"One hundred guineas," Jocelyn Thew bid, turning with a good-natured smile to glance at his opponent.
The auctioneer drew himself up. The contest had begun to interest him.
Every one in the room was standing on tiptoe to watch.
"One hundred guineas is bid by my friend in the front," he declared. "A very princely offer. Shall I knock it down at that?"
One hundred and twenty was promptly bidden by the newcomer. Jocelyn Thew smiled up at the auctioneer.
"Well," he said, "I've invited my party so I suppose I'll have to stick to it. I'll make it a hundred and fifty."
"A hundred and sixty."
"A hundred and seventy-five."
"Two hundred."
"Two hundred and fifty."
The comedian's flow of badinage had ceased. An intense silence reigned in the marquee. He, in common with many of the others, was beginning to recognise a note of something unusual in this duel.