The victim now attempted to put on an air of geniality, and tried to enter into conversation with his tormentor.
“He does know about books,” thought Blinton, “and he must have a weak spot somewhere.”
So the wretched amateur made play in his best conversational style. He talked of bindings, of Maioli, of Grolier, of De Thou, of Derome, of Clovis Eve, of Roger Payne, of Trautz, and eke of Bauzonnet. He discoursed of first editions, of black letter, and even of illustrations and vignettes. He approached the topic of Bibles, but here his tyrant, with a fierce yet timid glance, interrupted him.
“Buy those!” he hissed through his teeth.
“Those” were the complete publications of the Folk Lore Society.
Blinton did not care for folk lore (very bad men never do), but he had to act as he was told.
Then, without pause or remorse, he was charged to acquire the ‘Ethics’ of Aristotle, in the agreeable versions of Williams and Chase. Next he secured ‘Strathmore,’ ‘Chandos,’ ‘Under Two Flags,’ and ‘Two Little Wooden Shoes,’ and several dozens more of Ouida’s novels. The next stall was entirely filled with school-books, old geographies, Livys, Delectuses, Arnold’s ‘Greek Exercises,’ Ollendorffs, and what not.
“Buy them all,” hissed the fiend. He seized whole boxes and piled them on Blinton’s head.
He tied up Ouida’s novels, in two parcels, with string, and fastened each to one of the buttons above the tails of Blinton’s coat.
“You are tired?” asked the tormentor. “Never mind, these books will soon be off your hands.”