The big fellow was almost, but not quite, at his ease. He admitted to himself that his former pupil had risen to heights above his master. Nevertheless, the victory was not yet assured. He continued grandiloquently:
"We dealers are prepared to pay for our mistakes, but we don't want 'em made public."
Hunsaker exclaimed with enthusiasm:
"You can bet your boots, Mr. Tomlin, that this mistake won't be made public by me."
"Nor by me," said Jordan. His heavy face had brightened, his keen glance rested pleasantly upon Quinney. He had been told that this odd little man never sold fakes except as such, and here was confirmation strong of the astounding statement. Tomlin he knew to be a plausible rogue, who was honest only in his dealings with men like himself, recognized experts. Lark and Bundy he knew also as gentlemen of the same kidney. Quinney soared above his experience of dealers—a unique specimen.
These thoughts were diverted by the entrance of James, carrying the chair. He set it down with a flourish. He believed that Quinney had such faith in his powers as a faker of Chippendale furniture that he dared to invite the inspection of an expert. In a sense it was a proud moment for him, when he heard Quinney say:
"Now, Mr. Jordan, will you kindly pass judgment on this chair?"
Jordan adjusted his pince-nez, and bent over it. Quinney glanced at James.
"Stay you here, my lad."
James smiled triumphantly, interpreting these words to mean surrender. He collapsed like a pricked bladder, when he heard Quinney say to Jordan: