Just piling the books into some kind of order without stopping to read or glance through them had taken up most of his first two workdays. While many of the books were obviously loved and well-read, they were also so thick with dust that whenever he moved one he had to pull his head back to avoid the shower of dust motes that followed. To make it worse, Bertie must have been eating or drinking while reading a few of them, somehow getting a few thick leather covers wet; and combined with the heat of the room, there were now spots of mildew on them. It was completely unacceptable. How Bertie had ever found what he was looking for was a mystery to Arthur, because although there was evidence that Bertie’s books had once held some sort of order, or attempt at order, it was clear that Bertie put books wherever there was space for them regardless of title, subject, or author. Arthur fully intended to correct that problem, as soon as he’d been through every book in the house. So far, he hadn’t even made a dent in the main room.
