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Hereoux smiled. "Why, Mr. Verne. Every book and manuscript and file was set exacdy where he left it when he died. Of course, many have come to research, such as you, and I instruct everyone that all material must be returned exactly as they found it."
"Most interesting," said Perlmutter. "Everything in its place for .ninety-eight years. That's something to think about."
As soon as Hereoux closed the library door, Mulholland looked at Perlmutter through thoughtful, circumspect eyes. "Did you notice the reaction when you insinuated that Nemo and the Nautilus actually existed?
"Yes, Dr. Hereoux did seem put off balance. I can only wonder what, if anything, he's been hiding."
Perlmutter's chauffeur, Hugo Mulholland, was a dour fellow, who gazed from sad eyes under a bald head. "Have you figured out yet where you wish to start?" he asked. "You've been sitting and staring at die books for the past hour without pulling any from the shelves."
"Patience, Hugo," Perlmutter replied sofdy. "What we're searching for does not lie in an obvious spot, or other researchers would have discovered it long ago."
"From what I've read about him, Verne was a complicated man."
"Not complicated, or necessarily brilliant, but he had an imaginative mind. He was the founding father of the science-fiction story, you know. He invented it."
"What about H. G. Wells?"
"He didn't write The Time Machine until thirty years after Verne wrote Five Weeks in a Balloon." Perlmutter shifted on the couch and continued studying the bookshelves. For a man his age, he had an amazing ten/fifteen eyesight. Optometrists marveled at his vision. From the center of the room, he could read almost every book tide on its spine, unless it was too faded or set in tiny type. His gaze did not linger on the books or the unpublished manuscripts. His interest lay more in the wide range of notebooks.
"So you think Verne had a concept on which to base Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea," said Mulholland, helping himself to a cup of coffee Hereoux had personally carried into the library earlier.
"Verne loved the sea. He was raised in the seaport of Nantes, and ran away as a hand on a small sailing ship, but his father beat him to port on a steamer and took him home. His brother, Paul, was in the French Navy and Verne was an avid sailor. After he became successful, he owned several yachts and sailed all the seas around Europe. When he was young, he wrote about a voyage he took on the largest ocean liner of her time, the Great Eastern. I have a nagging feeling that something happened on that voyage that inspired Verne to write Twenty Thousand Leagues"
"If a Nemo truly existed in the eighteen-sixties, where did he get the scientific knowledge to build a submarine a hundred years ahead of its time?"
"That's what I want to find out. Somehow Dr. Elmore Egan knew the story. Where he got it is a mystery."
"Is it known what happened to Captain Nemo?" queried Mulholland.
"Verne wrote a book called The Mysterious Island six years after Twenty Thousand Leagues was published. In Mysterious Island, a group of castaways settle on a deserted island and are harassed by pirates. A mysterious unseen benefactor leaves food and supplies for the settlers. He also kills the crew of pirates who attack the settlement. Near the end, the settlers are led to a tunnel leading to a flooded cavern inside the heart of the island's volcano. They find the Nautilus and Captain Nemo, who is dying. He warns them the volcano is about to erupt. They escape in time, as the island destroys itself, burying Captain Nemo and his fabulous creation for eternity."
"Strange that Verne took so long to write closure on the story."
Perlmutter shrugged. "Who can say what was on his mind, unless he didn't receive news of the death of the real Nemo until years later."
Hugo turned in a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree circle, gazing at the thousands of books. "So which needle in the haystack holds the key?"
"We can eliminate the books. Anything that's been published has been open for everyone to see and read. And we can skip the manuscripts. They've undoubtedly already been gleaned by anyone who collects Verne lore. Which brings us to his notebooks. Again, they've all been studied and pored over by Verne researchers."
"So where does that leave us?" asked Mulholland.
"Where nobody else looked," Perlmutter said thoughtfully.
"Which is ... ?"
"Jules Verne was not the kind of man to hide secrets in an obvious place. Like most good writers of fiction, he had a perverse and devious mind. Where would you hide something you didn't want people to find for a hundred years in a library, my old friend?"
"Sounds to me like you've eliminated every piece of paper with the printed or written word on it."
"Exactly!" Perlmutter boomed. "A hiding place that is not part of the books and bookshelves."
"Like a secret compartment in the fireplace," said Mulholland, studying the stones around the mantel. "That would be more permanent."
"You underestimate Verne. He had a superior imaginative mind. Secret fireplace niches were all the rage in mystery stories."
"A piece of furniture or a picture on the wall?"
"Furniture and pictures are not permanent. They can be moved or replaced. Think of something that remains constant."
