"That's awfully good of you."
"Not a bit, laddie, no, no, and far from it. Only too glad."
Willie had returned from his rambles among the connoisseurs, and Pongo's brother was back on his pedestal. The high-priest cleared his throat and resumed his discourse.
"Now that you have all seen this superb figure we will—I was offered one thousand—one thousand-one-one-one-one—eleven hundred. Thank you, sir. Eleven hundred I am offered."
The high-priest was now exuberant. You could see him doing figures in his head.
"You do the bidding," said Brother Bill.
"Right-o!" said Archie.
He waved a defiant hand.
"Thirteen," said the man at the back.
"Fourteen, dash it!"
"Fifteen!"
"Sixteen!"
"Seventeen!"
"Eighteen!"
"Nineteen!"
"Two thousand!"
The high-priest did everything but sing. He radiated good will and bonhomie.
"Two thousand I am offered. Is there any advance on two thousand? Come, gentlemen, I don't want to give this superb figure away. Twenty-one hundred. Twenty-one-one-one-one. This is more the sort of thing I have been accustomed to. When I was at Sotheby's Rooms in London, this kind of bidding was a common-place.
