So now, merely four hours after they’d been let out of their confinements, Gertrude used shortcut between Croix and Merton to get to the Lawn and stole down the covered sidewalk. Hooligans pranced about, pelting passersby with snowballs. A few had taken sniper positions in the trees, and they bombarded him as he passed. He merely hunched against the onslaught and continued on, seeming to flow forward in his massive furs, a dark mass penetrating the washed-out whiteness of snow and setting sun. He merged with the shadows, appearing once more when he opened the door to the library and slipped within.
Scathewort was, of course, entirely empty. Not even a librarian was to be seen. Gertrude felt both comfortable and profoundly ill at ease. At least nobody would bother him while he studied, but
