Now it was Skeeve’s turn to whistle. I might have been tempted myself, but whistling is difficult with a forked tongue.
“If that’s true, this shipment is worth a fortune. He’s got enough of them here.”
“That is indeed the puzzlement. Boss,” Guido said, looking at the cases. “If my memory is not seriously in error, there were only two thousand copies of this issue printed … yet if all these cases are full of the same merchandise, there are considerably more copies than that in this shipment to which we are referrin’. How this could be I am uncertain, but the explanation which occurs to me is less than favorable to the owner.”
“Forgeries!” Nunzio squeaked. “The guy’s a multicolored paper hanger!”
“A multi . . . never mind!” Skeeve waved. “What good would forged comics be?”
“The same as any other forgery,” Guido shrugged. “You pass ‘em off as originals and split with the money before anyone’s the wiser. In some ways it’s better’n phony money, since it isn’t as hard to duplicate comics and, as you’se can see, they’re worth more per pound. The paper’s cheaper, too.”
My pet surveyed the shipment.
“So we’ve been made unwitting accomplices to a comic-forging deal, eh?”
“… And without even gettin’ a piece of the action,” Nunzio snarled.
“That wasn’t what I was thinking about,” Skeeve said, shaking his head. “I was thinking of all the collectors who are going to plunk down their money to get a genuine collector’s item, only to have the bottom drop out of the market when it’s discovered that it’s been flooded with forgeries.”