Chapter 26
It happened suddenly, just before closing. The streets were emptying, and Celia and Daphne were closing up when, without warning,
four black sedans drove past, then spread out and blocked the avenue at its junction with Twelfth Street.
Two additional sedans, also black, drove up and came to a stop; Celia found herself wondering where they got all those black
automobiles.
Mr. Kirsch had come outside, taken one look, and rushed back inside. He wasn’t hiding. He was rallying the troops. Anthony
Comstock was out for revenge.
The rest of the avenue was suddenly bare. But Celia knew this time the other owners up and down the street wouldn’t just peer
out their windows and pray their store wouldn’t be next. And she knew where they were going. The morality man was having a
tantrum and was taking it out on the Applebaums. But as she’d learned from the hearing, if he took on one, he took on all.
Still, she wished it hadn’t been because of her.
The telephone rang; she didn’t bother to answer.
No one was ordering a book this time of night.
They were calling to warn her of Comstock’s approach, as if she needed any warning.
The phone stopped ringing, Olivia must have picked it up from her office.
So much for Comstock being fired.
Two more sedans pulled up to the curb and stopped. Four men jumped out of the first. One ran to the second sedan and opened
the back door. A figure stepped out, and Celia automatically stepped back.
The reality of him striding toward her, flanked by his men, was right out of a dime novel—novels that he had confiscated during
his tenure as postal inspector—and made her take a step back, but only a step.
She loathed him but still couldn’t quite bring herself to back down.
And this evening his appearance gave her strength. He stepped into the store right in front of her and Daphne, who tacitly
had closed ranks until they were standing side by side. He strode toward them with his chest puffed out like a strutting rooster,
just like he looked in the newspaper cartoons. It was intimidating; even his massive sideburns looked like they wanted to
fly off his face. And to her horror, a giggle bubbled up from deep inside her.
“You think . . .” he began, his voice low and menacing.
She couldn’t think about anything but the cartoon that mocked him. It must be some kind of hysteria that made her want to
laugh in his face. And that would be a disaster. She bit the inside of her cheek until it bought tears to her eyes.
Daphne stood still as a statue beside her.
Then she heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Olivia to the rescue.
She stepped off the stairs and stormed toward him, pushing Celia and Daphne out of the way. She stepped up to Comstock, right in his face, though she had to look up to do it.
“It’s closing time. If you wish to purchase a book, I’m afraid you’ll have to come back tomorrow between the hours of nine
and six.” Olivia’s voice was even and controlled and slightly congenial. So controlled and congenial that both Daphne and
Celia knew just how angry she was. “And if you’ve not come here to purchase a book, I must remind you that this is private
property and you need to leave the premises immediately.”
A swell of pride toward her sister took Celia by surprise.
Comstock continued to scan the area, then he stepped past Olivia, leaving the doorway free for his men to swarm in behind
him.
Olivia strode after him. “If you intend to stay longer, I must insist you show me the warrant to search my establishment.”
Comstock snorted. “Your establishment. You dare to—” He glanced toward the stairs. “What’s up there?”
“A floor of reading rooms and my office. The rest are our living quarters.”
Comstock’s color heightened. “Just you and . . .” He made a gesture toward Celia and Daphne, which was simple but somehow
suggestive.
“My sisters,” Olivia added quickly.
“Huh. Three single women . . . Books are feeders for brothels, and that’s just what you’re running here under the cover of
a respectable business. You’ve been seen taking men upstairs.”
Celia saw red. She could feel Daphne shivering beside her. But whether from fear or anger, Celia wasn’t sure. She slowly slipped
her hand into her sister’s and gave it a squeeze. Don’t react.
“You know very well they are book buyers,” Olivia said smoothly. “Not that you have any business asking about it.”
“Men conspire against me, but I will win out in the end. The courts are—”
“Not going to give you a different verdict, Mr. Comstock,” said Olivia. “Your days are over.”
Comstock threw both arms out, and the men behind him spread throughout the shop.
“This is against the law,” Olivia said. “I will see you in jail.”
“Show us that woman’s work, and I’ll not bother you again.”
Celia sucked in her breath. What woman? Margaret or Sappho?
“I didn’t realize you were hard of hearing, sir. The shop is closed!!” Olivia shouted.
The sounds of books hitting the ground, followed by a hissing sound and the dart of a calico cat dashing into the stacks,
made them all turn around.
“Jane!” the sisters cried.
Comstock’s men searched the aisles, pulling out books, sometimes letting them fall, sometimes throwing them to the floor.
They had no respect for the books or the fact that they were trespassing.
“Who are these men?” Olivia demanded. “Not agents of the post office or the society.”
“I still have friends in both.”
There had to be a dozen, renegades or hired thugs, they were systematically going through the stacks destroying things indiscriminately.
Several headed toward the stairs.
“Olivia,” Celia whispered urgently, “they’re going upstairs.” Those men couldn’t be allowed on the third floor. They would
destroy priceless books. They had to be stopped somehow.
Olivia whirled around. “Stop,” she ordered, as the first two men rounded the landing. “I said stop!” She turned on Comstock. He seemed to tower over her, but she wasn’t fazed. “You have no right to enter more than this first
floor. I swear I will have you and your hired thugs arrested if you don’t cease and desist this moment.”
Daphne tugged at Celia’s sleeve. Celia ignored her. The tension was so thick she was afraid the smallest movement might break
it. Daphne tugged again. “It’s him!”
“What?”
“The man with glasses. He just—”
The shop was suddenly filled with booksellers and familiar customers, swarming in to clear the shop of its uninvited visitors.
“What?” Celia called, but her sister had been gobbled up by the crowd.
Comstock bellowed. “I’ll arrest every one of you!”
“You have no arrest powers here,” Mr. Henderson bellowed back. He motioned other shop owners into the store. “Rid the shop
of these intruders.”
“Gladly,” answered Mr. Krause, who was still wearing his butcher’s apron. It gave an authority to his voice that didn’t go
unheeded. It took only a few minutes for the thugs to be forcefully ushered out, two by the seat of their trousers.
The store cleared out rapidly; the last of the agents were being escorted down the stairs by Officers O’Halloran and Sullivan,
who had somehow entered without Celia noticing them.
“This looks like the last of the lot,” O’Halloran said as he escorted one of the thugs toward the door. As they passed Daphne’s
The Lost Prince display, the thug purposely tripped and fell, sending the books and poster to the floor.
In the struggle to get him back on his feet, Celia saw him slip a copy of The Lost Prince into his jacket. Probably to take home to his kid, the cheapskate. As O’Halloran helpfully yanked him upright, the culprit
managed to tread on the poster before being forcibly ejected through the door.
“Wait a minute!” Celia burst out. “I saw that man steal a book. Pay for it or put it back.”
The man who had knocked down the display laughed. “Confiscated.” And he kept walking. Officer O’Halloran grabbed him by the
collar and yanked him back.
Olivia stepped in front of him and held out her hand. “You heard her. The book, please.”
The thug made an elaborate show of reaching into his coat and pulling out the book, then he elbowed Olivia out of the way
in one swift movement.
“And assault,” Daphne cried. “You’ll go to jail.”
Officer O’Halloran yanked the guy practically off his feet. “You heard the lady—you’ll be spending the night at the city’s
expense. I have half a mind to run the whole lot of you in.” He pushed the man out the door.
Finding himself deserted, Comstock hesitated, then turned to the three Applebaums. “Know this. You are in my sights. Being
women and susceptible to temptation is no excuse. I will be back.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Olivia countered. “You, sir, have crossed your Rubicon.”
His foot checked only for a second, then he turned to find Officer Sullivan waiting to help him to his automobile.
There was a brief staring match between the two, but Comstock finally turned and walked out the door, pausing long enough
to sweep his arm across the display window, toppling the books arranged there, before striding out of the shop.
Throughout the store, their colleagues and friends had started picking up volumes and replacing them on the shelves. It took less than two hours to reshelve the books.
“Not sure we got them all in the right places, but at least they’re off the floor,” said Mr. Krause as they were all leaving.
“I wouldn’t worry about further molestation from him,” said Mr. Kirsch. “I think this was his last hoorah, though I will be
filing a complaint with the society. That should take care of any more antics from that quarter.”
“Thank you all,” Celia said. “I don’t know if we could have stood up without your support and help.”
“We would have done the same for any of us. And you would do the same for any of us. Tell Miss Olivia to telephone if you
need any more help, anytime.” Mr. Krause touched his forehead and took his leave.
Yannis was the last to leave. “Will you be all right tonight? I don’t mind sleeping down here again.”