The news of its loss was flashed over the entire world. Comment on its strange disappearance was general; articles appeared in the newspapers on how to safeguard the world's great literary treasures; the London Times had a leading article in which it was stated that "America did not deserve to own things of inestimable artistic and intellectual value if it did not know how to preserve them."
The first thing a gentleman does when he has been robbed is to call in a detective whose name is always a household word in novels and plays. Mr. Libro requested John Bunting to aid him with his advice, notwithstanding the fact that he had been overwhelmed with suggestions from every newspaper reporter in the United States and Canada.
At noon Bunting called. After asking the usual questions, which although a great detective, he did not disdain to do, he requested Mr. Libro to tell him the names of his guests of the night before.
"But, Mr. Bunting, I tell you I myself locked the case, put the key in my pocket, and retired. They could not possibly have extracted it in my presence, and I saw the last of them to the door."
"I would like their names."
"But I do not suspect any of them, Mr. Bunting."
"That is not so, Mr. Libro, if I may be permitted to say so. You do not care to admit it, but you suspect someone of that Literary Club."
"I am suspicious of my best friends, but dare not indicate any one. If you want their names, I shall tell you—James Blakely, the great authority on Elizabethan Poetry; Henry Sterling, of Sterling, Petty & Co.; Robert Rodd, who knows more about the first editions of Paradise Lost than anyone; Edward Stevens; James Janney—that's five—there were six,— Oh, yes, Robert Hooker. He is quite a student but does not possess the bank account to buy all the books he wants. He would spend a million a year if he had it. He was the underbidder on the Boccaccio. Yes, Mr. Bunting, Hooker came near owning it once. I sent an unlimited bid for it at the Sunderland Sale. He tried to buy it from the bookseller who acted as my agent, when he found his own bid had not been high enough."
"Mr. Libro, that is interesting. It was no ordinary thief, however, who took it. The ordinary New Yorker does not know the difference between that book and one by Marie Corelli!"
Bunting began the investigation at once. He followed zealously every clew. A few notorious criminals, who were seen in the immediate vicinity of the house, were interviewed without result. One of them, who had been noticed a block from the house shortly after midnight, was locked up on suspicion. He was discharged from custody the next morning as nothing could be proved against him. This individual, who was known to the police as "Booky" Phillips, had been arrested many times, but never convicted. The Chief found him quite placid under the rapid fire of his questions. He had read of the lost Boccaccio in the Herald, but did not understand why any "self-respecting thief would stoop to steal a worthless old book!"