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.
"We were neighbors of his, and collectors are a gregarious lot. But we
aren't anxious to make any premature offers. We don't want to offer more
than we have to, and at the same time, we don't want to underbid and see
the collection sold elsewhere."

"No, of course not." Rand thought for a moment. "Tell you what; I'll give
you and your friends the best break I can in fairness to my clients. I'm
not obliged to call for sealed bids, or anything like that, so when I've
heard from everybody, I'll give you a chance to bid against the highest
offer in hand. If you want to top it, you can have the collection for any
kind of an overbid that doesn't look too suspiciously nominal."

"Why, Jeff, I appreciate that," Gresham said. "I think you're entirely
within your rights, but naturally, we won't mention this outside. I can
imagine Arnold Rivers, for instance, taking a very righteous view of such
an arrangement."

"Yes, so can I. Of course, if he'd call me a crook, I'd take that as
a compliment," Rand said. "I wonder if I could meet your group, say
tomorrow evening? I want to be in a position to assure the Fleming family
and Humphrey Goode that you're all serious and responsible."

"Well, we're very serious about it," Gresham replied, "and I think we're
all responsible. You can look us up, if you wish. Besides myself, there
is Philip Cabot, of Cabot, Joyner & Teale, whom you know, and Adam
Trehearne, who's worth about a half-million in industrial shares, and
Colin MacBride, who's vice president in charge of construction and
maintenance for Edison-Public Power & Light, at about twenty thousand a
year, and Pierre Jarrett and his fiancee, Karen Lawrence. Pierre was a
Marine captain, invalided home after being wounded on Peleliu; he writes
science-fiction for the pulps. Karen has a little general-antique
business in Rosemont. They intend using their share of the collection,
plus such cul