Walton, I lectured myself, don't be a smartass, just this once. Be reverent. Who the hell knows how the Sun Goddess liked her nakagos tapered?
Besides, the simple truth was the Imperial Sword of Emperor Antoku really knocked me over. Superb workmanship, excellent balance, elegant shape. And overall, surprisingly good condition . . . well, except for one thing.
"It's almost perfect." I revolved back to examine it. "Except for that little scratch on the nakago. Too bad."
"What scratch, Mr. Walton?" He stared down.
"It's actually on the other side as best I recall."
There followed a long pause as Noda's eyes gradually narrowed to slits. Finally he said, "I wasn't aware you were so conversant with press descriptions of the sword, Mr. Walton."
We both knew the scratch on the nakago, on the side not showing, had never once been mentioned in the papers.
Which was as it should be. A minor blemish really. All the same I now felt very guilty about it. I do hope it was an unavoidable accident, like the metallurgy guys at the Princeton lab claimed in the apology that accompanied their bill after I shipped it down last summer for tests.
This was turning out to be quite a day. Seems New York's crime statistics were looking up; a theft had actually been solved. The son of a bitch was MINE.
"Ah, well, Mr. Walton, I trust you are suitably impressed all the same."