The 1933 double eagle, a $20 gold piece with a mysterious history that involves a president, a king and a Secret Service sting operation, was auctioned Tuesday last night for a record price for a coin, $7.59 million, nearly double the previous record. The anonymous buyer, believed to be an individual collector who lives in the United States, made the winning bid in a fiercely contested nine-minute auction at Sotheby's in Manhattan. Eight bidders were joined by 500 coin collectors and dealers in an auction house audience seemingly devoid of celebrity bidders, while an additional 534 observers followed the bidding on eBay. As auction houses prepare for their fall seasons in an uncertain economy, the sale price "suggests that the marketplace for important items is enormously strong," said David Redden, a vice chairman at Sotheby's, who was the auctioneer. "This is an astonishing new record for a coin," he said. In an unprecedented move, the auction proceeds were split by the U.S. Mint and a London coin dealer, Stephen Fenton, who had won that right in court after having been arrested by Secret Service agents for trying to sell the coin in the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in Manhattan in 1996. Henrietta Holsman Fore, the director of the U.S. Mint, who witnessed the sale, said, "The monies we receive will go toward helping to pay down the debt and to fight the war on terrorism." Fenton commented that the double eagle had been on "a long historic journey, with a very satisfying ending." He added, "I am thrilled with the price." The previous numismatic record holder was an 1804 U.S. silver dollar, which sold for $4.14 million in 1999. Sotheby's partner in the one-lot auction was Stack's Rare Coins, with which it shared the customary 15 percent commission. "I have never seen as much interest in the sale of any coin in my 30 years in the business," said Lawrence R. Stack, the company's managing director. "This is the Mona Lisa of coins," said Beth Deisher, editor of Coin World, the largest weekly coin publication in the United States, with a circulation of 85,000. "It is unique. Forbidden fruit." Collectors' Web sites have surged with speculation about the sale price, and enthusiasts even organized betting pools.

Question: "How many witnessed the sale online?"

OPTIONS:
- no
- yes

Answer: "534"

Response: yes

In her storage room-turned-office, Jennifer Baum works under an expanding leak that is causing the ceiling to turn brown and crumble. Mold grows in the buckets positioned to catch the water. She shrugs it off. Outside her office she has taped up a clear plastic suit, and a sign that reads, "All employees must don protective gear before coming in." Such is life in limbo. Nearly a year after Sept. 11, the Legal Aid Society-the lawyers for New York's poor and homeless-remains, well, homeless. The nonprofit has been barred from returning to its 90 Church St. headquarters, across from the World Trade Center site, because of environmental concerns. Legal Aid has uncomfortable company. More than 11,500 New Yorkers continue to work out of temporary space, according to analysis by Manhattan-based real estate brokerage TenantWise.com Inc. and Crain's New York Business. That's 8% of the 137,000 workers who lost their offices or access to them when the Twin Towers collapsed. Legal Aid's 450 displaced attorneys and staffers have spent the past 12 months spread among previously unused spaces-some unused for good reason-in the nonprofit's other offices. It could be another year and a half before they return to their old desks. They have contended with difficult working conditions as demand for Legal Aid's services is on the rise because of Sept. 11 and the deteriorating economy. The civil division is spread among a few boroughs. Their papers and documents, some 20,000 boxes worth, are stuck in a storage facility in Linden, N.J. "I am counting the days till we can have all the parts back in one place," says Steven Banks, Legal Aid's associate attorney in chief. In the memories of the exiled workers, the old office has achieved mythical proportions. They say the wood paneling and rugs had the ability to cool emotions and lift spirits. The Legal Aid office on Montague Street in Brooklyn Heights, where 65 displaced workers have cobbled together space amid the faded and scratched walls, looks more like a bargain basement.

Question: "It could be another year and a half before the workers of which organization return to their old desks?"

Response: "Band Aid Society"
OPTIONS:
- no
- yes

A: no

Problem: Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin (/'pUSkIn/; Russian: Aleksandr Sergeevich Pushkin, tr. Aleksandr Sergeyevich Pushkin; IPA: [aljI'ksandr sjI'rgjejIvjItc 'puskjIn]; 6 June [O.S. 26 May] 1799 - 10 February [O.S. 29 January] 1837) was a Russian author of the Romantic era who is considered by many to be the greatest Russian poet and the founder of modern Russian literature. Pushkin was born into Russian nobility in Moscow. His matrilineal great grandfather was Abram Gannibal, who was brought over as a slave from what is now Cameroon. Pushkin published his first poem at the age of fifteen, and was widely recognized by the literary establishment by the time of his graduation from the Tsarskoye Selo Lyceum. While under the strict surveillance of the Tsar's political police and unable to publish, Pushkin wrote his most famous play, the drama Boris Godunov. His novel in verse, Eugene Onegin, was serialized between 1825 and 1832. Notoriously touchy about his honour, Pushkin fought as many as twenty-nine duels, and was fatally wounded in such an encounter with Georges-Charles de Heeckeren d'Anthes. Pushkin had accused D'Anthes, a French officer serving with the Chevalier Guard Regiment of attempting to seduce the poet's wife, Natalya Pushkina.

Question: "How old was he when his novel in verse, Eugene Onegin, was serialized?"

Answer: "Between 26 - 33"

OPTIONS:
- no
- yes
Answer: yes

Elettra stuck the little slip of paper, on which the recipe was written, into her shabby pocket-book without looking at it. She could read and write fairly well, and had been used to helping her husband the under-steward with his accounts at Muro, but even if she had looked at the recipe she would have understood nothing of the doctor's hieroglyphics and abbreviated Latin words. The prescription was for a preparation of arsenic, which Matilde had formerly taken for some time. The chemist would not make any difficulty about preparing twenty doses of it for the Countess Macomer, though the whole quantity of arsenic contained in so many would probably be sufficient to kill one not accustomed to the medicine, if taken all at once. But though Matilde was so anxious to have the stuff before luncheon, she had a number of doses of it put away in a drawer, which she took out and counted, after Elettra had gone. She opened one of the little folded papers and looked at the fine white powder it contained, took a little on the end of her finger and tasted it. Then, from the same drawer, she took a package done up in coarser paper, and opened it likewise, looked at it, smelt it, and touched it with the tip of her tongue very cautiously indeed. It was white, too, but coarser than the medicine. She was very careful in tasting it, and she immediately rinsed her mouth with water, before she tied up the package again, shut the drawer, and put the key into her pocket.

Question: "Who opened one of the little folded papers?"

OPTIONS:
- no
- yes

Answer: "Elettra"

Response:
no