“I don’t believe it!” Dunmore exclaimed angrily.  “Rivers told me personally, that neither he nor any other dealer could hope to handle that collection profitably at more than ten thousand.”

“And you believed that?” Nelda demanded.  “And you’re a business man? My God!”

“He’s probably a good one, as long as he sticks to pancake flour,” Geraldine was generous enough to concede.  “But about guns, he barely knows which end the bullet comes out at.  Ten thousand was probably his idea of what we’d think the pistols were worth.”

Dunmore ignored that and turned to Rand.  “Did Arnold Rivers actually tell you he’d pay twenty-five thousand dollars for the collection?” he asked.  “I can’t believe that he’d raise his own offer like that.”

“He didn’t raise his offer; I threw it out and told him to make one that could be taken seriously.”  Rand repeated, as closely as he could, his conversation with the arms-dealer.  When he had finished, Dunmore was frowning in puzzled displeasure.

“And you think he’s actually willing to pay that much?”

“Yes, I do.  If he handles them right, he can double his money on the pistols inside of five years.  I doubt if you realize how valuable those pistols are.  You probably defined Mr. Fleming’s collection as a ‘hobby’ and therefore something not to be taken seriously.  And, aside from the actual profit, the prestige of handling this collection would be worth a good deal to Rivers, as advertising.  I haven’t the least doubt that he can raise the money, or that he’s willing to pay it.”

Dunmore was still frowning.  Maybe he hated being proved wrong in front of the women of the family.

“And you think Gresham and his friends will offer enough to force him to pay the full amount?”

Rand laughed and told him to stop being naive.  “He’s done that, himself, and what’s more, he knows it.  When he told me he was willing to go as high as twenty-five thousand, he fixed the price.  Unless somebody offers more, which isn’t impossible.”

“But maybe he’s just bluffing.”  Dunmore seemed to be following Gwinnett’s line of thought.  “After he’s bluffed Gresham’s crowd out, maybe he’ll go back to his original ten thousand offer.”

“Fred, please stop talking about that ten thousand dollars!” Geraldine interrupted.  “How much did Rivers actually tell you he’d pay?  Twenty-five thousand, like he did Colonel Rand?”

Dunmore turned in his chair angrily.  “Now, look here!” he shouted.  “There’s a limit to what I’ve got to take from you....”

He stopped short, as Nelda, beside him, moved slightly, and his words ended in something that sounded like a smothered moan.  Rand suspected that she had kicked her husband painfully under the table.  Then Walters came in with the meat course, and firing ceased until the butler had retired.

“By the way,” Rand tossed into the conversational vacuum that followed his exit, “does anybody know anything about a record Mr. Fleming kept of his collection?”