accident.'
The Bursar hadn't got where he was today, or rather where he had been ten seconds ago, which was where a calm and self-assured personality was, rather than where he was now, which was on the verge of a mild heart attack, without a tremendous ability to recover from unexpected upsets.
He unpinned his hat from the target chalked on the ancient woodwork.
'No harm done,' he said. No voice could be as calm as that without tremendous effort. 'You can barely see the hole. Why, er, are you shooting at the door, Master?'
'Use your common sense, man! It's dark outside and the damn walls are made of stone. You don't expect me to shoot at the damn walls?'
'Ah,' said the Bursar. 'The door is, er, five hundred years old, you know,' he added, with finely-tuned reproach.
'Looks it,' said the Archchancellor, bluntly. 'Damn great black thing. What we need around here, man, is a lot less stone and wood and a bit more jolliness. A few sportin' prints, yer know. An ornament or two.'
'I shall see to it directly,' lied the Bursar smoothly. He remembered the sheaf of papers under his arm. 'In the meantime, Master, perhaps you would care to-'
'Right,' said the Archchancellor, ramming his pointed hat on his head. 'Good man. Now, got a sick dragon to see to. Little devil hasn't touched his tar oil for days.'
'Your signature on one or two of-' the Bursar burbled hurriedly.
'Can't be havin' with all that stuff,' said the Archchancellor, waving him away. 'Too much damn paper around here as it is. And-' He stared through the Bursar, as if he had just remembered something. 'Saw a funny thing this mornin',' he said. 'Saw a monkey in the quad. Bold as brass.'
'Oh, yes,' said the Bursar, cheerfully. 'That would be the Librarian.'
'Got a pet, has he?'
'No, you misunderstand me, Archchancellor,' said the Bursar cheerfully. 'That was the Librarian.'
The Archchancellor stared at him.
The Bursar's smile began to glaze.
'The Librarian's a monkey?'
It took some time for the Bursar to explain matters clearly, and then the Archchancellor said: 'What yer tellin' me, then, is that this chap got himself turned into a monkey by magic?'
'An accident in the Library, yes. Magical explosion. One minute a human, next minute an orang-utan. And you mustn't call him a monkey, Master. He's an ape.'
'Same damn difference, surely?'
'Apparently not. He gets very, er, aggressive if you call him a monkey.'
'He doesn't stick his bottom at people, does he?'
The Bursar closed his eyes and shuddered. 'No, Master. You're thinking of baboons.'
'Ah.' The Archchancellor considered this. 'Haven't got any of them workin' here, then?'
'No, Master. Just the Librarian, Master.'
'Can't have it. Can't have it, yer know. Can't have damn great hairy things shambling around the place,' said the Archchancellor firmly. 'Get rid of him.'
'Good grief, no! He's the best Librarian we've ever had. And tremendous value for money.'
'Why? What d'we pay him?'
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