Without further ado Steinman counted out the money and Libro departed. He, however, went out one door and came in by another. It was the first time that he had entered the half of the establishment where the unredeemed merchandise is sold. On this side he was a patron and not to be patronized.
"How much for that old book?" said Libro boldly.
"Ten dollars," answered Steinman in a surprised tone. This was a new dodge, a customer pledging one article to obtain money to purchase another!
It was Libro's turn now; but he was not used to the game. "I shall give you five dollars. Not a cent more."
"No. Ten dollars or nothing."
"All right. I'll take it; wrap it up."
He counted out the money and left. Steinman felt uneasy. He thought he saw the flicker of an unholy smile on Libro's face, as he passed through the swinging doors.
It is almost unnecessary to state that Libro sold the book—the only book he ever parted with—for a fabulous sum—more than its weight in gold,—and for many thousands of dollars. A noted collector purchased it immediately, and it is now the chief attraction of his wonderful library.
With the money jingling in his pocket he returned to the scene of his former misery. He was to redeem his pledges with the broker's own money.
"Steinman," he said, "collect all my things. I shall pay what I owe and take them with me."