Free The Liar by Stephen Fry

triumph.
    ‘No, no, sir. We can find it ourselves, I’m sure.’
    *
    Gary managed to track down the telephone under an ottoman. He answered it on the fifth ring.
    ‘Yes?’ he panted. ‘Trefusis here, I was just taking a crap, what is it? … Who? … Speak up man … Healey? … “Manifestations of Erotic Desire …”? Yes, is there some problem? … Of course it’s my signature … I see. A little trust would not go amiss, you know. You’re running a library, not a weapons depository, this bureaucracy is … No doubt, but that’s what the guards at Buchenwald said … Very well, very well. You catch me in a bad mood this morning, take no notice … All right. Goodbye then.’
    *
    ‘That appears to be fine, Mr Healey. You appreciate that we had to make sure?’
    ‘Of course, of course.’
    The librarian gulped.
    ‘These will take some time to … er … locate, sir. If you’d like to come back in half an hour? We’ll provide a private reading-room for you.’
    ‘Thank you,’ said Adrian. ‘Most kind.’
    He bounced springily along the corridor on his way down to the tea-room.
    I can fool all of the people all of the time, he thought.
    A man walked past him.
    ‘Morning, Mr Healey.’
    ‘Morning, Professor Trefusis,’ said Adrian.
    Trefusis! Adrian skidded to a halt. He was heading for the reading-room! Not even Trefusis could answer his telephone at St Matthew’s and be in the UL at the same time.
    He tried to shout after him but could manage only a hoarse whisper.
    ‘Professor! … Professor!’
    Trefusis had reached the door. He turned in surprise.
    ‘Yes?’
    Adrian ran up to him.
    ‘Before you go in, sir, I wondered if I could have a word?’
    ‘Very well. What is it?’
    ‘Can I buy you a bun in the tea-room?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Well, I wondered … are you going in for a book or to do some work?’
    ‘To do some work as it happens.’
    ‘Oh, I shouldn’t if I were you.’
    Trefusis smiled.
    ‘You’ve tried it and find it a disagreeable pursuit? I’m afraid in my case it has to be done. Someone, after all, has to write articles for future undergraduates to copy out.’
    He put his hand to the finger-plate of the door.
    Adrian only just managed to stop himself from tugging at his sleeve.
    ‘Full. Not a reading table to be had. That’s why I wanted to speak to you. Wondered if you could show me a good place to work.’
    ‘Well, I find the ninth-floor reading-room is generally free from distraction. You might try there. However I am bound to say that I would feel a little bothered working in the same room as you. I’ll go and see if there are any private rooms free on this floor, I think.’
    He pushed against the door. Adrian practically screamed.
    ‘No that’s all right, sir! You go to the ninth floor. I’ve just remembered, I’ve got to go anyway. Got a … meeting.’
    Trefusis came away from the door, amused.
    ‘Very well. I am greatly looking forward to your master-work, you know. People think our subject is airy-fairy, namby-pamby, arty, not to put too fine a point on it, farty. But as you are no doubt discovering, it is grind and toil from Beowulf to Bloomsbury. Grind, grind, grind. Toil, toil, toil. I like the Kickers. Good morning.’
    Adrian looked down at his shoes. They were indeed smart.
    ‘Thank you, Professor. And your brogues are a riot.’
    With breathless relief he watched Trefusis disappear round the corner towards the lifts.
    Adrian got back to St Matthew’s to find that Gary had pushed all the furniture back to the walls and cleared the floor, which was covered with a vast sheet onto which he was drawing in charcoals.
    ‘How’d it go?’
    ‘Fabulous. Like a breeze. Did you put a handkerchief in your mouth?’
    ‘Nah! If there’s one thing Trefusis sounds like, it’s a man with no handkerchief in his mouth. I just went up two octaves and sounded pissed off.’
    Adrian scrutinised Gary’s activities.
    ‘So. Second question. What are you doing to my