“Oh, nothing of the sort!” Rand told him.  “I’m not in the least interested in how Mr. Fleming was killed, and the question is simply not involved in what Mrs. Fleming wants me to do.”

He stopped there.  Goode was looking at him sideways, sucking in one corner of his mouth and pushing out the other.  It was not a facial contortion that impressed Rand favorably; it was too reminiscent of a high-school principal under whom he had suffered, years ago, in Vicksburg, Mississippi.  Rand began to suspect that Goode might be just another such self-righteous, opinionated, egotistical windbag.  Such men could be dangerous, were usually quite unscrupulous, and were almost always unpleasant to deal with.

“Then why,” the lawyer demanded, “did Mrs. Fleming employ you?”

“Well, as you know,” Rand began, “the Fleming pistol-collection, now the joint property of Mrs. Fleming and her two stepdaughters, is an extremely valuable asset.  Mr. Fleming spent the better part of his life gathering it.  At one time or another, he must have owned between four and five thousand different pistols and revolvers.  The twenty-five hundred left to his heirs represent the result of a systematic policy of discriminating purchase, replacement of inferior items, and general improvement.  It’s one of the largest and most famous collections of its kind in the country.”

“Well?” Goode was completely out of his depth by now.  “Surely Mrs. Fleming doesn’t think...?”

“Mrs. Fleming thinks that expert advice is urgently needed in disposing of that collection,” Rand replied, carefully picking his words to fit what he estimated to be Goode’s probable semantic reactions.  “She has the utmost confidence in your ability and integrity, as an attorney; however, she realized that you could hardly describe yourself as an antique-arms expert.  It happens that I am an expert in antique firearms, particularly pistols.  I have a collection of my own, I am the author of a number of articles on the subject, and I am recognized as something of an authority.  I know arms-values, and understand market conditions.  Furthermore, not being a dealer, or connected with any museum, I have no mercenary motive for undervaluing the collection.  That’s all there is to it; Mrs. Fleming has retained me as a firearms-expert, in connection with the collection.”

Goode was looking at Rand as though the latter had just torn off a mask, revealing another and entirely different set of features underneath.  The change seemed to be a welcome one, but he was evidently having trouble adjusting to it.  Rand grinned inwardly; now he was going to have to find himself a new set of verbal labels and identifications.

“Well, Mr. Rand, that alters the situation considerably,” he said, with noticeably less hostility.  He was still a bit resentful; people had no right to confuse him by jumping about from one category to another, like that.  “Now understand, I’m not trying to be offensive, but it seems a little unusual for a private detective also to be an authority on antique firearms.”