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wish merely one specimen of a rarity; he wanted as many as he could lay hands on. Accordingly, he bought all five of Samuel Brown’s 1913 V-Nickels.
    “They remained in his possession until his death, and I trust he enjoyed owning them. When he died his holdings were dispersed, and a dealer named Johnson wound up with all five of the nickels. I believe he lived in the Midwest, St. Louis or perhaps Kansas City.”
    “It doesn’t matter,” I said.
    “Probably not,” he agreed. “In any event, Mr. Johnson sold them off one at a time to individual collectors. While he was doing this, a dealer in Fort Worth by the name of B. Max Mehl was busy making the 1913 V-Nickel the most famous rare coin of the century simply by offering to buy it. He placed advertisements everywhere offering fifty dollars for the coin, with the implication that one might come across it in one’s pocket change. He did so in order to attract customers for a rare coin catalog he was peddling, and I don’t doubt hesold a great many catalogs, but in the course of it he assured the future of the 1913 nickel. No American coin ever received so much publicity. Americans who knew nothing else about coins knew a 1913 V-Nickel was valuable. Virtually everyone knew this.”
    I did. I remembered the ads he was talking about. They were still running when I was a boy, and I was one of the guppies who sent for the book. None of us found 1913 V-Nickels in our pockets, since they weren’t there to be found, but many of us began collecting coins and grew up to swell the ranks of the numismatic fraternity. Others of us grew up to be thieves, seeking our fortunes in other men’s pocket change, as it were.
    “There’s no logical explanation for the coin’s value,” Abel went on. “At best it’s a trial piece, at worst an unauthorized fantasy item. As such it should be worth a few thousand dollars at most. The Mint struck pattern nickels in 1881 and 1882 in a variety of metals and with a variety of designs. Some are as rare or rarer than the 1913 nickel, yet you can buy them for a few hundred dollars. In 1882 a pattern coin was struck identical in design to the V-Nickel, and in the same metal, but with that year’s date. It’s quite rare, and if anything it ought to be more desirable than the 1913 coin, if only because its existence is legitimate. Yet a couple of thousand dollars will buy it, assuming you can locate an example for sale.”
    Carolyn’s face was showing a lot of excitement about now, and I could understand why. If another coin was worth a couple of thousand, and that made it strictly minor-league compared to what we’d come up with, then we were in good shape. But she still didn’t know just how good that shape was. She was waiting for him to tell her.
    He made her wait. He reached for his plate, finished his pastry, switched plate for cup, drank coffee. Carolyn got herself more Armagnac, drank some of it, watched him sip his coffee, drank the rest of the Armagnac, made her hands into fists, planted them on her hips, and said, “Aw, come on, Abel. What’s it worth?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Huh?”
    “No one knows. Maybe you should put it in a parking meter. Bernard, why did you bring me this?”
    “Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time, Abel. If you want I’ll take it home with me.”
    “And do what with it?”
    “I don’t have a car so I won’t put it in a parking meter. Maybe I’ll punch a hole in it and Carolyn can wear it around her neck.”
    “I almost wish you would do that.”
    “Or maybe somebody else’ll buy it.”
    “Who? To whom would you offer it? No one will deal more equitably with you than I, Bernard.”
    “That’s why I brought it to you in the first place, Abel.”
    “Yes, yes, of course.” He sighed, fished out a handkerchief, wiped his high forehead. “The verdammte coin has agitated me. What is it worth? Who knows what the thing is worth? Five specimens exist. As I recall, four are in museum