Richard yielded perforce to the old man's importunity and followed him into a third room, which was filled with a large assortment of armour and weapons of all nations. "A regular arsenal, isn't it?" exclaimed Solomon, rubbing his hands complacently. The young officer felt in his element as, with the eye of a connoisseur, he surveyed the splendid collection. Suddenly his attention was arrested by a brown blade with a simple hilt and without a scabbard. He took it up and examined it more closely. "Aha!" cried the dealer, much pleased, "you've hit it the first time. I was sure it wouldn't escape the eye of an expert. That is a genuine Crivelli blade, and I have been offered ten ducats for it; but I won't part with it for less than fifteen. It is positively genuine, no imitation." Richard held the sword up to the light. "That is not a Crivelli," he declared. The dealer was deeply injured. "Sir," he protested, "Solomon never deceives. When I say it is a genuine Crivelli, you may trust my word for it." Therewith he bent the blade in his trembling hands and caused it to encircle his visitor's waist like a belt. "See there!" he cried triumphantly; "the point kisses the hilt." "Good!" exclaimed the other, taking the sword from him again; "and now I'll show you a little trick, if you have an old musket that is of no use." "Take any you choose," returned Solomon, pointing to a pyramid of rusty firearms. Richard selected one of the heaviest and leaned it obliquely against the pile, barrel upward. "Now stand aside a little, please," said he. The old Jew drew back and watched the young man curiously. The latter gave the sword a quick swing through the air and brought it down sharply on the musket-barrel, which fell in two pieces to the floor, cleanly severed. Old Solomon was lost in amazement. First he examined the sword-blade, next the divided musket-barrel, and then he felt of Richard's arm. "Heavens and earth, that was a stroke!" he exclaimed. "When I cut an orange in two I have to try three times before I succeed. You are a man I am proud to know, Captain Baradlay,--a man of giant strength! Such a thick musket-barrel, and cut in two with one stroke as if it were of paper!" "This sword is not a Crivelli," repeated Richard, as he returned the weapon; "it is a genuine Al-Bohacen Damascus blade, and worth, between you and me, one hundred ducats." "Heaven forbid!" exclaimed the Jew, with a deprecatory gesture of both hands. "I have named the price as fifteen ducats, no more and no less. That is my figure; but if Captain Baradlay will give the Danaë and frame, with one ducat into the bargain, he may have the sword. I won't sleep another night under the same roof with such a weapon." Richard smiled. "But the Danaë I have already exchanged for my own portrait," said he.