"Two hundred and fifty guineas is a very handsome sum for the box," he said, leaning forward. "Perhaps some arrangement could be made, Mr. ——"
"My name is Jocelyn Thew. The two hundred and fifty guineas bid is mine. I have the notes here ready."
The auctioneer turned towards the other bidder appealingly.
"I am acting under instructions," the latter said, "and I am not at liberty to make any arrangements to share the box."
"In that case, the bid against you at the present moment is two hundred and fifty guineas," the auctioneer told him. "Of course, the more money we get, the better—the Red Cross can do with it—but it seems to me that the present bid is adequate. If no arrangement is possible, however, I must continue the auction."
"Two hundred and seventy-five guineas."
"Three hundred," Jocelyn Thew replied coolly. "One moment, Mr. Bobby."
He leaned forward and whispered in the comedian's ear. The latter nodded and turned to the rival bidder.
"Do you understand, sir," he enquired, "that this is strictly a cash affair? I must have notes for the amount at the conclusion of the sale."
"You will have to wait until I get them, then," was the anxious reply. "I only brought two hundred and fifty with me."