In this preliminary skirmish Volenski had not joined. He waited till most bidders had fallen back, knowing full well that it had been arranged previously who should have the last bid for the candlesticks.
But when another voice had said “Ninety,” there was a pause, and the auctioneer began his customary—
“Now then, gentlemen. A pair of unique——”
“One hundred,” said Volenski, in a voice he hardly recognised as his own, so excited was it.
“And fifty,” came from a nasal tone in the front ranks.
“Two hundred,” said Volenski.
“And fifty,” said the nasal tones.
“Three hundred,” said Volenski, who, having recognised his antagonist as one of the dealers who had purchased a large collection of other things, knew that, though the man might run him up to a pretty stiff price, he would certainly not buy bibelots at what might prove a loss to himself. He had therefore quite recovered himself, and his intense excitement was somewhat subsiding; and when the nasal tones said again—
“And fifty.”
“Five hundred pounds,” said Volenski quietly.