"Did Rivers actually tell you he'd pay twenty-five?"

Rand gave, as nearly verbatim as possible, his conversation with the
dealer. "And he can afford it, too," he finished. "He can make a nice
profit on the collection, at that figure."

"My God, do you mean the pistols are worth more than that, even?" she
wanted to know, aghast.

"Certainly, if you're a dealer with an established business, and
customers all over the country, and want to take five or six years to
make your profit," Rand replied. "If you aren't, and want your money in
a hurry, no."

"That's why I was against turning the collection over to Gwinnett on a
commission basis," Gladys said. "It would take him five years to get
everything sold."

Nelda left the fireplace and advanced toward Rand. "Colonel, I owe you an
apology," she said. "I had no idea Father's pistols were worth anywhere
near that much. I don't suppose Fred did, either." She frowned. Wait till
she gets Fred alone, Rand thought; I'd hate to be in his spot.... "You
say you're acting on Humphrey Goode's authority?"

"That's right. I'll negotiate the sale, but the money will be paid
directly to him, for distribution according to the terms of your father's
will." Rand got out Goode's letter and handed it to Nelda.

She read it carefully. "I see." She seemed greatly relieved; she was
looking at Rand, now, as she was accustomed to look at men, particularly