"I have an old pistol," Jeff said, "and maybe I'd sell it if I got the right price."
The man smiled. "Mister, I sell antiques. I do not buy them."
"You don't? Where do you get your stock then?"
The smile became a grin. "I get my merchandise in my own way. Let me see your pistol."
Jeff handed it over. The man examined it closely and finally said, "They're a drug on the market. I'll give you fifty cents."
"In that case, wrap up six for me. I'll give you three dollars for 'em."
"Where would I get six?"
"You said they're a drug on the market."
"So," the man admitted, "are most other antiques. Their value depends on how badly somebody wants them. Find somebody who wants the pistol and you'll get a fair price. To somebody who doesn't want it, it isn't worth a penny."
"That makes sense."