Exham lifted the arm of the phonograph and inserted a new needle into the round head from the box that swung out from the side of the case, sucking in his breath as an errant needle pricked his finger. He then cranked up the handle that drove the clockwork, slid the mustard spoon-shaped lever to the left to start the turntable spinning, and carefully lowered the head onto the disc, lining up the needle with the wider spaced leader grooves at the very edge. There was a rasping hiss and then the solo flute introduction, followed a few bars later by the sublime voice of Caruso, and the full genius of Puccini flowed, a little scratchily, around the walls of the library and into his soul.
He sat again in his chair, adjusting the bell mouth of the speaker so that it played more directly to his
