“Hello, boys,” inquired Mr. Potts. “What can I do for you today? I have nothing in the way of swords or bayonets, but perhaps you’ll want something more useful, a can opener, for instance.”
Having delivered himself tactfully of his feeling toward war and the implements of war, Mr. Potts laughed and the cadets smiled pleasantly. Mr. Potts was harmless and they knew it. Jim showed him the broken blade and the others watched him closely.
“Do you keep Henry Rose steel saws?” Jim asked.
Mr. Potts took the saw, examined it, and nodded. “Yes, I do. Nice blade, just the right play and solidity to it, retails for—”
“Never mind that,” Jim cut him short, sensing Mr. Potts’ desire to talk at length. “Have you sold any lately?”
“I sold three of them to Peter Cozoza last week,” replied the Storekeeper, promptly.
“When was it?” Vench asked, eagerly.
“Last Monday,” Mr. Potts supplied. The cadets exchanged glances.
“Who is Peter Cozoza?” Hudson put in.
“He is a laborer, lives over on Meadow Street, out by the swamps.”