"That's as may be. I want to build up a business with private customers."
"Quite right. My own methods."
He glanced round the shop, which was divided roughly into sections. In the first were genuine bits; in the second were the best reproductions conspicuously labelled as such. The reproductions were so superlatively good that Lark recognized at once the character of the man who had so audaciously exposed them. Then and there he made up his mind that Quinney was to be reckoned with. He smiled as he waved a white hand protestingly at a piece of tapestry which might have challenged the interest of an expert. He had sold such tapestry as old Gobelins, and he knew that the maker of it only dealt with a chosen few.
"Wonderful, isn't it?" said Quinney.
"You mean to sell first-class copies as such?"
"Yes. I guarantee what I sell, Mr. Lark, as—as you do."
"I don't sell fakes."
"Not necessary in your case. Will you come upstairs?"
"With pleasure."
Quinney was trembling with excitement. Gustavus noticed this, and went on smiling. Pressland had prepared him. He praised and appraised many things in the sanctuary, but he merely glanced at the commode.