He opened the case and passed it to me, when I saw that it was lined with purple velvet and contained what looked like two old ivory replicas of the mysterious coin.
“Mr. Polton is quite an artist,” I said, regarding them admiringly. “But what are you going to do with these?”
“I had intended to take them round to the British Museum and show them to the keeper of the coins and medals, or one of his colleagues. But I think I will just ask a few questions and hear what he says before I produce the casts. Have you time to come round with me?”
“I shall make time. But what do you want to know about the coin?”
“It is just a matter of verification,” he replied. “My books on the British coinage describe the Charles the Second guinea as having a tiny elephant under the bust on the obverse, to show that the gold from which it was minted came from the Guinea Coast.”
“Yes,” said I. “Well, there is a little elephant under the bust in this coin.”
“True,” he replied. “But this elephant has a castle on his back, and would ordinarily be described as an elephant and castle, to distinguish him from the plain elephant which appeared on some coins. What I want to ascertain is whether there were two different types of guinea. The books make no mention of a second variety.”
“Surely they would have referred to it if there had been,” said I.
“So I thought,” he replied; “but it is better to make sure than to think.”
“I suppose it is,” I agreed without much conviction, “though I don’t see that, even if there were two varieties, that fact would have any bearing on what we want to know.”
“Neither do I,” he admitted. “But then you can never tell what a fact will prove until you are in possession of the fact. And now, as we seem to have finished, perhaps we had better make our way to the Museum.”
The department of coins and medals is associated in my mind with an impassive-looking Chinese person in bronze who presides over the upper landing of the main staircase. In fact, we halted for a moment before him to exchange a final word.
“It will probably be best,” said Thorndyke, “to say nothing about this coin, or, indeed, about anything else. We don’t want to enter into any explanations.”
“No,” I agreed. “It is best to keep one’s own counsel;” and with this we entered the hall, where Thorndyke led the way to a small door and pressed the electric bell-push. An attendant admitted us, and when we had signed our names in the visitors’ book, he ushered us into the keeper’s room. As we entered, a keen-faced, middle-aged man who was seated at a table inspected us over his spectacles, and, apparently recognizing Thorndyke, rose and held out his hand.
“Quite a long time since I have seen you,” he remarked after the preliminary greetings. “I wonder what your quest is this time.”
“It is a very simple one,” said Thorndyke. “I am going to ask if you can let me look at a Charles the Second guinea dated 1663.”
“Certainly I can,” was the reply, accompanied by an inquisitive glance at my friend. “It is not a rarity, you know.”
He crossed the room to a large cabinet, and having run his eye over the multitudinous labels, drew out a small, very shallow drawer. With this in his hand he returned, and picking a coin out of its circular pit, held it out to Thorndyke, who took it from him, holding it delicately by the edge. He looked at it attentively for a few moments, and then silently presented the obverse for my inspection. Naturally my eye at once sought the little elephant under the bust, and there it was; but there was no castle on its back.
“Is this the only type of guinea issued at that date?” Thorndyke asked.
“The only type,” was the reply. “This is the first issue of the guinea.”
“There was no variation or alternative form?”
“There was a form which had no elephant under the bust. Only those which were minted from African gold bore the elephant.”
“I notice that this coin has a plain elephant under the bust; but I seem to have heard of a guinea, bearing this date, which had an elephant and castle under the bust. You are sure there was no such guinea?”
Our official friend shook his head as he took the coin from Thorndyke and replaced it in its cell. “As sure,” he replied, “as one can be of a universal negative. The elephant and castle did not appear until 1685.” He picked up the drawer and was just moving away towards the cabinet when there came a sudden change in his manner.
“Wait!” he exclaimed, stopping and putting down the drawer. “You are quite right. Only it was not an issue; it was a trial piece, and only a single coin was struck. I will tell you about it. There is a rather curious story hanging to that piece.
“This guinea, as you probably know, was struck from dies cut by John Roettier, and was one of the first coined by the mill-and-screw process in place of the old hammer-and-pile method. Now when Roettier had finished the dies, a trial piece was struck; and in striking that piece the obverse die cracked right across, but apparently only at the last turn of the screw, for the trial piece was quite perfect. Of course, Roettier had to cut a new die; and for some reason he made a slight alteration. The first die had an elephant and castle under
