More Tales of the Black Widowers by Isaac Asimov Page A

years, the Hall process made aluminum cheap and the monument cap completely ordinary. Then, too, value can change with changing legend. As long as the alicorn—the horn of a unicorn—was thought to have aphrodisiac properties, the horns of narwhals and rhinoceroses were valuable. A handkerchief of a stiffish weave which could be cleaned by being thrown into the fire would be priceless for its magical refusal to burn—till the properties of asbestos became well known. “Anything that becomes rare through accident—the first edition of a completely worthless book, rare because it was worthless—becomes priceless to collectors. And synthetic jewelry of all sorts may yet make your wares valueless, Mr. Reed.”
    Reed said, “Perhaps individual items of beauty might lose some of their value, but jewelry is only the raw material of what I sell. There is still the beauty of combination, of setting, the individual and creative work of the craftsman. As for those things which are valuable for rarity alone, I do not deal with them; I will not deal with them; I have no sympathy with them, no interest in them. I myself own some things that are both rare and beautiful—own them, I mean, with no intention of ever selling them—and nothing, I hope, that is ugly and is valued by me only because it is rare. Or almost nothing, anyway.”
    He seemed to notice for the first time that the gems he had earlier distributed were lying before him. “Ah, you're all through with them, gentlemen?” He scooped them toward himself with his left hand. “All here,” he said, “each one. No omissions. No substitutions. All accounted for.” He looked at each individually. “I have showed you these, gentlemen, because there is an interesting point to be made about each of them—”
    Halsted said, “Wait. What did you mean by saying 'almost nothing'?”
    “Almost nothing?” said Reed, puzzled.
    “You said you owned nothing ugly just because it was rare. Then you said 'almost nothing.'“
    Reed's face cleared. “Ah, my lucky piece. I have it here somewhere.” He rummaged in his pocket. “Here it is. —You are welcome to look at it, gentlemen. It is ugly enough, but actually I would be more distressed at losing it than any of the gems I brought with me.” He passed his lucky piece to Drake, who sat on his left.
    Drake turned it over in his hands. It was about an inch wide, ovoid in shape, black and finely pitted. He said, “It's metal. Looks like meteoric iron.”
    “That's exactly what it is as far as I know,” said Reed.
    The object passed from hand to hand and came back to him. “It's my iron gem,” said Reed. “I've turned down five hundred dollars for it.”
    “Who the devil would offer five hundred dollars for it?” asked Gonzalo, visibly astonished.
    Avalon cleared his throat. “A collector of meteorites might, I suppose, if for any reason this one had special scientific value. The question really is, Latimer, why on Earth you turned it down.”
    “Oh,” and Reed looked thoughtful for a while. “I don't really know. To be nasty, perhaps. I didn't like the fellow.”
    “The guy who offered the money?” asked Gonzalo.
    “Yes.”
    Drake reached out for the bit of black metal and, when Reed gave it to him a second time, studied it more closely, turning it over and over. “Does this have scientific value as far as you know?”
    “Only by virtue of its being meteoric,” said Reed. “I've brought it to the Museum of Natural History and they were interested in having it for their collection if I were interested in donating it without charge. I wasn't —And I don't know the profession of the man who wanted to-buy it. I don't recall the incident very well—it was ten years ago—but I'm certain he didn't impress me as a scientist of any type.”
    “You've never seen him since?” asked Drake.
    “No, though at the time I was sure I would. In fact, for a time I had the most dramatic imaginings. But I never saw him again.