"He was a collector, then?"
"In a small way. As I look back, he must have known a good deal about old books; but I had no interest then, so they made little impression."
Huntington glanced around at the shelves critically.
"Classics, classics, classics!" he cried. "Good heavens, man, do you mean to tell me that you haven't any modern books at all?"
Hamlen flushed. "There are many of these which I don't know well yet," was his reply. "Until then why should I accept counterfeits?"
Huntington had already found the shelf which held the incunabula and the later examples of printing.
"Jenson, Aldus—ah, here is the 'Hypnerotomachia Poliphili,' and a splendid copy! That is the only illustrated volume Aldus ever issued," he explained to Merry as he turned the pages. "Here is where you found that half-diamond formation of the type," he added, speaking to Hamlen, and pointing to the printed page.
Hamlen bent forward. "I didn't even remember that it had ever been used," he said. "I simply felt the necessity of filling out my page."
"So did Aldus," Huntington answered significantly. "Here is one of Étienne's Greek books. Splendid work, isn't it? And yet, after giving France the crown of typographical supremacy which Italy had lost, he had to flee for his life because he wouldn't let his books be censored!"
"My father had a fine copy of Plantin's 'Polyglot Bible.'" Hamlen drew one of the massive volumes from the shelf.