CHAPTER X. BOBS AS BOOKSELLER
It was three o'clock in the afternoon when Bobs entered the musty bookshop on the East Side and found the place unoccupied. However, thetinkling of a bell sounded in the back room and the little old manshuffled in. His expression was troubled, and when Roberta inquired forhis invalid wife, he replied that she wasn't so well. "Poor Marlitta," hesaid, and there was infinite tenderness in his voice, "she's yearning togo back to the home country where our children are and their children,and the doctor thinks it might make her strong once again to be there,but the voyage costs money, and Marlitta would rather die here than notgo honest."
The old man seemed to be overcome with emotion, then suddenly recallinghis customer's errand, he shuffled away to procure the package ofdetective stories for which she had called. During his absence Robertawent back of the counter, reached for a book on an upper shelf and, whileso doing, dislodged several others that tumbled about her, revealing, asthough it had been hidden in the dark recess back of them, the rare bookwhich that morning had been taken from the Queerwitz Antique Shop.
That, then, was what the old man meant when he said that his Marlittawould not go unless she could "go honest."
The girl quickly replaced the books and then stood deep in thought. Whatcould she do? What should she do? She knew that the gentle bookseller hadtaken the rare volume merely to try to save the life of the one dearestto him. When he returned with the package the girl heard herself asking:
"But you, if your Marlitta went to the home country, would you not bevery lonely?"
There was infinite sadness in the faded eyes and yet, too, there wassomething else, a light from the soul that true sacrifice brings.
"Ah, that I also might go," he said; then with a gesture that includedall of the small dark shop, he added, "but these old books are all I haveand they do not sell."
At that moment Roberta recalled the name of Lionel Van Loon, who, as MissPeerwinkle had assured her, would pay one thousand dollars for the rarebook and its mate. For a thoughtful moment the girl gazed at the lilac,then decided to tell the little old man all that she knew.
At first she regretted this decision when she saw the frightenedexpression in his gentle, child-like face, but she hastened to assure himthat she only wanted to help him, and so she was asking him to send thestolen book back to the antique shop by mail.
When this had been done, Roberta, returning from the corner post box,found the old man gazing sadly at another volume which the girl instantlyknew was the prized mate of the one she had just mailed.
"It's no use without the other," the bookseller told her, "and Mr.Queerwitz wouldn't pay what it's worth. He never does. He crowds the poorman to the wall and then crushes him."
"I have a plan," the girl told him. "Will you trust me with this book fora little while?"
Trust her? Who would not? For reply the old man held his treasure towardher. "Heaven bless you," was all that he said.
It was four o'clock when Bobs descended from a taxicab and mounted thesteps of a handsome brown stone mansion on Riverside Drive. Mr. Van Loonwas at home and, being a most kindly old gentleman and accustomed toreceiving all manner of persons, he welcomed Roberta into his wonderfullibrary, listened courteously at first, but with growing interest, whenhe realized that this radiant girl had a book to sell which she believedto be both rare and valuable. The eyes of the cultured gentleman plainlyrevealed his great joy when he actually saw the long-sought first volume.
"My dear young lady," he said, "you cannot know what it means to me to beable to obtain that book. I know where I can find its mate and so, Iassure you, I will purchase it, the price being?--" He pausedinquiringly.
Roberta heard, as though it were someone else speaking, her own voicesaying: "Would one thousand dollars be too much, Mr. Van Loon?"
To a man whose hobby was collecting books, and who was many times amillionaire, it was not too much. "Will you have cash or a check?" heinquired.
"Cash, if you please."
It was six o'clock when Bobs handed the money to the overjoyedbookseller, who could not thank her enough. The little old woman againwas by the window and she smiled happily as she listened to the words ofthe girl that fairly tumbled over each other in their eagerness to bespoken.
Then reaching out a frail hand to her "good man," and looking at him witha light in her eyes that Bobs would never forget, she said: "Caleb, nowwe can both go home to our children."
Roberta promised to return the following day to help them prepare for thevoyage. She was turning away when the little woman called to her: "I wantyou to have my lilac," she said, as she held the blossoming spray towardthe girl.
It was half past six o'clock when Bobs reached home. Gloria was watchingfor her rather anxiously, but it was not until they were gathered aboutthe fireplace for the evening that Bobs told her story.
"Here endeth my experience as a detective," she concluded.
But Roberta was mistaken.