The Penguin Book of Gaslight Crime - Michael Sims [40]
Very quietly the auctioneer said that there was no need for him to expatiate on the notable character of the treasure he had to offer for sale, and with this preliminary he requested them to bid. Someone said twenty thousand francs, which was received with much laughter; then the bidding went steadily on until it reached nine hundred thousand francs, which I knew to be less than half the reserve the Government had put upon the necklace. The contest advanced more slowly until the million and a half was touched, and there it hung fire for a time, while the auctioneer remarked that this sum did not equal that which the maker of the necklace had finally been forced to accept for it. After another pause, he said that as the reserve was not exceeded, the necklace would be withdrawn, and probably never again offered for sale. He therefore urged those who were holding back to make their bid. At this the contest livened until the sum of two million three hundred thousand francs had been offered, and now I knew the necklace would be sold. Nearing the three million mark the competition thinned down to a few dealers from Hamburg and the Marquis of Warlingham, from England, when a voice that had not yet been heard in the auction-room said, in a tone of some impatience—
“One million dollars.”
There was an instant hush, then the scribbling of pencils, as each person there reduced the sum to its equivalent in his own currency: pounds for the English, francs for the French, marks for the German, and so on. The aggressive tone and the clear-cut face of the bidder proclaimed him an American, not less than the financial denomination he had used. In a moment it was realised that his bid was a clear leap of more than two million francs, and a sigh went up from the audience as if this settled it, and the great sale was done. Nevertheless, the auctioneer’s hammer hovered over the lid of his desk, and he looked up and down the long line of faces turned towards him. He seemed reluctant to tap the board, but there was no further price bid against this tremendous sum, and with a sharp click the mallet fell.
“What name?” he asked, bending over towards the customer.
“Cash,” replied the American. “Here’s the cheque for the amount. I’ll take the diamonds with me.”
“Your request is somewhat unusual,” protested the auctioneer mildly.
“I know what you mean,” interrupted the American—“you think the cheque may not be cashed. You will notice it is drawn on the Crédit-Lyonnais, which is practically next door. I must have the jewels with me. Send round your messenger with the cheque: it will take only a few minutes to find out whether or not the money is there to meet it. The necklace is mine, and I insist on having it.”
The auctioneer with some demur handed the cheque to the representative of the French Government who was present, and this official himself went to the bank. There were some other things to be sold, and the auctioneer endeavoured to go on through the list, but no one paid the slightest attention to him.
Meanwhile I was studying the countenance of the man who had made the astounding bid, when I should instead have adjusted my preparations to meet the new conditions confronting me. Here was a man about whom we knew nothing whatever. I had come to the instant conclusion that he was a prince of criminals, and that some design, not at that moment fathomed by me, was on foot to get possession of the jewels. The handing up of the cheque was clearly a trick of some sort, and I fully expected the official to return