Leander stared at the book he held in disbelief. What was a volume such as this doing on the regular shelves? Someone on Sutton’s staff must have made a terrible mistake. Leander knew he was hardly an expert, but the book appeared authentic. A hand-written, beautifully illuminated translation of The Book of Aneirin, one of The Four Ancient Books of Wales, was something Sutton would definitely keep behind his counter, not on a shelf with books costing only a few guineas. Perhaps it was a modern forgery; he had heard that sometimes they sold well.
It made little difference to Leander, as he was more concerned with the story within the pages than the actual book. He went to the counter where Sutton was waiting on another customer.
“Hill will be out as soon as he locates the book for you, La
