enberg's
time. Handwork, of course, by some old monk. Very curious and very
interesting. And you say there are two others like this one?"

The hunchback, whose big, shaggy head reached but a very little above
the case over which the colloquy was taking place, stretched himself
upon his toes as if to see Felix the better. "You seem to know something
of books, sir," he remarked in a surprised tone. "May I ask where you
picked it up?"

Again Felix smiled, a curious expression lurking around his thin lips--a
way with him when he intended to be non-committal. He was now more
interested in the speaker than in the object before him, especially in
the big dome head and sunken eyes, shaded by bushy eyebrows, the only
feature of the man which seemed to have had a chance to grow to its
normal size. He had caught, too, a certain high-pitched note, one of
suffering running through the hunchback's speech--often discernible
in those who have been robbed of their full physical strength and
completeness.

"Oh, I don't know, Mr. Kelsey. There are, as you know, but few old clamp
books like this in existence. There are some in the Bibliotheque in
Paris, and a good many in Spain. I remember handling one some years ago
in Cordova. When you have seen a fine example you are not apt to forget
it. Why do you sell it?"

Kelsey settled down upon his heels--the upper half of his misshapen body
telescoping the lower--and shoved both hands into his pockets. "I did
not come here to sell it"--there was a touch of irony in his voice--"I
came to find out whether Kling could sell it. Do you think YOU could?"

"I might, or I might not. Only a few people about here, so I understand,
can appreciate this sort of thing."

"What is it worth?" He was still eying him closely. People who praised
his things were those who never wanted to buy.

"Not very much," replied Felix.

"Oh, but I thought you said it was very rare?"

"So it is--almost too rare--and almost too old. If it had been done
fifty or more years later, on one of Gutenberg's presses, Quaritch might
give you two thousand pounds for it. Hand-work--which ought really to be
more valuable than machine-work--is worth pence, where the other sells
for pounds. One of Gutenberg's Bibles sold here a year ago for three
thousand guineas, so I am told. What are the other two like?"

"No difference--a clasp is gone from one. The other is--" He stopped,
his mien suddenly changing to one of marked respect,