"But it was an 'air-drawn dagger'—it was imaginary," I began.
And then the old story about the man and his mongoose recurred to me, and I stopped. I looked in the box, and, of course, found it empty. The collector of weapons laughed and seemed greatly delighted with his little joke. I judged that he was accustomed to play it on every visitor.
"What is this bottle? It seems out of place here."
"Not at all," replied Mr. Gooch; "it is Falstaff's pocket pistol. This cane once belonged to Mr. Wackford Squeers, but it was used on only one occasion, and then against the owner himself, by Nicholas Nickleby."
He then showed me a sword broken near the hilt.
"It was Henry Esmond's. He broke it when he denied the Prince, and heaped reproaches upon him for going dangling after Beatrix, when the opportunity of his life was at hand. Little the Prince cared! He deigned, a few moments later, to cross swords with Esmond, and Frank used this broken blade to strike up their weapons. It was such a condescension! Esmond knew the Prince to be worthless, and he had just been insulting him in every way he could think. But he was of the sacred blood of the Stuarts—enough for any Jacobite. You will find a full account of it in the novel, if you care to refresh your memory. This is a cigar-cutter's knife—a curious weapon, isn't it? Carmen used it to slash the face of the woman she quarreled with—she cut a neat St. Andrew's cross on her enemy's cheek. That led to her subsequent arrest by Don José, the escape at which he connived, and all the train of events which followed. This is the knife that Don José killed Carmen with."
"How did you get all these weapons?" I asked him.
"Oh, in various ways. It requires a great deal of patience, some money, and some imagination. I traveled for three or four years, but since then I have had to employ agents. Some authors would almost fill this room by themselves, if I cared to collect all the weapons for which they are responsible. See all those spears and broadswords—that is my Sir Thomas Malory corner. Walter Scott covered almost that entire wall—spears, claymores, daggers, battleaxes and pistols. I could not get the sword of Saladin—that, like some other valuable pieces, is owned by a Virtuoso, of whom you may have heard. This sword was used by Rudolf Rassendyll—he employed it in freeing the prisoner of Zenda. A revolver would have been quicker, probably, but not half so picturesque. I was glad to get that sword, but I soon had to stop buying the mass of cutlery that came into the market shortly after it was forged. I could have filled my house with it. Poor weapons they were, mostly. See those rapiers over the fireplace—they are of the finest temper, and came from Alexandre Dumas. The one on the left, of somewhat the same shape, was used by A Gentleman of France. That spear was carried by the squire of Sir Nigel Loring when he rode into Spain at the head of the White Company. There is the good broadsword of young Lochinvar, and this is the sword with which Horatius held the bridge in the brave days of old."
"The one with which he killed the Lord of Luna?'
"Precisely. How does it go?"