From Time to Time by Jack Finney

man at the desk was tall, lean-an athlete's build-and remarkably handsome; his nameplate on the desk said, Michael Stumph Manager. When I said hello, I included my best smile, and said, "My plane was late, so I'm late too, but I hope you have a room for me.
    "Do you have a reservation?
    "I'm sorry, I don't.
    His fingers moved through some cards. "A single? he said deadpan, not a glance at the big cabby just behind me, and I had to smile: he could do "imperturbable very well.
    "Well, Mike said, smiling a little too now, winking at the cabby, who grinned-we were a happy bunch all of a sudden- I can give you a nice single on the Park side. I didn't ask the room rate, I wasn't interested, just said that would be great. He waited while I printed my name on the registration card, then read it upside down. "And how will you be paying for this, Mr. Morley? Check or credit card?
    I was all set for him, my left hand lying on the counter, loosely clenched. "Neither, I said, "in gold, opening my hand to let a dozen gold coins spill onto the marble. It was fun, and his eyes widened. Then Mike Stumpf topped me.
    He reached out, fingers spreading like a spider's legs, and drew the scattered coins together, lifting his hand, fingers closing, and the coins followed to rise into a neat stack. Like cutting a deck of cards, he split the stack into two equal smaller stacks side by side, then again drew them up between his fingers, the coins magically interleaving, into a single stack once more. I said, "I've tried that all my life. Never did it even once, and never will.
    "Just takes a little practice, he said easily, and the hotel manager was gone: without a change in a thread of his suit or hair of his head, it was Get-Rich-Quick Wallingford who stood smiling at me now, and I knew this man had played a lot of cards in his time and knew his way around more than this lobby.
    I had my story ready; wallet, checks, credit cards stolen at the airport. But I was a coin dealer: gold only, U.S. and Edwardian English coins. Here from Chicago a couple times a year, usually staying here or at the Algonquin. Something that bothers me a little is that I enjoy lying. Once I start, the convincing details flow out effortlessly; I don't even have to think. Tomorrow, I went on, bringing my folded money belt from my coat pocket and setting it on the counter to let the other coins inside it clink, I'd be selling each of my coins for-I wasn't sure of this-several hundred dollars apiece. Take as many as you like for security and, please-so this cabdriver doesn't kill me-advance me a hundred in cash.
    G.R.Q. Wallingford Stumpf knew what these coins were, and he simply nipped the top coin off the stack, saying, "One is more than enough, and now the coin appeared on the back of his hand between knuckle and finger joints. And by slightly moving his fingers as though playing a piano, he made the coin walk back and forth across the backs of his fingers, flip-flopping heads to tails, tails to heads, back and forth so easily. I'd have given him the gold piece to be able to do that. "I'll give you a receipt for this, he said, the coin disappearing into his closing palm, "and you can sign for the hundred.
    I felt marvelous signing the receipt. Each of my hard-earned nineteenth-century dollars had become worth about forty here. I had over twenty-five thousand dollars, and from my hundred dollars' cash I gave the cabby a ten for the six-dollar fare, and added another ten. "That's for being a good boy.
    "Welcome to New York, boss, he said. Then Michael Stumpf accepted my invitation, and we went into the Oak Bar for a nightcap.
    In my room I turned on the television, clicking slowly through the channels just to enjoy the novelty of it again; what I saw had not improved. Then I got out the Manhattan phone book, looking at the new cover with some interest. Sitting on the bed, the phone book on my lap, I opened it, and found the Danziger listing, a fairly long one. I hesitated, then