I found myself waiting in his office with plenty of time to kill ans not a whole lot to look at save the mammoth bookcase behind the desk.

The volumes on the shelf ranged from Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason to the second edition of Integral Calculus. The bindings weren’t worn, and I got the feeling that these books were present not for the entertainment of their owner but rather served to intimidate any lesser minds who happened to glimpse the shelf’s contents.

“Maybe that’s his strategy,” I grumbled. “Sit people down and have his library intimidate them. Softens ’em up.”