"A fake—no. A copy admirably executed—yes."
"Oh, Lord!"
He made no attempt to conceal his distress. Gustavus patted his shoulder encouragingly.
"I may be mistaken. I am often mistaken."
"You?"
"Even I. Come, come, I see that I have upset you. But, as a friend, as a brother dealer, I say this: Get rid of it. You are taking up a line of your own. You mean to sell honest copies as such, and to guarantee the genuine bits. A capital idea. Only don't mix up the two. To succeed in London it is necessary to establish a reputation. My eldest son tells me that you built up a substantial business in Melchester—that your reputation there was above reproach. Excellent! I rejoiced to hear it. In our business we want men like you. But, no compromise! Sell that commode for what it is, a fine copy executed at the end of the eighteenth century. As such it has a considerable value. I have a customer, an American gentleman, who would buy it to-morrow for what it is, and pay a handsome figure."
The unhappy Quinney moistened his lips with a feverish tongue.
"What do you call a handsome figure, Mr. Lark?"
"Five or six hundred."
"And I paid nine!"