The tired old clerk sighs again. "Yes, yes, I was told I might need to pull that file for someone soon. Well, let's see what I've got, shall we?" Pushing up on the desk with no small effort, the old man gets out of his chair, which creaks almost as much as his bones do. Shuffling over to the shelves, he scans the parchments and little markers, looking for something. Finally, he finds it: an envelope, with a key. He reaches into his shirt and pulls out a necklace on which hang two large keys. "Just a moment."
Using one of the keys, he opens the right door and disappears for a moment. He comes back with a book. "Here it is." He sets it down on the desk and turns to lock the large door, and finally returns the key to its place on the shelves.
Seating himself, he continues, "Normally I wouldn't just let you take evidence like this. But according to the file, we haven't been able to glean a single scrap from that silly book. So I'm going to tell you to bring it back, but I honestly... don't care if you do or not." He stares for a moment, then shrugs and picks up his quill. "Anything else?"