"Okay, so you've turned the gag back on me. Let's call it quits. How
about coming over to supper some night soon?"
"I'm coming over, my friend." He remained grim as he said it. "And
I'm coming over tonight. As soon as you will be home. It's no gag I'm
pulling. Can you get that through your stubborn head? You say you got
it from Star, and of course I believe you. But it's no toy. It's the
real thing." Then, as if in profound puzzlement, "Only it isn't."
A feeling of dread was settling upon me. Once you cried "Uncle" to
Jim, he always let up.
"Suppose you tell me what you mean," I answered soberly.
"That's more like it, Pete. Here's what we know about the coin so far.
It is apparently pre-Egyptian. It's hand-cast. It's made out of one of
the lost bronzes. We fix it at around four thousand years old."
"That ought to be easy to solve," I argued. "Probably some coin
collector is screaming all over the place for it. No doubt lost it and
Star found it. Must be lots of old coins like that in museums and in
private collections."
I was rationalizing more for my own benefit than for Jim. He would
know all those things without my mentioning them. He waited until I had
finished.
"Step two," he went on. "We've got one of the top coin men in the world
here at the museum. As soon as I saw what the metal was, I took it to
him. Now hold onto your chair, Pete. He says there is no coin like it
in the world, either museum or private collection."
"You museum boys get beside yourselves at times. Come down to Earth.
Sometime, somewhere, some collector picked it up in some exotic place
and kept it quiet. I don't have to tell you how some collectors
are--sitting in a dark room, gloating over some worthless bauble, not
telling a soul about it--"
"All right, wise guy," he interrupted. "Step three. That coin is at
least four thousand years old _and it's also brand-new_! Let's hear you
explain that away."
"New?" I asked weakly. "I don't get it."
"Old coins show wear. The edges get rounded with handling. The surface
oxidizes. The molecular structure changes, crystalizes. This coin shows
no wear, no oxidation, no molecular change. This coin might have been
struck yesterday. _Where did Star get it?_"
"Hold it a minute," I pleaded.
* * * * *
I began to think back. Saturday morning. Star and Robert had been
playing a game. Come to think of it, that was a peculiar game. Mighty
peculiar.
Star would run into the house and stand in front of the encyclopedia
shelf. I could hear Robert counting loudly at the base tree outside in
the back yard. She would stare at the encyclopedia for a moment.