I went immediately back to my tiny office at the end of the hallway where the broom closet should have been. Come to think of it, it probably was the broom closet until the library got funding to employ an intern.
I looked again at the documents in the slim folder. The letters included the mailing address and name of the donor, of course, but since he was deceased, I probably wouldn't get anywhere trying to contact him directly. On the other hand the clipping held a wealth of useful information. It gave the date of Mr. Honeycut's death, and the name of his next-of-kin. That was the one I wanted. It was an Elizabeth Honeycut, of Elmo, and even listed her contact information.
I telephoned her.
"I've been expecting your call, Mr., ..., I'm afraid I didn't get your name." I told her my name was "Goodwin", and that I was calling from the University Library, and then asked her if she remembered a bequest her deceased brother had made to the Library.
She told me that she knew about the donation, because it was in the will, and that she had all of Mr. Honeycut's books, but couldn't for the life of her understand why George would have wanted to give them to the library, or why the library would want to take them, but that I was certainly welcome to them. I would, however, have to pay for having them shipped.
I told her that I would come myself tomorrow to pick up the books. She said that would be just fine, and we agreed on 3:00, to give me time to drive there. Then she asked me if I knew where Elmo was.
I didn't, of course, and strangely enough, I said so. There was a pause. I could distinctly hear her not asking me the question, "Then how on earth could you know that you would be here by 3 o'clock?" She didn't ask the question, but very carefully told me where Elmo was. By an absolutely astounding stroke of luck, it was reachable by 3 o'clock tomorrow, if I got an early start.