"Though he wouldn't give it," laughed Crampy. "I'll just take another look at 'em to make sure."
"It doesn't matter," George protested.
However, Crampy insisted in a courteous fashion: so they walked to the far end of the platform, where George unpacked one of the vases, and the dealer, having put on his glasses, examined it shrewdly until the owner began to suffer from the silence.
"Do you know, Mr. Drake, I'm not sure—upon my soul I can't say for certain whether the things are genuine or not."
"Don't tell me they are forgeries," said George weakly.
"They are marvellously well done. Still, I've got a horrible idea in my head there is something wrong with them."
"Jenkins told you?" cried George involuntarily.
"So he said they were fakes!"
"He didn't go as far as that, but he thought there might be some doubt about them," George admitted.
"It looks bad—Jenkins is an uncommon smart amateur. Still, Mr. Drake, I'm a man of my word, and I'm going to make you an extremely liberal offer. I'll buy the vases for the price agreed upon. If they should turn out to be genuine, I can make a fair profit. If they must be condemned as forgeries, I may discover somebody with plenty of money but not enough brains to put unpleasant questions. Or, if you prefer it, I will sell the vases for you on commission. But, in that case, you stand to lose. It's a gamble so far as I'm concerned."