"You don't? Where do you get your stock then?"
The smile became a grin. "I get my merchandise in my own way. Let me see
your pistol."
Jeff handed it over. The man examined it closely and finally said,
"They're a drug on the market. I'll give you fifty cents."
"In that case, wrap up six for me. I'll give you three dollars for 'em."
"Where would I get six?"
"You said they're a drug on the market."
"So," the man admitted, "are most other antiques. Their value depends on
how badly somebody wants them. Find somebody who wants the pistol and
you'll get a fair price. To somebody who doesn't want it, it isn't worth
a penny."
"That makes sense."
"What are you going to do now?"
"Find somebody who wants it."
But, though Jeff visited other dealers in antiques, none offered him
more than a dollar for the pistol and nobody offered anything for the
miniatures. It was very late when he returned to the Kennard.