The clerk’s pen leaked before the box was open.
Barnaby watched a dark bead swell beneath its nib. The clerk shook it over the custody sheet.
“No,” Barnaby said.
The man stopped.
Barnaby nudged an ordinary pen across the table with one claw. The clerk took it. Civilization survived another morning.
Two officials witnessed the seals before the cord came off. The box had arrived at the family table the previous evening; now it stood in the copying room beneath a window that opened only halfway. Barnaby approved the limited draft. He disapproved of the dust.
The first folder contained ordinary supply schedules. Salt. Iron fittings. Lamp oil. An entire page concerned replacement handles.
Felix appeared in the doorway just as the clerk began listing them.
