e of the type that used to
be labeled "Babbitt." The corner of Rand's mind that handled such data
subconsciously filed his description: forty-five to fifty, one-eighty,
five feet eight, hair brown and thinning, eyes blue. To this he added the
Rotarian button on the lapel, and the small gold globule on the watch
chain that testified that, when his age and weight had been considerably
less, Dunmore had played on somebody's basketball team. At that time he
had probably belonged to the Y.M.C.A., and had thought that Mussolini was
doing a splendid job in Italy, that H. L. Mencken ought to be deported to
Russia, and that Prohibition was here to stay. At company sales meetings,
he probably radiated an aura of synthetic good-fellowship.

As Rand followed Walters down the spiral from the gunroom, the radio
commercial was just starting, and Geraldine was asking Dunmore where
Anton was.

"Oh, you know," Dunmore told her, impatiently. "He had to go to
Louisburg, to that Medical Association meeting; he's reading a paper
about the new diabetic ration."

He broke off as Rand approached and was introduced by Gladys, who handed
both men their cocktails. Then the news commentator greeted them out of
the radio, and everybody absorbed the day's news along with their
Manhattans. After the broadcast, they all crossed the hall to the
dining-room, where hostilities began almost before the soup was cool
enough to taste.

"I don't see why you women had to do this," Dunmore huffed. "Rivers has
made us a fair offer. Bringing in an outsider will only give him the
impression that we lack confidence in him."

"Well, won't that be just too, too bad!" Geraldine slashed at him. "We
mustn't ever hurt dear Mr. Rivers's feelings like that. Let him have the
collection for half what it's worth, but never, never let him think we
know what a God-damned crook he is!"

Dunmore evidently didn't think that worth dignifying with an answer.
Doubtless he expected Nelda to launch a counter-offensive, as a matter of
principle. If he did, he was disappointed.

"Well?" Nelda demanded. "What did you want us to do; give the collection
away?"

"You don't understand," Dunmore told her. "You've probably heard somebody
say what the collection's worth, and you never stopped to realize that
it's only worth that to a dealer, who can sell it item by item. You can't
expect ..."

"We can expect a lot more than ten thousand dollars," Nelda retorted. "In
fact, we can expec