"
There was a stunned hush, followed by a gust of exclamations.
"Guid Lorrd!" The Scots accent fairly curdled on Colin MacBride's tongue.
"We canna go over that!"
"I'm afraid not; twenty would be about our limit," Gresham agreed. "And
with the best items gone ..." He shrugged.
Pierre and Karen were looking at each other in blank misery; their dream
of establishing themselves in the arms business had blown up in their
faces.
"Oh, he's talking through his hat!" Cabot declared. "He just hopes we'll
lose interest, and then he'll buy what's left of the collection for a
song."
"Maybe he knows the collection's been robbed," Trehearne suggested. "That
would let him out, later. He'd accuse you or the Fleming estate of
holding out the best pieces, and then offer to take what's left for about
five thousand."
"Well, that would be presuming that he knows the collection has been
robbed," Cabot pointed out. "And the only way he'd know that would be if
he, himself, had bought the stolen pistols."
"Well, does anybody need a chaser to swallow that?" Trehearne countered.
"I'm bloody sure I don't."
Karen Lawrence shook her head. "No, he'd pay twenty-five thousand for the
collection, just as it stands, to keep Pierre and me out of the arms
business.
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