long table. Conversation finally veers around to
curiosities and relics. One of the members present then takes from his
pocket what he announces as one of the rarest coins in existence--passes
it around the table. Coin travels back and forth, every one examining
it, and the conversation goes to another topic, say the influence of the
automobile on domestic infelicity, or some other such asininely
intellectual club topic--you know? All at once the owner calls for his
coin.

"The coin is nowhere to be found. Every one looks at every one else.
First they suspect a joke. Then it becomes serious--the coin is
immensely valuable. Who has taken it?

"The owner is a gentleman--does the gentlemanly idiotic thing of course,
laughs, says he knows some one is playing a practical joke on him and
that the coin will be returned to-morrow. The others refuse to leave the
situation so. One man proposes that they all submit to a search. Every
one gives his assent until it comes to the stranger. He refuses, curtly,
roughly, without giving any reason. Uncomfortable silence--the man is a
guest. No one knows him particularly well--but still he is a guest. One
member tries to make him understand that no offense is offered, that the
suggestion was simply to clear the atmosphere, and all that sort of
bally rot, you know.

"'I refuse to allow my person to be searched,' says the stranger, very
firm, very proud, very English, you know, 'and I refuse to give my
reason for my action.'

"Another silence. The men eye him and then glance at one another. What's
to be done? Nothing. There is etiquette--that magnificent inflated
balloon. The visitor evidently has the coin--but he is their guest and
etiquette protects him. Nice situation, eh?

"The table is cleared. A waiter removes a dish of fruit and there under
the ledge of the plate where it had been pushed--is the coin. Banal
explanation, eh? Of course. Solutions always should be. At once every
one in profuse apologies! Whereupon the visitor rises and says:

"'Now I can give you the reason for my refusal to be searched. There are
only two known specimens of the coin in existence, and the second
happens to be here in my waistcoat pocket.'"

"Of course," said Quinny with a shrug of his shoulders, "the story is
well invented, but the turn to it is very nice--very nice indeed."

"I did know the story," said Steingall, to be disagreeable; "the ending,
though, is too obvious to be invented. The visi