“Look you here, Mr. O'Shaughnessy,” said the auctioneer. “Massacre or no massacre, I received instructions from you to sell your stuff without reserve, and sell it I will, whatever you may say.”
“You'll do nothing of the sort, I tell you,” cried the Irishman. “Come down from that reading-desk and don't continue to make a fool of me. I'm not going to see my things thrown away. You know what they are worth as well as I do, and yet you knock them down for a quarter their value!”
“Now, my good man, if you don't get out of this room I'll have to take stronger measures with you,” said the auctioneer. “I know that the stuff is all that you say it is; but that's nothing to me: the highest bidder will get the best of it, whether he bids to half the value or a quarter the value for that matter. You are making a fool of yourself, Mr. O'Shaughnessy, but you won't make a fool of me. I'm here to sell, and sell I shall. Now sit down or leave the premises.”
“I'll not sit down. I tell you I'll not——”
“Porter,” cried the auctioneer, “turn that gentleman out, and if he won't go quietly call a policeman. You hear?”
A couple of stalwart porters approached the vendor, saying soothing words; but he refused to move, and they had to force him to the door. They did so, however, as tenderly as possible; though he kept on shouting, as he went reluctantly backward step by step, that the auctioneer was in a conspiracy to ruin him, allowing his goods to be taken away for nothing. At last he was in the street and the door was closed. “Ladies and gentlemen,” said the auctioneer, “I must apologise for this scene. Such a thing never happened in my mart before, and I hope it will never happen again. But I know my position, and I've no intention of breaking faith with the public, whatever that man may do or say. I hope you'll excuse him; he is really the best judge of antiques I ever met, but when he gets a drop of drink there's no holding him in. Now, gentlemen, he'll not disturb us again, and with your leave I'll proceed with the sale. I'll do my duty by you, and I'll do my duty by him, whether he has insulted me or not. He maybe an excitable Irishman, but that's no reason why we shouldn't do our best for him. Fair play, ladies and gentlemen, fair play to everybody. We must not allow our prejudices to blind us. You know as well as I do that the stuff is the finest that has ever come to this town, though the vendor would be safer in the hands of the police than prowling about as he has been. Now where were we?—ah, Lot 13—'Chippendale mirror, carved wood, gilt.' There's a work of art for you. Where did he get hold of such a thing, anyway? What shall we say for it?”
The thing started at a figure actually above the reserve price that Mr. O'Shaughnessy had placed upon it, and the bidding went on with a rush. The next lot—two ribbon-carved mahogany arm-chairs—seemed to be badly wanted by some one. They were knocked down at a figure twenty-five percent, beyond the reserve. So it was with everything else in the collection. Never had there been a more successful sale in the same rooms.
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So, at least, the auctioneer confessed to the vendor as they dined together that evening, and the auctioneer was in private life a truthful man, though not always so rigid in the rostrum.