Read Online The Vanishing Thief by Kate Parker - Free Book Online

out if I was right.”
    He gave my hands a squeeze. “Good luck. I want the bastard found, too. If he can be found. But for heaven’s sake, be careful.”
    * * *
    I WAS ALONE in the shop the next morning when the bell over the door jingled and a middle-aged man walked in. Portly, bearded, and balding, he was a caricature of a peer. Knowing a potentially large purchase when I see one, I hurried over to him with a welcoming smile. “May I help you? I’m the proprietor of Fenchurch’s Books.”
    He glanced around the shop rather than at me. “I’m the Duke of Merville.”
    I kept my smile in place with effort as astonishment nearly made me miss the man’s next words.
    â€œI understand from my man of affairs that you deal in antiquarian Bibles.”
    â€œI have a small selection, Your Grace, and I can check the catalogs for more.” I hoped my face reflected a helpful expression, since my mind was searching for a way to bring up Nicholas Drake’s thieving and Merville’s ride in the Duke of Blackford’s coach the night Drake disappeared.
    â€œI’m looking for something with gilt edges, no wormholes or brown spots or water stains. New Testament only, or just the Gospels. A good leather cover. Original, not rebound, in quarto or octavo size.”
    The Duke of Merville was obviously a collector of the best examples of antiquarian books. He sounded like a man who would appreciate the care I used in storing the rare books in my possession. “I keep the old books over here, away from outside walls, the floor, and the ceiling to keep the temperature constant, and behind brass wire rather than glass to ensure air can move freely around them.”
    He followed me behind the sales counter to the antiquarian shelves. Ordinarily, I’d have insisted he stay on the other side of the counter, but I didn’t want to start off by telling a duke to behave like a mere mortal. I put on my pair of cotton gloves, handed him a pair from the counter, and unlocked the ornate grille.
    â€œHow much do you plan to spend?”
    â€œHow much is a volume meeting my expectations?”
    â€œI have an octavo-sized Gospels meeting your requirements for”—he was a duke and I wanted this sale—“twenty pounds.” I pulled the book out and held it away from him while I stared at his hands.
    With pursed lips, he yanked off his leather gloves and put on the cotton ones. Then he held out his hand. I passed him the volume and held my breath. The duke was knowledgeable, but was he careful with fragile things?
    He examined the cover, which was cracked in a few places from heat sometime in the past, and ruffled the pages enough to send up a puff of dust. “Eighteenth century?”
    â€œPossibly late seventeenth. The printer worked in both.”
    â€œDo you have something a little more modern, with a cover in better shape?”
    So he was one of those, who only cared how the cover looked on his shelves. I put back the book he’d examined and pulled out a quarto New Testament covered in pristine black leather. “This is late eighteenth century and kept in very careful circumstances. The price reflects its condition.”
    I believed it had been kept at the bedside of the first owner, a woman who’d possessed it for all of her long life, which explained the book’s still-elegant condition. I gently stroked the beautiful volume before I handed it over.
    He examined the book briefly. “I’ll give you fifty pounds for it.”
    I’d never thought I’d hear those words. I’d expected to bargain him up to forty-five at most. “A most discerning purchase. I’ll wrap it for you.”
    â€œI need something appropriate for my daughter to carry down the aisle at her wedding. Then I’ll add it to my collection.” He pulled off the cotton gloves and walked to the other side of the counter as he pulled on his