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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"Sir Nigel"


"I am concerned by what you say," said he. "You know more of
these things than I can do. However, I will take--"
"A hundred and fifty," whispered Aylward's voice in his ear.
"A hundred and fifty," said Nigel, only too relieved to have found
the humblest guide upon these unwonted paths.
The goldsmith started. This youth was not the simple soldier that
he had seemed. That frank face, those blue eyes, were traps for
the unwary. Never had he been more taken aback in a bargain.
"This is fond talk and can lead to nothing, fair sir," said he,
turning away and fiddling with the keys of his strong boxes. "Yet
I have no wish to be hard on you. Take my outside price, which is
fifty nobles."
"And a hundred," whispered Aylward.
"And a hundred," said Nigel, blushing at his own greed.
"Well, well, take a hundred!" cried the merchant. "Fleece me,
skin me, leave me a loser, and take for your wares the full
hundred!"
"I should be shamed forever if I were to treat you so badly," said
Nigel. "You have spoken me fair, and I would not grind you down.
Therefore, I will gladly take one hundred--"
"And fifty," whispered Aylward.
"And fifty," said Nigel.
"By Saint John of Beverley!" cried the merchant. "I came hither
from the North Country, and they are said to be shrewd at a deal
in those parts; but I had rather bargain with a synagogue full of
Jews than with you, for all your gentle ways.


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