Murder in the Gunroom | Page 2

my exclusive attention. Now, if you wanted
some routine investigation made, I could turn it over to my staff, maybe put two or three
men to work on it. But there's nothing about this business of yours that I could delegate to
anybody; I'd have to do it all myself, at the expense of neglecting the rest of my business.
Now, I could do what you want done, but it would cost you three or four times what
you'd gain by retaining me."
"Well, let me decide that, Colonel," she replied. "How much would you have to have?"
"Well, this collection of your late husband's consists of some twenty-five hundred pistols
and revolvers, all types and periods," Rand said. "You want me to catalogue it, appraise
each item, issue lists, and negotiate with prospective buyers. The cataloguing and
appraisal alone would take from a week to ten days, and it would be a couple more weeks
until a satisfactory sale could be arranged. Why, say five thousand dollars; a thousand as
a retainer and the rest on completion."
That, he thought, would settle that. He was expecting an indignant outcry, and hardened
his heart, like Pharaoh. Instead, Gladys Fleming nodded equably.
"That seems reasonable enough, Colonel Rand, considering that you'd have to be staying
with us at Rosemont, away from your office," she agreed. "I'll give you a check for the
thousand now, with a letter of authorization."
Rand nodded in return. Being thoroughly conscious of the fact that he could only know a
thin film of the events on the surface of any situation, he was not easily surprised.
"Very well," he said. "You've hired an arms-expert. I'll be in Rosemont some time
tomorrow afternoon. Now, who are these prospective purchasers you mentioned, and just
how prospective, in terms of United States currency, are they?"
"Well, for one, there's Arnold Rivers; he's offering ten thousand for the collection. I
suppose you know of him; he has an antique-arms business at Rosemont."
"I've done some business with him," Rand admitted. "Who else?"
"There's a commission-dealer named Carl Gwinnett, who wants to handle the collection
for us, for twenty per cent. I'm told that that isn't an unusually exorbitant commission, but

I'm not exactly crazy about the idea."
"You shouldn't be, if you want your money in a hurry," Rand told her. "He'd take at least
five years to get everything sold. He wouldn't dump the whole collection on the market at
once, upset prices, and spoil his future business. You know, two thousand five hundred
pistols of the sort Mr. Fleming had, coming on the market in a lot, could do just that. The
old-arms market isn't so large that it couldn't be easily saturated."
"That's what I'd been thinking.... And then, there are some private collectors, mostly
friends of Lane's--Mr. Fleming's--who are talking about forming a pool to buy the
collection for distribution among themselves," she continued.
"That's more like it," Rand approved. "If they can raise enough money among them, that
is. They won't want the stuff for resale, and they may pay something resembling a decent
price. Who are they?"
"Well, Stephen Gresham appears to be the leading spirit," she said. "The corporation
lawyer, you know. Then, there is a Mr. Trehearne, and a Mr. MacBride, and Philip Cabot,
and one or two others."
"I know Gresham and Cabot," Rand said. "They're both friends of mine, and I have an
account with Cabot, Joyner & Teale, Cabot's brokerage firm. I've corresponded with
MacBride; he specializes in Colts.... You're the sole owner, I take it?"
"Well, no." She paused, picking her words carefully. "We may just run into a little
trouble, there. You see, the collection is part of the residue of the estate, left equally to
myself and my two stepdaughters, Nelda Dunmore and Geraldine Varcek. You
understand, Mr. Fleming and I were married in 1941; his first wife died fifteen years
before."
"Well, your stepdaughters, now; would they also be my clients?"
"Good Lord, no!" That amused her considerably more than it did Rand. "Of course," she
continued, "they're just as interested in selling the collection for the best possible price,
but beyond that, there may be a slight divergence of opinion. For instance, Nelda's
husband, Fred Dunmore, has been insisting that we let him handle the sale of the pistols,
on the grounds that he is something he calls a businessman. Nelda supports him in this. It
was Fred who got this ten-thousand-dollar offer from Rivers. Personally, I think Rivers is
playing him for a sucker. Outside his own line, Fred is an awful innocent, and I've never
trusted this man Rivers. Lane had some trouble with him, just before ..."
"Arnold Rivers," Rand said, when it was evident that she was not going to continue,