Rand nodded. Any collector--at least, any collector who was a serious
arms-student--could do that, particularly if he were a good visualizer
and kept his stuff in some systematic order. At the moment, he could have
named and described any or all of his own modest collection of two
hundred-odd pistols and revolvers.

"I was hoping he'd kept a record," he said. "A great many collectors do,
and it would have helped me quite a bit." He made up his mind to compile
such a record, himself, when he got back to New Belfast. It would be a
big help to Carter Tipton, when it came time to settle his own estate,
and a man on whom the Reaper has scored as many near-misses as on Jeff
Rand should begin to think of such things. "And how about writing
materials? And is there a typewriter available?"

There was: a cased portable was on the floor beside the workbench.
Walters showed him which desk drawers contained paper and other things.
There was, Rand noticed, a loaded .38 Colt Detective Special, in the
upper right-hand desk drawer.

"And these phones," the butler continued, indicating them. "This one is
a private outside phone; it doesn't connect with any other in the house.
The other is an extension. It has a buzzer; the outside phone has a
regular bell."

Rand thanked him for the information. Then, picking up a note-pad and
pencil, he started on the left of the collection, meaning to make a
general list and rough approximation of value for use in talking to
Gresham's friends that evening. Tomorrow he would begin on the detailed
list for use in soliciting outside offers.