says he wore glasses and a worse tall hat than the colonel's and
had a full beard."

"And the other?"

"Bookbinder and repairer. Wanted to fix up Colonel Graeme's collection.
Youngish, smartly dressed, with a small waxed moustache."

"And our Livius is clean-shaven," murmured Average Jones. "How long
apart did they call?"

"About two weeks. The second applicant came on the day of the last
snowfall. I looked that up. It was March 27."

"Do you know, Warren," observed Average Jones, "I sometimes think that
part of your talents, at least, are wasted in a chair of Latin."

"Certainly, there is more excitement in this hide-and-seek game, as you
play it, than in the pursuits of a musty pedant," admitted the other,
crackling his large knuckles. "But when are we going to spring upon
friend Livius and strip him of his fake toga?"

"That's the easiest part of it. I've already caught him filling a
fountain-pen as if he'd been brought up on them, and humming the
spinning chorus from The Flying Dutchman; not to mention the lifting of
my newspaper."

"Nemo mortalium omnibus horis sapit," murmured Warren.

"No. As you say, no fellow can be on the job all the time. But our
problem is not to catch Livius, but to find out what it is he's been
after for the last three months."

"Three months? You're assuming that it was he who applied for work in
the library."

"Certainly. And when he failed at that he set about a very carefully
developed scheme to get at Colonel Graeme's books anyway. By inquiries
he found out the old gentleman's fad and proceeded to get in training
for it. You don't know, perhaps, that I have a corps of assistants who
clip, catalogue and file all unusual advertisements. Here is one which
they turned up for me on my order to send me any queer educational
adve