“Come and sit down, Daddy,” Nina said solicitously. “We’re just finishing, but I imagine Mrs. Tucker can manage to find something for you.”
Mr. Curtin slumped into a high-backed wicker chair.
“An awful thing has happened, girls,” he said. He took off his glasses with a nervous gesture, rubbed his eyes, and ran his hand through his thinning gray hair. “I’m the chairman of the committee, and I feel responsible. But—” He stopped and shook his head. “But I don’t know what to do about it.”
Louise ran to her father’s side and took his hand in hers.
“My goodness, Daddy! You look as pale as a ghost. Whatever has happened?”
“Get me a cup of coffee, honey,” Mr. Curtin said. “I think I need something to steady my nerves.”
Louise ran to the kitchen. When she returned with a steaming cup of coffee, and her father had taken a few sips, Mr. Curtin took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair.
“When it happened,” he said, “I was so stunned I just had to walk around for a while and think.”
“Daddy,” Nina said, her eyes wide, “if you don’t tell us what happened, we’re all just simply going to bust.”
Mr. Curtin managed a smile. “Sorry, honey. I’m not thinking very straight.” He paused a moment, then continued. “You remember I told you the other night about the collection of antique gold coins that my committee was bringing down here from New York to exhibit during Festival Week? Well, the case from the museum was delivered to the exhibition hall this morning. Being the committee chairman, I was there to receive it. It was all secure, and wrapped tightly around with steel bands. But when we opened it, we found that it was filled—not with the gold coins—but with worthless pieces of scrap iron.”