Comes a Stranger by E.R. Punshon Read Free Book Online Page B

was properly organized in any country so that America and Australia have their own Incunabula. After all, the word only means swaddling clothes. But these of mine are all pre-1500.”
    â€œI suppose they are awfully valuable,” Bobby remarked.
    â€œWell—er—to be perfectly frank, their value’s a good deal exaggerated in popular idea. Of course, there are exceptions—the great 42-line Bible, for instance, or the 36-line Bible for that matter, and others of real interest. But most of them are just school books—Delectuses, Latin grammars, Donatuses. Catlo’s Delectus had a big circulation in the fifteenth century. I was offered another copy the other day. The owner wanted a thousand pounds for it. He thought I was trying to swindle him when I suggested—well, a good deal less. But after he had tried the Museum, and Christie’s, and one or two other places he was glad to come back and take what I gave him. All the same, Mr. Owen, they form the foundation on which the library has been built up. But for them”—Mr. Broast’s voice took on a slow solemnity of tone—“the Kayne collection would never have come into existence.”
    â€œOh,” said Bobby, quite puzzled. “You mean you began with them?”
    â€œNot quite that. I use them as counters—trading counters. I am always ready to buy any—at a fair market price. Then I put them on the shelves. I’ve got three Hours of the Virgin there at present—two of the Sarum use and one York. It was the laymen’s prayer book at that time, you know. Some rich man hears of the library and comes to look round. He has money—he wants culture. The possession of a few rare books or paintings give him that, he thinks, gives him an aroma of that taste and scholarship he does not even begin to understand. As a favour, therefore, I let him buy one or two Incunabula. I can tell you, Mr. Owen, that word alone has been worth hundreds of pounds to the library. Lots of people find it most impressive; it seems to have the same effect on them that Mesopotamia had on the old lady in the story. I can often sell for twenty, fifty, even a hundred times what I gave.”
    He chuckled delightedly, and Bobby gave a polite smile, though wondering inwardly whether all this was quite honest. But collectors always had, he supposed, their own standards, and then, too, the purchasers Mr. Broast described were all probably rich enough to gratify their vanity and their wish to be looked upon as patrons of art and learning. Probably they got full value by being able to say to their friends that they had secured the treasure they were showing from the famous Kayne library (‘didn’t half like parting, either’). Probably, too, the higher the price they could quote, the greater the interest and admiration displayed by their friends.
    As honest as a good many other business deals, Bobby decided. Was it not written long ago that between buying and selling sin sticketh close as the mortar between bricks?
    â€œNow, this other section I don’t sell from,” continued Mr. Broast, who, with his strange, uncanny sensibility, seemed to know what doubts were passing through Bobby’s mind. “Complete,” he said proudly, “complete and unique. Every book without exception published by the Aldine Press—eight hundred and twenty and three, and every one represented here.”
    â€œHow interesting,” said Bobby, who had heard of the Aldine Press, and to show his general knowledge and interest he added: —“I suppose you’ve the Elzivirs, too?”
    Mr. Broast gave him a baleful glare.
    â€œI wouldn’t have an Elzivir on my shelves except to sell again,” he snarled. “Second rate in every way, printing, scholarship, everything. The only thing about them was that they were small so they would go in your pocket. That’s how they got to be so fashionable,