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he often stared off into the distance and sighed, which was odd in and of itself, but he also
sighed whenever he looked at Finch. Most troubling of all, Hugh was losing track of his hoard.
It was dribbling all over the house in an alarming fashion, particularly in places Finch tended
to frequent. For example, just this morning Finch had woken up to find seven Roman coins,
two doubloons, three Krugerrand, and over a dozen gold guineas in his bed.
As he did every morning, Finch gathered the coins and put them into the lovely casket Hugh
had gifted him. He’d tried to give the coins back several times, but Hugh wouldn’t hear of it.
That had been a shock. A dragon never turned down wealth of any sort, and especially didn’t
refuse the return of part of his hoard. Finch had warned Hugh to be more careful with his
treasure, but it’d done no good. Finch’s casket was now close to overflowing, and there was
no end to the madness in sight. It worried him enough that, after dressing, he begrudgingly
decided to call Everard.
The phone rang, then Everard answered. “Well, if it isn’t my brother’s beloved typewriter. To
what do I owe the pleasure?”
Finch made himself count to ten. Everard could be so provoking at times. “This is Finch, Hugh’s
secretary. I’m calling because of your brother. I’m worried about him.”
“Are you indeed? How intriguing. May I ask what’s he up to that worries you? Is he ill in some
way? What are his symptoms?” There was concern in Everard’s voice, although Finch had
reason to suspect it was feigned. He was likely much more interested in being able to stick his
nose where it didn’t belong.
“He’s himself, I suppose, but more so, if that makes any sense. That wouldn’t normally be a
problem, but he’s losing track of his hoard.”
Everard was silent for a few seconds, which was quite unusual for him. “Losing his hoard how,
precisely?”
“Bits of it are turning up where they shouldn’t be. Mostly coins, but some trinkets and jewelry
as well. Just yesterday I found eighteen gold coins of varying types in my office, an ingot on
my night table, and a handful of diamonds in my pocket when I undressed to go to bed. Just
now, upon waking, I discovered two dozen more coins scattered across my bed.”
“Like rose petals?”
Finch was taken aback. “I beg your pardon.”
