"And I can tell you now that twenty-five thousand dollars is
just what he will pay for it, unless I can find somebody who's willing to
pay more, which is not at all improbable."
"H'ray!" Geraldine waved her glass and toasted Rand with it. "And
twenty-five G ain't hay, brother!"
Gladys smiled quickly at Rand, then turned to Nelda. "Now I hope you see
why I thought it wise to bring in somebody who knows something about old
arms," she said.
Nelda evidently saw; there was apparently nothing stupid about her. "And
Fred was going to take a miserable ten thousand dollars!" The way she
said it, ten thousand sounded like a fairly generous headwaiter's tip.
"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.
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