“There are eleven more pages in it just like that one.”

I turned the page.

Arthur Vance called at seven the next morning, before I had fed the stove.

He said the clerk’s office opened at eight thirty, and he wanted me there with the parcel number from Daniel’s ledger.

I wrote the number on the back of a seed receipt and put on my coat.

At nine thirty we sat at a narrow table in the Hartwell Clerk’s Office with a green archive binder between us.

Arthur took off his wire-rimmed spectacles and polished them with a silk handkerchief before he opened the binder.