� For almost two hours the antiquary had been letting his guests into the secret of antiques estimation. It turned out that there was literally everything on the antique market: one could buy or sell an empty ancient bottle as well as a tank of the 2nd World War. The probability of coming across coins was the highest. As things turned out it was quite easy to understand the business. The situation was fully clarified by the annual catalogue of coins which included specimens dating from the days of Peter the Great and up to the present time and indicated their prices in dollars. The unfamiliar words: �rarity�, �proof�, �chased gold� were explained in several phrases and seemed unintelligible only at first. Coins were followed by decorations. It was more complicated to know about them but the main sorts were catalogued as well. As for icons things were still worse here that's why for a start it was decided to take into account the following criteria: the presence of a golden or silver framework, an ark and a complicated subject. Articles made of precious metals were supposed to be bought at the rate of the cost of one gramme in dollars or cents.
      � The main thing in an article is work, � Novikov was riding his hobby-horse � the article should give you aesthetic pleasure, � two spoons out of the antiquary's collection were put near the spoon brought by the friends. � Look! Your spoon has practically no ornament while mine, � he passed his finger over the stem of one of his spoons, � have. The more complicated and elegant the pattern is the better. The price of such article is much higher. And one more subtlety. � Novikov took the spoon into his hand. � The stem of yours, that is what we take in the hand, is curved but it had been straight like the handles of mine before the beginning of the 19-th century. Then yours is less ancient. Every century back also safely doubles the initial metal price. Is that clear?
      The friends could not help listening to the antiquary, devouring every word.
      � Quite. But how can we determine more precisely when it was made? � asked Garkavyi. � By the way, we may come across not only spoons after all.
      � Hall-marks. You should pay attention to marks of assay, � the antiquary took out a folding magnifying glass. � Stamps of craftsmen will convey nothing to you for the present but hall-marks, I believe, will enable you to determine something. Look,� the guests took turns scrutinizing the letters, figures and pictures stamped on the back side of the spoon, � where the figures are you see the hall-mark. Articles having been made since the beginning of the 18th century � it is since that time that stamping has become widely spread in jeweller's art � may be more or less accurately dated by examining the form and the content of their hall-marks. � Novikov rushed to the bookcase and held out a sheet to the friends.� Here you can see different forms of hall-marks and the indication of the period when they were used. Isn't it too much information for the first time? � he darted a searching glance at the guests. � Oh, come! It's extremely interesting, � assured those, � at least one can't study this at school.
      � Very well! What haven't we mentioned yet?
      � China, � suggested Garkavyi.
      � Oh, china is not an easy subject� � Novikov took out the book �Russian China�. � Look through this catalogue to get a general idea of the matter but, to tell the truth, one can't make a fortune at china.
      � Then what can we make it from? � asked the friends again with one accord.
      The host smiled:
      � Coins, decorations � this is the most practicable. There are precious paintings, books and many other things, but this is a matter of luck rather than persistence. Though � they say beginners have luck.
      � Then we will hope for good luck, � the friends were about to get off.
      � It is time we went. We have taken you heaps of time as it is. � Never mind! You may consider it my job, � reassured Novikov.
      � We'll soon call on you, � promised the friends.
      � I can only wish you good luck� When parting �the pedlars� were overwhelmed by the feeling that is, in all probability, familiar to a jumper who has overcome a new height.
      As soon as the door shut behind the guests Novikov came rapidly back to the room, having thrown the only �I am not in� at Kaban.
      Having laid out the book before himself, he had a good look at the first page he came across. The text was set up in Latin print in two columns, each containing 36 lines. It was undoubtedly a typographical print � there were not thin lines and smooth passages characteristic of pen writing; the letters were simpler and more thickened, but only letters. Colourful initials and ornament in the form of human figures, flowers and animals were written by hand. The antiquary took the paper to the shaft of light � there were not watermarks on the sheets. He shut the book and after some reflection began to make a close study of the cover. It was precisely the cover he studied and not the framework under which they concealed the most valuable books in ancient times. It was of ordinary make: two small planks with uncomplicated stamping covered with calfskin. The back plank was half broken off and the skin was dangling on it like a stump. Novikov rubbed his patch � the cover might belong to any book published by the church press at the end of the 19th century but there was also a block ornamented by hand! The antiquary examined carefully the threads that fastened the parts to the cords. They, without question, differed from those with which the parts were sewn together. It was turning out that during the last century somebody invested the rare overseas guest in the ordinary Russian clothes. This occurrence was not extraordinary: one or another bibliomaniac prompted by the morbid passion often performed such an operation to hide his treasure as safe as possible from strange eyes. Though others did it as well, and having different motives.
      Having finished with the cover, the antiquary returned to the bookblock. Lack of the title-page and colophone confirmed him still more in his opinion that this was an incunabulum � the so-called �cradle� book among which they ranked editions published from the beginning of printing up to the 1st of January 1501. Their rarity was exceptional. But there was a special hierarchy of value within the number of incunabula too: books issued by a German Johann Gutenberg, a father of printing, were the most expensive among printed books in the world.
      Excited as he was, Novikov paced up and down the room. There was a very strong probability of having Gutenberg's 36-line Bible before him. Only 13 copies of this edition were known till that time�
      The antiquary put the book into the sideboard and straightway dialed the trunk-line number of his Moscow acquaintance, an expert in the field.

      Just before he reached the bus stop within a hundred metres of him Garkavyi heard a harsh squeal of brakes at his back. He glanced back without particular fear and, just as he had expected, saw the black BMW. �Why are they so obsessed with me?!� Garkavyi shot a glance at the street: there were no militiacars or buses and not a single taxi close by. �I've got caught!� � understood he, watching intently four �bulls�, who had got off the car, moving threateningly towards him. Strange as it might seem he didn't recognize anybody except for �Puny�. �How many of you are there?� � wondered Garkavyi and gripped his nunchaku tighter. Having already suffered in the fight, Puny clicked a knob-knife impatiently and, having put the blade in front of him, began to outflank Garkavyi. Others also tried to come up to him separately not to hinder each other. �Experienced in fights� � noted Garkavyi and pulled the cover off the nunchaku. �If all of them attack me at the same time it will be rotten�� He had only fractions of a second at his disposal.
      With small steps, trying to keep his feet on the ground, he instantly increased the distance and, when all four rushed towards him, with lightning speed left the attack line aside and approached Puny. Having whistled in the air, the nunchaku cracked mightily the latter over the hand with the knife. When striking the blow Garkavyi squatted hardly noticeably and pulled the �sticks� slightly towards him so that to impart strictly perpendicular attitude to the flying end with respect to the hand being attacked. A terrific cry escaped him and the knife hung helplessly in the air, knocked out by the terrible blow. Puny's eyes dilated with horror and pain: fragments of the broken radius came out, having torn his skin. But Garkavyi didn't see this. Having whistled in his hand for the second time, the nunchaku fell on the collar-bone of the nearest assaulter and the latter stumbled, paralysed by the acute pain in the fractured arm. �We'll have the matter out later on!� � Garkavyi gained the distance anew, � �I just won't finish you off but you will tear me to pieces, that's for sure�.
      The two that remained unharmed stopped. Fear and hatred were visible in their eyes.
      � Maybe we'll stop at that? � asked Garkavyi in a hoarse voice. There was a small hitch in the fight and he decided to avail himself of it to think out what to do next.
      � You will lie in the grave! � promised one of the attackers ominously and a �barrel� burnished coldly in his hand. � Throw down the �sticks�!
      Garkavyi stood still.
      � Don't you hear? Throw down the �sticks�! � repeated the �bull�.
      Pretending to yield, Garkavyi threw the nunchaku under his feet in a special, known to very few people way: so that to make its chain lie on his toes.
      � Aha! � the gangster lowered a bit his gun and, not letting the enemy out of his sight, moved towards him. � Where is the book, you mongrel?! � asked he hoarsely.
      � In vagina! � Garkavyi was seized with smouldering anger. He made a sharp forward movement as if kicking a football and his nunchaku, flowing up like a snake, banged its metal butt-end against the very forehead of the gun's owner.
      Tossing back his head, the �bull� sank down slowly. The abandoned �barrel� fell clattering on the asphalt.
      This was a favourite (for the complexity of technique) blow of Garkavyi. But losing touch with the ground during a fight is always dangerous: he didn't have time to subordinate completely the centre of gravity when the last of the attackers silently rushed towards him, with a stiletto, sparkling in his hand. Garkavyi managed only to bend somewhat aside: the long narrow blade tore his shirt and slid over his rib.
      With a side punch in the temple he knocked out this one too.
      �It's time I took to my heels!� � Garkavyi picked up his nunchaku and looked round: bunching up not far off, passers-by watched what was happening with curiosity and fear. �Why are you goggling at me agape? Perhaps, call the police or an ambulance!� � thought he maliciously and rushed towards the nearest yard.
      Sirens were heard wailing in the distance. Garkavyi felt his side � the shirt was all over in blood.
      Having passed some yards and made sure of his not being followed, Garkavyi dropped in at the first doorway he came across. Having reached the 4th floor, he took breath. �Perhaps I shouldn't have been so cruel with them � But then how could I come through? � it occurred to him there and then . Garkavyi examined the wound and made a wry face (One can't meet the public eye, having such a look!� He pressed a handkerchief to his aching side and called to mind all his friends, living near at hand. He could go only to Helen. �I have to return�, � Garkavyi sat down on the stairs � he felt giddy.

Belarus, 2000