“The chap who says he saw her drop it had his back turned at the time,” put in Matt, and turning to the individual in question, he added: “Can you swear that you saw the piece of statuary leave her hand?”
“N-no, I can’t do that,” returned the fellow slowly. “But it went down at her feet, and——”
“You imagined the rest,” finished Matt. “I told you so,” he went on triumphantly.
“See here; you shut up,” cried the auctioneer, losing his temper. “Dilks, come here and help me,” he went on, appealing to the assistant he had before called Andrew.
The assistant auctioneer came forward upon this. His face wore a troubled look, as if he did not relish the duty he was called upon to perform.
“I’m afraid there is some mistake here, Mr. Gulligan,” he said in a low tone, meant only for the auctioneer’s ears.
“Some mistake!” howled Caleb Gulligan, for such was the auctioneer’s name. “I don’t make mistakes.”
“I saw the man run out as soon as the statuary was broken, and by his manner I am sure he must be the guilty party.”
“See here, Andrew Dilks, who is running this establishment?” stormed Caleb Gulligan wrathfully. “I lay the accident at the door of the young woman, and, as the man is gone, she will pay the bill—or take the consequences.”