man, whose black eyes snapped viciously. "Do you think I am
deaf?"

"I didn't know you were here," gasped Truxton, forgetting to be
surprised by the other's English. "The place looked empty. Excuse me for
yelling."

"What do you want?"

"That broad--Say, you speak English, don't you?"

"Certainly," snapped the old man. "Why shouldn't I? I can't afford an
interpreter. You'll find plenty of English used here in Edelweiss since
the Americans and British came. They won't learn our language, so we
must learn theirs."

"You speak it quite as well as I do."

"Better, young man. You are an American." The sarcasm was not lost on
Truxton King, but he was not inclined to resent it. A twinkle had come
into the eyes of the ancient; the deep lines about his lips seemed
almost ready to crack into a smile.

"What's the price of that old sword you have in the window?"

"Do you wish to purchase it?"

"Certainly."

"Three hundred gavvos."

"What's that in dollars?"

"Four hundred and twenty."

"Whew!"

"It is genuine, sir, and three hundred years old. Old Prince Boris
carried it. It's most rare. Ten years ago you might have had it for
fifty gavvos. But," with a shrug of his thin shoulders, "the price of
antiquities has gone up materially since the Americans began to come.
They don't want a thing if it is cheap."

"I'll give you a hundred dollars for it, Mr.--er--" he looked at the
sign on the open door--"Mr. Spantz."

"Good day, sir." The old man was bowing him out of the shop. King was
amused.

"Let's talk it over. What's the least you'll take in real money?"

"I don't want your money. Good day."

Truxton King felt his chin in perplexity. In all his travels he had
found no other merchant whom he could not "beat down" two or three
hundred per cent. on an article.

"It's too much. I can't afford it," he said, disappointment in his eyes.

"I have modern blades of my own make, sir, much cheaper and quite as
good," ventured the excellent Mr. Spantz.

"You make 'em?" in surprise.

The old man straightened his bent figure with sudden pride. "I am
armourer to the crown, sir. My blades are used by the nobility--not by
the army, I am happy to say. Spantz repairs the swords and guns for the
army, but he welds only for the gentlemen at court."

"I see. Tradition, I suppose."

"My great-grandfather wrought blades for the princes a hundred years
ago. My son will make them after I am gone, and his son after him. I,