as the property of the firm, but declined to prosecute on
account of the old ladies' ages. Grace admitted the theft, but said she
did not know what she was doing. A small fine was inflicted.

Even so astute a tradesman as Bernard Quaritch has been victimized by
the book-thief. These are his own words: 'A little dark man, of about
forty-five years of age, with a sallow complexion, apparently a Dutch or
German Jew, speaking in broken English in an undertone, introduced
himself, showing me a business card, "Wunderlich and Co." The following
day the pretended Wunderlich selected books from my stock to the amount
of L270, and said he would come again and select more. At the same time
the little dark, sallow man saw, but refused to buy, a very sweet little
"Livre d'Heures," with lovely miniatures in _camaieu-gris_, bound in
black morocco, with silver clasp. The price of this lovely MS. was 50
guineas. Since then this mysterious little dark man has disappeared, and
my very sweet little "Livre d'Heures," with its lovely miniatures, has
disappeared also.'

In 1891 Messrs. Sotheran and Co. discovered that a number of rare books
had been abstracted from their Strand shop, including a first edition of
Burns's 'Poems,' 1786; Shakespeare's 'Poems,' 1640, first edition, with
portrait by Marshall, and eleven extra leaves at the end; Heywood's
'Thyestes of Seneca,' 1560; and Piers Plowman's 'Vision and Crede,'
1561--all choice volumes. The Burns was valued at L30, and this was
traced a month or two after its sudden disappearance to a bookbinder,
who offered it to Mrs. Groves, who, however, wisely declined to lend
money on it. Subsequently the book was sent to Mr. Pearson, Exmouth,
who, knowing it had been stolen, at once communicated with the
prosecutors. Two of the other books were traced to New York, and were
returned to the firm at cost price. The enterprising bookbinder received
twelve months' hard.

Mr. Waller, the bookseller, formerly of Fleet Street, relates a rather
amusing incident connected with Thackeray: 'I think it was a book of
"Services" in four small volumes, two of which he already possessed, and
one, completing the set, he saw in my window. He came in, said he wanted
that book, and gleefully told how he had picked up the third a few
minutes before in Holywell Street. He dived into his pocket to show me
his precious "find." It was not there! Between Holywell Street and Fleet
Street someone had relieved him of it, in