"I'm afraid I've been neglecting too many of my old friends lately,"
Rand admitted, sitting down and getting his pipe out. "Been busy as the
devil. Fact is, it was business that finally brought me around here. I
understand that you and some others are forming a pool to buy the Lane
Fleming collection."

"Yes!" Gresham became enthusiastic. "Want in on it? I'm sure the others
would be glad to have you in with us. We're going to need all the money
we can scrape together, with this damned Rivers bidding against us."

"I'm afraid you will, at that, Stephen," Rand told him. "And not
necessarily on account of Rivers. You see, the Fleming estate has just
employed me to expertize the collection and handle the sale for them."
Rand got his pipe lit and drawing properly. "I hate doing this to you,
but you know how it is."

"Oh, of course. I should have known they'd get somebody like you in
to sell the collection for them. Humphrey Goode isn't competent to
handle that. What we were all afraid of was a public auction at some
sales-gallery."

Rand shook his head. "Worst thing they could do; a collection like
that would go for peanuts at auction. Remember the big sales in the
twenties?... Why, here; I'm going to be in Rosemont, staying at the
Fleming place, working on the collection, for the next week or so. I
suppose your crowd wouldn't want to make an offer until I have everything
listed, but I'd like to talk to your associates, in a group, as soon as
possible."

"Well, we all know pretty much what's in the collection," Gresham said.