Wraxall saw the point almost immediately.
“Confound you, Fairmile! You’ve had the nerve to sell me my own florin! So I’ve paid three shillings for your florin. Is that it? And you muddled me up with all this talk about sleight of hand. That’s neat. That’s very neat indeed.”
“Well, here’s your three shillings,” said Douglas tossing them across one by one. “Now I’ll take my florin and we’re back at the start again. I’d be ashamed to rob anyone by that trick.”
“You mean you’d hate to take advantage of the weak-minded?” corrected the American, accepting his discomfiture with a smile.
“No. That trick’s really an obstinacy corrector. You’d be astonished to see how often it comes off—five times out of six at the lowest, I’ve found. Well, here’s another.”
He turned to Eric Dangerfield.
“Got four pennies by any chance.”
Eric searched his pockets and found the required coins.
“Now to avoid disputes later,” Douglas explained, “you’ll count ’em out one by one on to the table beside you.”
Eric carefully counted out the four coins, putting them down one at a time.