"You won't find it in Melchester," he replied curtly.
Upon arrival in London he set forth gallantly in search of a "pitch." He wandered in and out of curiosity shops big and small. Some of the dealers knew him slightly. Many of the older men used to deal with his father. They were well aware that the son refused on principle to sell to the trade. Tomlin had passed round that word long ago. Quinney inspected their wares, and chuckled to himself whenever he encountered a fake labelled as a genuine antique. The biggest men displayed stuff not above suspicion. Indeed, the chuckling became audible when he discovered a Minihy cabinet in a famous establishment in St. James's Street.
"Guarantee that?" he asked of the rather supercilious young gentleman in a frock coat who was doing the honours.
"Certainly."
It was then that Quinney chuckled. The young gentleman, quite unaware that he was entertaining a provincial dealer, said loftily:
"It's French. Came out of a French château in Touraine."
"Signed?"
"I think not. It's signed all over as a bit of the finest Renaissance craftsmanship."
Quinney bent down, still chuckling.
"It is signed," he said, with conviction.