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correct, sir?”
    “Yes, yes,” he said, somewhat testily. “The whole family had gathered, so I came into the living room, here, to see how everyone was getting along.”
    “It was my birthday,” Mrs. Havistock said. “We were going to have a little party.”
    “In other words,” Georgio said, “no one was in the library with the coins until Mr. Vanwinkle returned with the guards to start them loading the boxes. Is that right?”
    He looked at them all. No one answered.
    “Mr. Havistock, how long were you gone from the library?”
    “A minute or two. No more than that.”
    “Mr. Vanwinkle, from the moment you left the library until you returned with the guards, how much time elapsed?”
    “Couldn’t have been more than two minutes. Then my uncle reentered the library. He supervised the loading of the dolly. I went back to the outside corridor, rejoined Miss Bateson, and we both went down to the street to oversee the loading of the armored van.”
    Georgio was jotting furiously in his notebook. Then he looked up. “In other words, the packed coins were unattended in the library for a period of approximately two minutes?”
    “I regret to say,” Archibald Havistock declaimed in his resonant voice, “you are correct. It was my fault. I should never have left them alone.”
    The detective ignored that. “When you came into the living room, sir, who was present?”
    Havistock frowned. “Hard to remember. People were milling about. Some going into the kitchen to sample things the caterer had brought.”
    “The caterer?” Georgio said sharply. “When did the caterer arrive?”
    “Oh, that was at least two hours previously,” Mrs. Havistock said. “All cold dishes. The delivery men were long gone before Miss Bateson arrived, and they started packing the coins.”
    “Okay,” the detective said. “Scratch the caterers. Let’s get back to who was here, in the living room, when Mr. Havistock came in from the library. Were you here, Mrs. Havistock?”
    “I was,” she said firmly. Then, hesitant, “I think I was. Part of the time. I may have stepped into the kitchen to see how Ruby was getting along.”
    “Mrs. Minchen, were you here?”
    “Right here,” she said in an unexpectedly girlish voice. “Exactly where I’m sitting now.”
    “Well, not exactly, darling,” her husband said. “We were both sitting on the chocolate couch—remember?”
    “And where was young Miss Havistock during the two minutes her father was in this room?”
    “She was here,” Mrs. Havistock said.
    “And where were your son and his wife—were they also in this room during that two-minute period?”
    They all looked at each other helplessly.
    “Look here,” Archibald Havistock said angrily. “I told you we were all milling about. People were sitting, standing, moving to the kitchen, mixing a drink for themselves. I deeply object to your line of questioning. You’re implying that a member of my family might have stolen the Demaretion.”
    Al Georgio slapped his notebook shut with a smack that startled us all. He glared at them. “The armored truck guards couldn’t have done it,” he said, addressing Havistock. “Miss Bateson couldn’t have done it. Who do you want me to suspect—the man in the moon?”
    “I resent that,” Lenore Wolfgang said.
    “Resent away,” the detective said, standing up. “This is only the beginning. I’ll be back.”
    He started out, then stopped suddenly and turned back to Havistock. “Who knew you kept the two extra display cases in your bedroom closet?” he demanded.
    For the first time Mr. Havistock appeared flustered. He could hardly get the words out. “Why…” he said, almost stammering, “I suppose everyone did. All the family.”
    Georgio nodded grimly and stalked out. I rose hastily and ran after him.
    When we were back in his car, he said, “How about some lunch, Dunk? A hamburger?”
    “Fine,” I said. “I’ll pay for my own.”
    “Okay,” he said