“Would you like to see some old books and get a notion of their value?” he asked.
“Indeed I would.”
“Step in here.” He led the way into the mysterious dark room. There he switched on a light to reveal walls packed with books.
“Here’s a little thing,” he smiled, taking down a volume which would fit comfortably into a man’s coat pocket; “Walton’s Compleat Angler. It’s a first edition. Bound in temporary binding, vellum. What would you say it was worth?”
“I—I couldn’t guess. Please don’t make me,” Lucile pleaded.
“Sixteen hundred dollars.”
Again Lucile stared at him in astonishment. “That little book!”
“You see,” he said, motioning her a seat, “rare books, like many other rare things, derive their value from their scarcity. The first edition of this book was very small. Being small and comparatively cheap, the larger number of the books were worn out, destroyed or lost. So the remaining books have come to possess great value. The story—”
He came to an abrupt pause, arrested by a look of astonishment on the girl’s face, as she gazed at the book he held.
“Why, what—” he began.