The Collectors

“Jonathan has a 1640 Bay Psalm Book.”

“That is not possible.”

“I held it.”

“No, you did not.”

“I did!” Caleb insisted.

Pearl waved a hand dismissively. “It’s a later edition, then. Hardly earth-shattering.”

“It has no music. That started with the ninth edition in 1698.”

Pearl eyed Caleb severely. “Doubtless you won’t be surprised to learn that I am aware of that. But, as you point out, there are seven other editions that have no music.”

“It was the 1640 edition. The year was printed on the title page.”

“Then, my dear sir, it’s either a facsimile or a forgery. People are very clever. One ambitious fellow re-created the Oath of a Freeman, which antedates the Psalm Book by one year.”

Stone interjected, “But I thought the 1640 Bay Psalm Book was the first printed book in America.”

“It is,” Pearl said impatiently. “The Oath wasn’t a book; it was a one-page document called a broadsheet. As its name suggests, it was an oath, a pledge of allegiance if you will, that each Puritan male took in order to vote and enjoy other privileges in the Massachusetts Bay Colony.”

“And it was forged?” Stone said.

“Ironically, the forger used a facsimile of the Psalm Book. He did so because it was struck on the same press as the Oath and by the same printer and thus utilized the same printing type.” Pearl tapped Caleb on the chest. “The criminal was very ingenious, with the result that he very nearly duped your Library of Congress into buying it. Only when an expert in printing presses noted certain irregularities was the deceit uncovered.”

Caleb said, “I’ve worked in the Rare Books Division for over a decade. I’ve examined the Psalm Book that we have. In my opinion Jonathan’s is real.”

Pearl eyed Caleb suspiciously. “What was your name again?”

Caleb’s pink face now turned red. “Caleb Shaw!”

“Well, Shaw, did you run the standard authentication tests on the book?”

“No, but I looked at it, held it, smelled it.”

“My God, man, you can’t possibly be certain from such a rudimentary examination. DeHaven simply did not have that sort of a collection. A Tamerlane, a few incunabula, even the Dante, which I sold him, by the way, constituted the heart and soul of his rare books. No first-edition Psalm Book was ever a part thereof.”

“So where did Jonathan get the book?” Caleb asked.

Pearl shook his head. “How could I possibly know that?” He looked at the others. “As your friend may have told you, there are only eleven existing Bay Psalm Books in the world out of the original print run. Just think about that, gentlemen. By comparison there are 228 Shakespeare First Folios, but only eleven Psalm Books on the entire earth. And of that number only five are in complete condition.” He held up the fingers of his right hand. “Only five,” he added with great solemnity.

As Stone stared at the luminous black eyes that seemed to pour out of the deep sockets like oil escaping the earth, it was clear to him that a spiritual diagnosis of Vincent Pearl would clearly reveal that he too suffered from bibliomania.

The bookseller turned back to Caleb. “And since all eleven are accounted for, I can hardly see how one made its way to the collection of Jonathan DeHaven.”

“So why keep a forgery locked up in a vault?” Caleb countered.

“Perhaps he thought it was real.”

“The head of the Rare Books Division fooled by a forged book?” Caleb said contemptuously. “I seriously doubt that.”

Pearl was unperturbed. “As I said before, the library was nearly deceived into buying a fake Oath. People will believe what they want to believe, and book collectors are not immune to that impulse. In my experience self-delusion knows no boundaries.”

“Maybe it would be better if you came by Jonathan’s house so you can see for yourself that the Psalm Book is an original,” Caleb said stubbornly.

Pearl stroked his unruly beard with the long, delicate fingers of his right hand while he kept his withering gaze on Caleb.

“And of course, I would welcome your expert opinion on the rest of the collection,” Caleb added in a calmer tone.

“I believe I might have some time tomorrow evening,” Pearl said in a clearly disinterested manner.

“That would be fine,” Caleb said, handing him a card. “Here’s my number at the library, just call to confirm. Do you have Jonathan’s address?”

“Yes, in my files.”

“I think it best not to mention the existence of the Psalm Book to anyone, Mr. Pearl, at least for now.”