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four figures out of his wallet. Usual? Collectors—big money collectors—go for the unique, the unusual. They’re all specialists.”
    â€œIt’s a certain kind of specialist we’re looking for, Mr. Gilden,” Nate said. “Has anyone offered to buy anything from you that you, ah, shouldn’t be expected to have?”
    â€œLike a government document, for example?” Ves added.
    â€œ I know what you mean,” Mr. Gilden said, his eyes wide. “Spies! Someone must be trying to pass secret information out of the country disguised as an autographed letter—or concealed in the binding of a first edition; I’ll bet that’s it!”
    â€œNot exactly, Mr. Gilden,” Swift said.
    â€œThat’s good thinking, though,” Ves encouraged. “But we’re looking for someone who might be making really odd requests. Either buying or selling. Something you just wouldn’t expect them to have.”
    â€œI see what you mean,” Mr. Gilden said, shaking his head rhythmically up and down. “Yes. Wait here a minute, I have something to show you.” He trotted off toward the vault at the back of the showroom.
    â€œAha!” Ves said. “What do you suppose?”
    â€œIt couldn’t be—” Nate said. Then he shook his head a bit sadly. “No, I suppose not. That would be a bit much.”
    â€œI’m sure we’re not going to find the, ah, document itself, Nate,” Ves told him softly. “Some clue, some trace, some starting point; that’s the best we can hope for, and it should be enough for us.”
    â€œAll kinds of nuts in this business,” Mr. Gilden said, coming back to the little table with a small, flat box, looking like a cigar box built to hold one layer of cigars. “Mind you, these aren’t for sale.” He opened the box and removed several gold coins, which he spread out on the felt top of the table for display. On the face of each coin was an arrogant, strong-nosed, self-willed head, in profile, surrounded by the legend AARON BURR IMP. MEXICO. On the reverse was the device of an eagle on a cactus clutching a snake; on top the words UN EAGLE D’OR. Underneath was the motto: Don’t Tread on Me , and the date: 1827.
    â€œThe things people do,” Mr. Gilden said, holding one of the coins between thumb and forefinger and examining it closely. “The workmanship someone put into this, it’s incredible. Aaron Burr was never emperor of Mexico, you know.”
    â€œI know, it was Hamilton,” Nate couldn’t help saying.
    â€œMaximilian,” Mr. Gilden said, not seeming to notice. “I looked it up. The things people will do for a joke, or a hoax. Incredible. These are mint-quality coins. Really first rate.”
    â€œWhere did you get them?” Swift asked.
    â€œI bought them. For their weight in gold, you understand. But they’re so fine, I’m not going to melt them down. Twenty of them.
    â€œThe Federal Bureau of Weights and Measures is going to borrow three,” Swift told him, pulling his identification card holder from his jacket pocket. “You’ll get a receipt of course, and we’ll have them back to you undamaged in about a week.”
    â€œI’ve heard that before,” Mr. Gilden said, snatching up the coins. “That’s one of the oldest tricks in the books.”
    It took a half hour to straighten that one out, to convince Brown, Lupoff & most particularly Gilden to entrust three of the coins to a representative of the Federal Government. Nate and Ves returned in high humor to Nate’s office in the ancient building that housed the Observational Branch of the Bureau of Weights and Measures.
    â€œPhone call,” Swift’s secretary declared firmly as they entered the office. She was holding the handpiece at arm’s length and facing away from her. “It’s him . I’ve been afraid to put him