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〃I wouldn't call them careless；〃 he said。
I held my face together while I said： 〃And just between the two of us this divorce stuff is a lot of hooey。 It's something else entirely； isn't it？〃
〃Yes；〃 he said softly； 〃and something I don't like more every minute I think about it。 Here。〃
He pulled something out of his pocket and dropped it into my hand。 It was a flat key。
〃No need for you to wait around in the hall； if I happen to be out。 I have two of them。 What time would you think you would e？〃
〃About four…thirty； the way it looks now。 You sure you want to give me this key？〃
〃Why； we're in the same racket；〃 he said； looking up at me innocently； or as innocently as he could look through a pair of dark glasses。
At the edge of the lobby I looked back。 He sat there peacefully； with the half…smoked cigarette dead between his lips and the gaudy brown and yellow band on his hat looking as quiet as a cigarette ad on the back page of the Saturday Evening Post。
We were in the same racket。 So I wouldn't chisel him。 Just like that。 I could have the key to his apartment and go in and make myself at home。 I could wear his slippers and drink his liquor and lift up his carpet and count the thousand dollar bills under it。 We were in the same racket。
7
The Belfont Building was eight stories of nothing in particular that had got itself pinched off between a large green and chromium cut rate suit emporium and a three…story and basement garage that made a noise like lion cages at feeding time。 The small dark narrow lobby was as dirty as a chicken yard。 The building directory had a lot of vacant space on it。 Only one of the names meant anything to me and I knew that one already。 Opposite the directory a large sign tilted against the fake marble wall said： Space for Renting Suitable for Cigar Stand。 Apply Room 316。
There were two open…grill elevators but only one seemed to be running and that not busy。 An old man sat inside it slack…jawed and watery…eyed on a piece of folded burlap on top of a wooden stool。 He looked as if he had been sitting there since the Civil War and had e out of that badly。
I got in with him and said eight； and he wrestled the doors shut and cranked his buggy and we dragged upwards lurching。 The old man breathed hard； as if he was carrying the elevator on his back。
I got out at my floor and started along the hallway and behind me the old man leaned out of the car and blew his nose with his fingers into a carton full of floor sweepings。
Elisha Morningstar's office was at the back； opposite the firedoor。 Two rooms； both lettered in flaked black paint on pebbled glass。 Elisha Morningstar。 Numismatist。 The one farthest back said： Entrance。
I turned the knob and went into a small narrow room with two windows； a shabby little typewriter desk； closed； a number of wall cases of tarnished coins in tilted slots with yellowed typewritten labels under them； two brown filing cases at the back against the wall； no curtains at the windows； and a dust gray floor carpet so threadbare that you wouldn't notice the rips in it unless you tripped over one。
An inner wooden door was open at the back across from the filing cases； behind the little typewriter desk。 Through the door came the small sounds a man makes when he isn't doing anything at all。 Then the dry voice of Elisha Morningstar called out：
〃e in； please。 e in。〃
I went along and in。 The inner office was just as small but had a lot more stuff in it。 A green safe almost blocked off the front half。 Beyond this a heavy old mahogany table against the entrance door held some dark books； some flabby old magazines； and a lot of dust。 In the back wall a window was open a few inches； without effect on the musty smell。 There was a hatrack with a greasy black felt hat on it。 There were three long…legged tables with glass tops and more coins under the glass tops。 There was a heavy dark leather…topped desk midway of the room。 It had the usual desk stuff on it； and in addition a pair of jeweller's scales under a glass dome and two large nickel…framed magnifying glasses and a jeweller's eyepiece lying on a buff scratch pad； beside a cracked yellow silk handkerchief spotted with ink。
In the swivel chair at the desk sat an elderly party in a dark gray suit with high lapels and too many buttons down the front。 He had some stringy white hair that grew long enough to tickle his ears。 A pale gray bald patch loomed high up in the middle of it； like a rock above timberline。 Fuzz grew out of his ears； far enough to catch a moth。
He had sharp black eyes with a pair of pouches under each eye； brownish purple in color and traced with a network of wrinkles and veins。 His cheeks were shiny and his short sharp nose looked as if it had hung over a lot of quick ones in its time。 A Hoover collar which no decent laundry would have allowed on the premises nudged his Adam's apple and a black string tie poked a small hard knot out at the bottom of the collar； like a mouse getting ready to e out of a mousehole。
He said： 〃My young lady had to go to the dentist。 You are Mr。 Marlowe？〃
I nodded。
〃Pray； be seated。〃 He waved a thin hand at the chair across the desk。 I sat down。 〃You have some identification； I presume？〃
I showed it to him。 While he read it I smelled him from across the desk。 He had a sort of dry musty smell； like a fairly clean Chinaman。
He placed my card face down on top of his desk and folded his hands on it。 His sharp black eyes didn't miss anything in my face。
〃Well； Mr。 Marlowe； what can I do for you？〃
〃Tell me about the Brasher Doubloon。〃
〃Ah； yes；〃 he said。 〃The Brasher Doubloon。 An interesting coin。〃 He lifted his hands off the desk and made a steeple of the fingers； like an old time family lawyer getting set for a little tangled grammar。 〃In some ways the most interesting and valuable of all early American coins。 As no doubt you know。〃
〃What I don't know about early American coins you could almost crowd into the Rose Bowl。〃
〃Is that so？〃 he said。 〃Is that so？ Do you want me to tell you？〃
〃What I'm here for； Mr。 Morningstar。〃
〃It is a gold coin； roughly equivalent to a twenty…dollar gold piece； and about the size of a half dollar。 Almost exactly。 It was made for the State of New York in the year 1787。 It was not minted。 There were no mints until 1793； when the first mint was opened in Philadelphia。 The Brasher Doubloon was coined probably by the pressure molding process and its maker was a private goldsmith named Ephraim Brasher； or Brashear。 Where the name survives it is usually spelled Brashear； but not on the coin。 I don't know why。〃
I got a cigarette into my mouth and lit it。 I thought it might do something to the musty smell。 〃What's the pressure molding process？〃
〃The two halves of the mold were engraved in steel； in intaglio； of course。 These halves were then mounted in lead。 Gold blanks were pressed between them in a coin press。 Then the edges were trimmed for weight and smoothed。 The coin was not milled。 There were no milling machines in 1787。〃
〃Kind of a slow process；〃 I said。
He nodded his peaked white head。 〃Quite。 And； since the surface…hardenin