Mr. Crowberry agreed, and added a disloyal observation.
"But we shall make nothing of the comptroller," Antonio continued. "I find it is your law that the Queen can do no wrong. Her Majesty cannot be sued. Even if she could, it would be madness to try it. No. Here is my plan. We will let the comptroller off with a mere trifle—say, a hundred dozen. Then we will sell the bulk of the stuff to your nobility and gentry at a high price, on the strength of our having brought it over in a specially chartered vessel for the King, whose untimely decease has deranged the transaction."
Mr. Crowberry's face clouded. He had hoped to hear a less distasteful proposition. "I am not a Cheap Jack," he said a little stiffly.
"You misunderstand me," said Antonio, flushing. "I should hate puffing and touting as much as anybody. We won't print or even write a single line. We will go in person to your best clients and will offer them not more than fifty dozens each as a great favor. We will show them the original order and the comptroller's letter. The news will spread; and we shall get back all our outlay and collect most of our profit six months earlier than we should get a penny from the Queen."
Senhor Castro's partner tilted back his heavy chair on its hind legs and knitted his brows. At last he said:
"You are right. We've been badly treated. We must look after Number One. Besides, Castro needs the money, and I'm not going to lend the firm any more. As you say, it can be done with discretion and dignity. To-morrow I'll give you a list of likely people. You shall start at once."
Antonio, however, insisted that Mr. Crowberry should pilot him to the first half-dozen clients. Except Mr. Crowberry's own establishment, where a lax housekeeper looked very badly after the widower and his son, the monk had never entered a private house in England, and he called it unreasonable to send him on so delicate an errand alone.
With a wry face Mr. Crowberry gave in. The same afternoon the comptroller accepted his hundred dozens, and kindly wrote a further letter giving the house of Castro leave to do as they pleased with the remainder of their own property. And by the evening of the following day the odd pair of commercial travelers had sold nearly a thousand pounds' worth of wine. In five houses out of six their visit was received with gushing gratitude. To possess the Castro port seemed to fire the knights' and baronets' imaginations; not because it was the magnificent remnant of an unparalleled vintage, but because it had narrowly escaped being drunk by a king.
So delighted was the volatile Crowberry with his experiences that he swung right round and announced that he would accompany Antonio on a fortnight's tour through the Home and Midland counties. He hired a roomy and well-hung post-chaise, loaded it with ten dozen bottles as samples, and was out of London within thirty hours of broaching the scheme.
After the smells and smoke and uproar of London the fair English country was like paradise to Antonio. He knew the beautiful Minho of Portugal: but this England was more beautiful still. Once, as they rolled through a village in Bucks, the gracious loveliness of the scene almost broke his heart. The mellow beams of the setting sun were softly caressing the square tower of the church and glorifying the solemn old yews which girt it round. Over all, the motionless, gilded weathercock burned like a flame in a high wind. Children were shouting and playing outside white cottages half hidden under red roses. Up to their knees in murmuring water beside a steep gray bridge, dreamy-eyed cattle swished their tails and chewed their cud. The bright green meadows were enameled with myriads of white and pink and blue and yellow flowers, and the wanton hedgerows wore long streamers of convolvulus and honeysuckle. High in the giant elms rooks cawed steadily with a raucous but homely sound.