And there were Caxtons, first edition Shakespeares, illuminated manuscripts, volumes printed privately for various kings and queens, bound sketch books containing exquisite aquarelles and chalk drawings by Bargue, Fortuny, Drouais, Boucher, John Downman; there were autographed monographs in manuscript; priceless order books of revolutionary generals, private diaries kept by men and women celebrated and notorious the world over.
But the heirs apparently preferred yachts and automobiles.
The library was displayed in locked glass cases, an attendant seated by each case, armed with a key and discretionary powers.
From where James White sat beside his particular case, he had a view of the next case and of the young girl seated beside it.
She was very pretty. No doubt, being out of[255] a job, like himself, she was glad to take this temporary position. She was so pretty she made his head ache. Or it might have been the ventilation.
It rained furiously; a steady roar on the glass roof overhead filled the long and almost empty gallery of Mr. Heikem, the celebrated auctioneer, with a monotone as dull and incessant as the business voice of that great man.
Here and there a spectacled old gentleman nosed his way from case to case, making at intervals cabalistic pencil marks on the margin of his catalogue—which specimen of compiled literature alone cost five dollars.
It was a very dull day for James White, and also, apparently, for the pretty girl in charge of the adjoining case. Nobody even asked either of them to unlock the cases; and it began to appear to young White that the books and manuscripts confided to his charge were not by any means the chefs-d'oeuvre of the collection.
They were a dingy looking lot of books, anyway. He glanced over the private list furnished him, read the titles, histories and pedigrees of the volumes, stifled a yawn, fidgetted in his chair, stared at the rain-battered glass roof overhead, mused lightly upon his misfortunes, shrugged his[256] broad shoulders, and glanced at the girl across the aisle.
She also was reading her private list. It seemed to bore her.