"Kolinsky and nutria are no good. We do not have them here. Russian
sable, and sea otter, and black fox, they are the best furs in the
world. We do not have them here, either, except once in a while a
black, or a silver fox."

"A coat of Russian sable would be very valuable?"

"Yes. Real Russian sable, dark, and well silvered, would be very
valuable."

"How much would one be worth?"

"Nobody can tell unless they can see it. It is all in the matching."

For a full minute Wentworth studied the face across the little fire,
the face with the unkempt beard, and the far-off, pondering eyes.

"I have a Russian sable coat," ventured Wentworth.

The factor's clerk gazed at him with unwinking blue eyes, and the head
wagged slowly. "No. Russian sable is woman's fur. They do not make
men's coats of Russian sable."

"But this is a woman's coat," explained Wentworth. "I got it in Russia
when I was in the Army. She was a Russian princess and I helped her
escape from the country at great risk to myself. It was in the winter,
in the dead of night, and a terrible blizzard was raging. When she
safely crossed the border she thanked me with tears in her eyes and
begged me to take her coat in payment, as she had no money. I refused,