While that pouring into his ears enchained his body it stirred recollections in Cutty's mind: The fair at Novgorod; the fiddling mountebanks; Russian.
Perhaps the dealer's astonishment was greatest.

An Englishman! Who ever heard of an Englishman playing a violin like that?
"I will buy it," said Hawksley, sinking back.
"Sir," began the dealer, "I am horribly embarrassed.

I cannot sell that violin because it isn't mine.

It is an Amati worth ten thousand dollars." "I will give you twelve." "But, sir--" "Name a price," interrupted Hawksley, rather imperiously.

"I want it." Cutty understood that he was witnessing a flash of the ancient blood.