Rand stooped and put his hand into the corner. For a moment I thought he was picking up something, but he straightened up and brushed his fingers one against the other as if ridding them of dust, so I knew his hands were empty.
In a moment he signified he was through and we left the place, and at the corner parted with the man from Mahler's. We walked on toward my office.
"What do you make of that?" said Rand suddenly, and I saw that he was holding something toward me between his thumb and forefinger. I was sure he had put neither hand in his pockets since we had left the bank.
The small, bright object was merely a plain, smooth-worn bit of steel, thinner than a penny, and not as broad, with a small round hole in the centre. Just a tiny disk of steel.
"Did you pick that up in the vault?" I asked.
"Yes, out of that dark corner by the door."
"Why, how is that? I saw your hands as you rose and they were empty."
"Oh, no, you were mistaken, just as that man from Mahler's was. I merely palmed the disk, that is all, so he could not see it. There is no reason why he should be on the inside of this case. He thinks too much of his own cleverness as it is."
"Well, what is this thing?" I said, slightly irritated at having been so easily tricked.
"I wish I could answer that question as easily as you ask it," replied Rand, and relapsed into silence.