The first bid was two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, but in less than ten seconds the auctioneer was calling five hundred thousand. There was no more excitement than if he was auctioning a Bowery suit of clothes or fake jewelry.
A clerk who was working near me, well back from the rail, said it was a little connecting railroad that sent it up so high, as the other property was about nil in value. I kept on working where I sat but listened.
"Why is a jerkwater railroad exciting the bidders?" I asked the clerk.
"Well, it's leased and incorporated now into a big system."
"U-m!" I could understand now why the bidding had gradually crawled up to nine hundred thousand, where it hung again, when a bid of nine hundred and twenty-five was made, to be promptly raised by someone to nine-fifty. There was something in the tone of the last bidder that made me rise instantly and go to the rail that separated the buyers from the office.
I was not mistaken. It was Howard Byng, wonderful, powerful, great Howard, now of New York. He did not notice me at first. A man again among men, the clean-cut, prosperous Howard Byng, his masterly aquiline nose and acumen coping with bankers where he belonged. The one I left in the Waldorf fifteen years ago, just before they stole his property and made him a lowly fisherman. I knew, though outwardly stoical, it was a glorious moment for him. Nine-fifty was the last bid and the property was his. As he came out of a corner near the clerk's desk he made no effort to conceal his triumph and deposited with the cashier a certified check for two hundred and fifty thousand, balance to be paid when conveyance was completed.
His eyes filled with delight and eagerness when he saw me. The greeting of a big man is never noisy. His eyes were dancing as he carefully folded his receipt. I knew how he felt by the way he continued to grip my arm when leaving, there being a warmth and firm magnetism in it that delighted me—of a real man who does things, who removes obstacles with a punch and a bang.
"Meeting you finishes it. I am satisfied. Let's go to the Waldorf. I want to sit in the same seat where I talked with you the last time. I am going to take up life from that point, where I started astray by not following your advice," he said, just as though our meeting had been arranged as part of that day's duties.
"Have you seen little Jim?" he now questioned, after we were seated in the same quiet corner.
"No; not since she left the Keys, but I know she is all right."