Peregrine leaned against the bookstore doorframe. "Can you check again?" he asked, because going back to the house to tell Picardy his books were not here was going to be a pain. And if Picardy really wanted these books - Peregrine could never tell; with him everything always seemed to hold the same level of frenetic urgency - then he might switch bookstores in a fit, and having to flit over to London on a regular basis sounded horrendously annoying.

"They could be under Umbernauld - that's my name."

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