Quinney returned to his hotel.
At the auction next day two or three country dealers, small men, with whom he had a nodding acquaintance, were bidding. The gentleman who was interested in the picture was present also, languidly indifferent to the proceedings. However, he became animated when the picture was put up as "a valuable Madonna and Child, the work of an old master." The gentleman bid a hundred for it, apparently to the surprise of the small dealers.
"One hundred and twenty-five," said Quinney.
The gentleman bent down to whisper a word to a man who stood next him, and then he stared hard at Quinney, with a slight frown upon his smooth forehead.
"One hundred and fifty," he said quietly.
Finally Quinney secured the picture for eleven hundred pounds, well pleased at having secured it so cheap. The rival bidder led him aside.
"You are the famous dealer, Joseph Quinney?"
Quinney smiled complacently. The gentleman continued in a whisper:
"I expected to get that picture for a hundred pounds. You have fairly outbidden me, and I could not bid a farthing more to-day; but will you kindly tell me what you will take for your bargain?"
"Sorry," said Quinney; "but I bought it on a commission for a well-known collector."