“But,” Lucile hesitated, “this case is different. The mystery still exists. Why does Monsieur Le Bon want the books? He has not sold a single volume. Something must be done about the books from the university, the Scientific Library and the Bindery.”
“That’s true,” said Frank Morrow thoughtfully. “There are angles to the case that are interesting, very interesting. Mind if I smoke?”
Lucile shook her head.
“Thanks.” He filled and lighted his pipe. “Mind going over the whole story again?”
“No, not a bit.”
She began at the beginning and told her story. This time he interrupted her often and it seemed that, as he asked question after question, his interest grew as the story progressed.
“Now I’ll tell you what to do,” he held up a finger for emphasis as she concluded. He leaned far forward and there was a light of adventure in his eye. “I’ll tell you what you do. Here’s a hundred dollars.” He drew a roll of bills from his pocket. “You take this money and buy yourself a ticket to New York. You can spare the week-end at least. When you get to New York, go to Burtnoe’s Book Store and ask for Roderick Vining. He sold me that copy of ‘The Compleat Angler.’ I sent out a bid for such a book when I had a customer for it and he was one of two who responded. His book was the best of the two, so I took it. He is in charge of fine binding in the biggest book store in his city. They deal in new books, not secondhand ones, but he dabbles in rare volumes on the side. Tell him that I want to know where he got the book; take the book along, to show you are the real goods. When he tells you where, then find that person if you can and ask him the same question. Keep going until you discover something. You may have to hunt up a half dozen former owners but sooner or later you will come to an end, to the place where that book crossed the sea. And unless I miss my guess, that’s mighty important.
“I am sorry to have to send you—wish I could go myself,” he said after a moment’s silence. “It will be an interesting hunt and may even be a trifle dangerous, though I think not.”
“But this money, this hundred dollars?” Lucile hesitated, fingering the bills.
“Oh, that?” he smiled. “That’s the last of my profit on the little book. We’ll call that devoted to the cause of science or lost books or whatever you like.