Waterbury evening Democrat., 1907-08-30


 tarnished gold lettering the name of its owner, and under this were two broad windows divided by squat door, open on week days from in the morning until s at night. Within, the shop was dark and had a musty odor.
 On either side of the quaint old house was butchers and bakers Haunting places of business, raw in their newness. Between the first named establishment and the book shop low, narrow passage led to a small back yard and to a flight of slimy steps, down which clients who did not wish to be seen could arrive at kind of cellar to transact business with Aaron Norman.
 This individual combined two dis tinct trades. On the ground floor he sold secondhand books; in the cellar he bought jewels and gave money on the same to needy people. In the shop, pale youths, untidy, abstracted old men, spectacled girls and all varieties of the pundit caste were to be seen boring over ancient volumes or ex- changing words with the proprietor. But to the cellar came fast young men, aged spendthrifts, women of no repu- tation and some who were very re- spectable indeed. These usually came at night, and in the cellar transactions would take place which involved much money exchanging hands. In the daytime MT. Norman was an innocent bookseller, but after he retired to the cellar and became as genuine a pawnbroker as could be found in London. Touching books he was easy enough to deal with, but Shylock as regards jewels and money lent. With his bookish clients he passed for a dull shopkeeper who knew little about literature; but in the under ground establishment he was spoken of by those who came to pawn as a usurer of the worst In an underhand way he did deal of business.
 It was this strange man that Paul Beecot encountered in the doorway Of the Gwynne street shop the day after his meeting with Hay. Many a visit had Paul paid to that shop and not all ways to buy books. Norman knew him very well, and, recognizing him in a feeting look as he passed through the doorway, smiled weakly. Behind the counter stood Bart Tawsey, the lean underling, who was much sharper with buyers than was his master, but after disappointed glance in his direction Paul addressed himself to the book seller. T wish 10 see you particular ly," he said, with his eager air.
 q am going out on important busi- ness," said Norman, but if you will not be very long"
 'It's about brooch wish to pawn"
 The old mans mouth became hard and his eyes sharper. q can't attend to that now, MT. Beecot," he said, and his voice rang out louder than usual. After 7.'
 Its only 6 now," said Paul, looking over his shoulder at church clock which could be seen clearly in the pale summer twilight. T can't wait"
 "Well, then, as you are an old cus- tomer-of books said Aaron, with em- phasis, "I'll stretch point. You can go below at quarter to [, and I'll come round through the outside pas sage to see you. Meantime I must go about my business" and he went away with his head hanging and his solitary eye searching the ground as usual.
 Paul, in spite of his supposed hurry, was not i'll pleased that Aaron had gone out and that there was an idle hour before him. He stepped lightly into the shop, and under the fiaring gas-which was lighted, so dark was the interior of the shop in spite of the luminous gloaming-he encountered the smile of Barty. Paul, who was sen sitive and proudly reticent. grew red. He knew we'll enough that his appar- ent admiration of Sylvia Norman had attracted the notice of Bart and of the red armed wench, Deborah Junk, who was the factotum of the household. Not that he minded, for both these servants were devoted to Sylvia and knowing that she returned the feelings of Paul said nothing about the posi- ton to Aaron. Beecot could not afford to make enemies of the pair and had no wish to do so. TAsy were coarse grained and common, but loyal and kindly of heart.
 "Got any new books. Bart" asked Beecot, coming forward with rowing eyes, for he hoped to see Sylvia glide out of the darkness to bless his hungry eyes.
 "No, sir. We never get new books" replied Bart smartly. "Leastways there's a batch of secondhand. novels published last year. But bless you. MT. Beecot there amt nothing new about them 'cept the bindings"
 You are severe. Bart. I hope to be Q novelist myself"
 "We need one, sir. For the most part them as write now a.n't novelists if that means telling anything as is new. But I must go upstairs. sir. Miss Sylvia said was to tell tsr when you came"
 ''oh. yes-er-er-that is-she wants to see photograph of my old hons. I promised to show 1t to her" Paul took a parcel out of his pocket. Cant I go upf"
 No, sir. 'Twouldn't be wise. The old man may come back. and if he knew as you'd been in his house." Bart jerked his head toward the cell Ing. he'd take it."
 Why? He doesn't think I'm after