The other looked up.
"I'm afraid we haven't," he said. "Another gentleman was in here asking for it just a few minutes ago."
"Good God!" cried Aubrey. "Did he get it?"
This emphasis brought no surprise to the bookseller, who was accustomed to the oddities of edition hunters.
"No," he said. "We didn't have a copy. We haven't seen one for a long time."
"Was he a little bald man with a red beard and bright blue eyes?" asked Aubrey hoarsely.
"Yes—Mr. Mifflin of Brooklyn. Do you know him?"
"I should say I do!" cried Aubrey. "Where has he gone? I've been hunting him all over town, the scoundrel!"
The bookseller, douce man, had seen too many eccentric customers to be shocked by the vehemence of his questioner.
"He was here a moment ago," he said gently, and gazed with a mild interest upon the excited young advertising man. "I daresay you'll find him just outside, in Ludlow Street."