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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"Sir Nigel"

To you two
hundred."
"And why cheaper to me, good fellow?"
"Because I fitted your father also for the wars, and a finer suit
never went out of my shop. I warrant that it turned many an edge
before he laid it aside. We worked in mail in those days, and I
had as soon have a well-made thick-meshed mail as any plates; but
a young knight will be in the fashion like any dame of the court,
and so it must be plate now, even though the price be trebled."
"Your rede is that the mail is as good?"
"I am well sure of it."
"Hearken then, armorer! I cannot at this moment buy a suit of
plate, and yet I sorely need steel harness on account of a small
deed which it is in my mind to do. Now I have at my home at
Tilford that very suit of mail of which you speak, with which my
father first rode to the wars. Could you not so alter it that it
should guard my limbs also?"
The armorer looked at Nigel's small upright figure and burst out
laughing. "You jest, Squire Loring! The suit was made for one
who was far above the common stature of man."
"Nay, I jest not. If it will but carry me through one spear-
running it will have served its purpose."
The armorer leaned back on his anvil and pondered while Nigel
stared anxiously at his sooty face.
"Right gladly would I lend you a suit of plate for this one
venture, Squire Loring, but I know well that if you should be
overthrown your harness becomes prize to the victor.


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