"What? A nickel? Good God, woman! For half of that I would solve every murder since the beginning of time and commit some of my own. Give me that nickel. Where did you get it? Don't you know there are people who would cut ten thousand throats for a sum like that?"
"I—I didn't know it was valuable."
"It's priceless! People will sell their souls, commit perjury, betray their friends, cheat their neighbors, buy and sell votes, and even do some good things for money."
"But such a little piece—"
"Woman, you have no idea of values. Since money has become replaced by credit and barter, such pieces as this have become invaluable collectors' items. Even before that it was valuable. You could buy a lead dime with it. And if you were clever enough you could use the lead dime to buy a tin half-dollar. Then you could change the half-dollar into wooden quarters and begin all over again. A shrewd man could amass a fortune in counterfeit dollars by such trading. Of course, he couldn't buy anything with the counterfeit dollars, but reflection on the trading would strengthen his mind while he rested behind bars. At least that's the way history relates it. Zoo! Take this precious nickel, handle it carefully and with due reverence, seal it in a tube, send it through the pneumatic to the armored transport, have them place a hundred men armed to the teeth about it, and escort it solemnly and without undue ostentation to the Universal Bank, that institution which covers eight square miles and towers ten thousand feet into the air, and deposit it with proper ceremony to my account. I shall be the wealthiest man on this planet and the envy of every creature in the galaxy. But don't worry, Mrs. Brown and Smith! I shall not overcharge you. You have two cents change coming, a tidy sum—nay a fortune—and your case is as good as solved. Zoo! Sound the alarm. We go into action at once."
Bells clanged, a siren screamed, a series of red lights flashed on and off and on and off, and a distant rumble shook the building. The blonde woman caught her breath, gripped the arms of her chair to steady herself, waited until the noise and the shaking had subsided, then asked, "Do you always go into action like that?"
"Invariably," Zitts affirmed serenely. "Seismographs all over the world register when Len Zitts launches himself in pursuit of a criminal, and the underworld trembles in despair. But," he added a trifle wistfully, "it doesn't register on Mars and Venus and they never send reporters and photographers. I'm thinking of installing a heavier vibrator. Zoo! You may inform the inquirers who will be hounding you in a moment that the nemesis of crime has plunged forth to strike death and terror to the heart of criminals. You may elaborate that a bit. Mention my towering figure, nearly five feet tall, and the bulging muscles which back up my eighty-six pounds of weight. You may also speak of my handsome features, but not in a manner to attract more than a few thousand women. I have enough wives already. Now! Clear the deck! Here we go."
The blonde woman gathered her small feet under her, preparing to leap out of the way, and she took a deep breath for fear all of the air would be sucked out of the room in the wake of his rush; but to her astonishment he merely slumped down in the chair and, to all appearance, went to sleep.
"He's in action now," Zoo explained softly and musically. "Concentrating. He'll come up with a plan in ten seconds."