Trading Jeff and his Dog Part 23

Jeff rose with a curt, "Don't you have any new suits?"

"Oh! Sorry, sir. My error."

He fitted Jeff with a neat blue serge suit, a white s.h.i.+rt, a modest but smart tie, a pair of socks, and new shoes. Jeff took his old clothes back to the Kennard, wrapped one of Barr Whitney's knives, thrust it into his inside coat pocket and went out. His trap was set and scented.

Now he had to see if he would catch anything.

There were four sporting goods stores still on his list, but Jeff pa.s.sed the first because its windows were dirty and the second because it advertised a bargain sale. But the third seemed to offer what he wanted.

He asked the friendly clerk who came forward, "Is Mr. Ryerson in?"

"No, he isn't. But Mr. Calworth is."

"May I see him?"

"This way."

Jeff followed the clerk down the aisle and examined the store closely as he did so. The fire arms, fis.h.i.+ng tackle and other sporting equipment displayed on the counters was all of quality make and he hadn't been asked for an appointment, so evidently this store catered to sportsmen able to afford the best and at the same time it was not overly formal.

The clerk ushered him into an office and Jeff's hopes rose.

"Mr. Calworth," the clerk said, "this gentleman wants to see you."

"My name's Tarrant," Jeff shook Mr. Calworth's extended hand, "Jeff Tarrant, and I'd hoped you'd be kind enough to furnish me with some information."

"Sit down, Mr. Tarrant."

Mr. Calworth was middle-aged, and a sprinkling of gray showed in his black hair. But there was a sparkle in his eyes, an ease of movement and callouses on his hands. Obviously he did something besides sit at a desk, and Jeff guessed shrewdly that he was an outdoor enthusiast himself. Jeff took the proffered chair and draped himself carelessly, but not too carelessly, upon it.

"I represent Tarrant Enterprises," Jeff almost added the Ltd., but caught himself in time. "We may wish to expand."

"Are you in sporting goods?"

"Partly."

"And you're considering Ackerton?"

"Yes and no. That's what I hope to decide."

"There's plenty of room, Mr. Tarrant."

"But how much _good_ room?"

Mr. Calworth laughed. "I'll tell you frankly. There are a variety of sporting goods stores, but Ryerson and Hapley split forty-five per cent of the trade and ninety per cent of the most desirable trade. However, there is no reason why an aggressive newcomer should not do very well."

Jeff bent forward. "Is there a survey--Oh!" Purposely arranged to do so, the knife in his pocket had slipped and thrust the front of his new coat outward. Grinning his embarra.s.sment, Jeff took the knife from his pocket and balanced it on his knee.

Mr. Calworth's eyes followed his movements. "What do you have there?"

"One of our specialties." Jeff gave him the knife. "A rather exceptional piece."

Mr. Calworth slipped the knife from its sheath, and his eyes warmed as he examined it. He tested the blade with his thumb and shaved a couple of hairs from the back of his hand. When he turned to Jeff, he was interested.

"You specialize in this sort of thing?"

"We specialize in quality," Jeff said casually. "When we sell, we like to believe that the customer receives full value."

"Do you get many articles as good?"

Jeff shrugged. "Look at it. Can that be ma.s.s-produced?"

"No," Mr. Calworth admitted. "What is your retail price on this knife?"

"Twenty dollars," Jeff said firmly.

"When do you intend to open your branch, Mr. Tarrant?"

"I'm not sure we will open it. At least, we won't until after much more extensive research."

"Would you care to make Ryerson your agent until you decide definitely?"

Jeff deliberated. Then, "I hadn't thought of an agency."

"It can't hurt you and it might make you some money. I'll continue to be frank. This is not something to offer an average customer because he simply cannot afford it. But there are sportsmen who can, and they come to Ryerson's. We'll take this, and any other quality merchandise you have, at a thirty per cent discount."

Jeff thought of Barr's other knife, a few of the rest, the hatchets, the bridle reins, and made a swift calculation. Not all were equally valuable, but all were quality. If Ryerson paid him cash, he would more than make up for everything he had dispensed from his pack, his train fare, his expenses in Ackerton, and he would still have valuable goods.

He said finally, "It should work to our mutual benefit."

"May we expect some more soon?" Mr. Calworth asked.

"I have a few in my sample case at the Kennard. You may have those as soon as I've time to deliver them and more in--shall we say three weeks?"

"I'll send a clerk for what you have," Mr. Calworth promised, "and leave your check at the Kennard desk. Or would you prefer payment to your business headquarters?"

Jeff held his breath inwardly, but answered quite casually, "It doesn't matter."

"We'll leave it at the Kennard," Mr. Calworth decided. "What should the total be?"

Jeff made a swift mental calculation. Barr Whitney's two knives for twenty dollars each, one almost as good for fifteen, two for ten and three for five dollars each. Pete's horsehide thong for four dollars and the three hatchets at five dollars each. That less thirty per cent. Jeff gave the total, "Seventy-six dollars and thirty cents."

"Good!" Jeff knew that this keen man would examine each article and see if the price was suitable. "Are you going back to the Kennard?"

"I must stop in for a few minutes."

"May I send someone along to pick up the rest of the things?"

"Certainly."

"Fine! Don't forget us, Mr. Tarrant."

Jeff walked back to the Kennard with one of Ryerson's clerks, gave him the merchandise intended for him in the lobby and got a receipt. Then he returned to his room, looked over the motley collection of knives that remained, and decided that he could sell or trade them to his advantage.

But he wanted to take care of some of the other articles first and then give special attention to Granny's tapestries. He examined the pistol and the set of miniatures. Both were unknown quant.i.ties.