You reach forward and tentatively push the door. It's unlocked, and swings open with ease - it must have been oiled recently.
The room you enter is quite small and cramped. Bookshelves heaped with dusty tomes fill every wall. A small desk covered in papers stands before you, and sitting at it, scribbling with a quill, is an extremely old man. His hair is grey, and his long beard and moustache touch the floor. Round spectacles perch precariously on his sharp nose, magnifying two watery blue eyes.
He doesn't seem to have noticed you.