Like Volenski, Madame Demidoff went to the house of Mr. James Hudson, relying on her own often-tried powers of fascination to induce him to give up what she meant to describe as a compromising letter; and, like Volenski, she felt unutterably hopeless on hearing that Mr. Hudson was dead.
A week after that Madame Demidoff had seen the announcement in the Times, and, quite unsuspecting that Volenski was on the same track as herself, felt quite relieved to see that the candlesticks were among the objects put up for sale at 108, Curzon Street. As far as she was concerned it would be a wonderfully easy matter to bid for them, and purchase them at any price.
CHAPTER XX.
A great crowd had already assembled in the dining-room, where the auction was to be held, when Volenski arrived upon the scene.
A number of dealers, mostly Jews, who all seemed to know each other, were quietly arranging among themselves as to which particular lot they each intended to purchase. The sale began punctually at eleven o’clock. Volenski looked round anxiously—the crowd in the room was very dense. He could not see Madame Demidoff. The larger pieces of furniture were first put up, and rapidly knocked down at varying prices to different dealers, who mostly got their purchases very cheaply. The only times that the prices ran at all high, was when some unfortunate outsider or private bidder attempted to compete against the clique of dealers, who stood closely packed near the desk of the auctioneer, and hurriedly ran the prices up till the poor, misguided, private bidder retired discomfited.
It was very late in the day when the curios and valuable knicknacks were at last in their turn put up for sale. Jewellery, gold and silver plate, Egyptian and other antiquities, and at last—
“A pair of unique, gold-mounted, china candlesticks,” shouted the auctioneer; “what shall we say, fifty pounds the pair?”
“Guineas,” said a voice.
“Sixty,” said another.
“Seventy,” “Eighty,” “Five,” came in rapid, successive bids from the various dealers.