“I tell thee, Sir Mark, that the equals of my pieces are not to be found in this country, search where you will. I take such pains to have naught but the toughest iron, and as to finish—”
“Exactly, Master Cobbe,” said the knight, smiling in a half-cynical manner; “but that is your view of the matter.”
“No man ever knew me to lie or to cheat in trading, Sir Mark,” said the founder, hotly. “I will compare my pieces with those of any foundry in—”
“Yes, yes, exactly, Master Cobbe, exactly. But, hark ye, I have, as I tell thee, full authority to deal with thee, but everything depends upon my report.”
“Try the report of the pieces themselves,” said the founder, chuckling. “There, speak out, my lad. If it be a case of commission, say what you require, and I’ll tell thee at once whether I’ll pay or no.”
“Do you wish to insult me, Master Cobbe?” said the knight, haughtily.
“Insult thee? No, my lad, not I. Would it be any insult to offer thee a hundred or two for thine introduction?”
“Silence, man!” cried Sir Mark, angrily. “I am no dealer seeking a bribe, but one who would do you a good turn, if possible, at a very difficult time. You have enemies.”
“If successful, didst ever know a man without?”
“And they have somehow given the King to understand that it was really you who supplied the conspirators with the powder for their deadly plot.”