Rand favored him with a display of pained surprise.

“Why, I can’t do that,” he replied.  “I bought this revolver in good faith, and you accepted payment and were satisfied with the transaction.  The sale’s been made, now.”

Rivers seemed distressed.  It was probably the first time he had ever been on the receiving end of that routine, and he didn’t like it.

“Now you’re being unreasonable, Mr. Rand,” he protested.  “Look here; I’ll give you seventy-five dollars’ credit on anything else in the shop.  You certainly can’t find fault with an offer like that.”

“I don’t want anything else in the shop; I want this revolver you sold me.”  Rand gave him a look of supercilious insolence that was at least a two hundred per cent improvement on Rivers at his most insolent.  “You know, I’ll begin to acquire a poor idea of your business methods before long,” he added.

Rivers laughed ruefully.  “Well, to tell the truth, I just remembered a customer of mine who specializes in Confederate arms, who would pay me at least eighty for that item,” he admitted.  “I thought...”

Rand shook his head.  “I have a special fondness for Confederate arms, myself.  One of my grandfathers was in Mosby’s Rangers, and the other was with Barksdale, to say nothing of about a dozen great-uncles and so on.”

“Well, you’re entirely within your rights, Mr. Rand,” Rivers conceded.  “I should apologize for trying to renege on a sale, but....  Well, I hope to see you again, soon.”  He followed Rand to the door, shaking hands with him.  “Don’t forget; I’m willing to pay anything up to twenty-five thousand for the Fleming collection.”

CHAPTER 6

The Fleming butler—­Walters, Rand remembered Gladys Fleming having called him—­became apologetic upon learning who the visitor was.

“Forgive me, Colonel Rand, but I’m afraid I must put you to some inconvenience, sir,” he said.  “You see, we have no chauffeur, at present, and I don’t drive very well, myself.  Would you object to putting up your own car, sir?  The garage is under the house, at the rear; just follow the driveway around.  I’ll go through the house and meet you there for the luggage.  I’m dreadfully sorry to put you to the trouble, but....”

“Oh, that’s all right,” Rand comforted him.  “Just as soon do it, myself, now, anyhow.  I expect to be in and out with the car while I’m here, and I’d better learn the layout of the garage now.”

“You may back in, sir, or drive straight in and back out,” the butler told him.  “One way’s about as easy as the other.”

Rand returned to his car, driving around the house.  A row of doors opened out of the basement garage; Walters, who must have gone through the house on the double, was waiting for him.  Having what amounted to a conditioned reflex to park his car so that he could get it out as fast as possible, he cut over to the right, jockeyed a little, and backed in.  There were already two cars in the garage; a big maroon Packard sedan, and a sand-colored Packard station-wagon, standing side by side.  Rand put his Lincoln in on the left of the sedan.