Page 14 - Lulu and Bob in Verbo City

Lulu and Bob found the door open to their uncle’s sleeping
chamber. It was a large room, the same size as the study or living
room, and just as jammed with books. Bob flipped on the lights.
“Anything to do with bedding or old slippers on the list?” Lulu
noticed with relief that Bunster did not leave a lot of clothing lying
around, and that the closet door was securely closed.
“Not really,” Bob replied, shining his flashlight across the book
spines aligned on the built-in shelves. “All these works look like
fiction. I guess Uncle likes to read himself to sleep with a good
thriller or mystery novel. I don’t see any protruding graphics.”
“Well, maybe nothing germane is in these titles; they’re all rather
sensationalistic. Let’s move on: we can’t afford to get hung up on
these amusements.”
“Okay,” said Bob, turning to go. “Wait a minute: he’s got a stack
of books on his nightstand, and the spines are facing the bed. I’ll just
lean over and take a look—aha! I see two of them! Bring over the
bag.”
And Bob gingerly disengaged “counterintelligence” from Hollywood
Double Agent and “bathysiderodromophobia” from Murder on the
Subway.
Lulu carefully closed the wordsack. “It’s getting crowded in there.
I hope they don’t get in any fights. Anyway, we’d better check
Uncle’s bathroom: he left the door ajar.”

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