British Mysteries Omnibus - The Emma Orczy Edition (65+ Titles in One Edition). Emma Orczy
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d'Orsay. No! all was not yet lost, and Volenski heaved a deep sigh of relief as he thought that to-morrow would, in any case–whether for good or bad–end this terrible suspense, which, except for a few days of blissful unconsciousness, he had had to endure for two mortal weeks.
But what of Madame Demidoff? She, like Volenski, had been enduring tortures of uncertainty, fear, doubts, hopes, alternately for the last three weeks. Directly after Grünebaum's arrest she had been communicated with by the police, but, to her horror, failed to discover the candlesticks among the articles seized in the Jew's shop. with great difficulty, and only with the help of a large amount of Russian money, she obtained a private interview with the prisoner, who, deeply revengeful at what he thought was Volenski's treachery, most willingly gave her every clue as to the whereabouts of the missing candlesticks.
A great deal more Russian money was needed to induce Isaac Davies to speak about them again; he felt suspicious, and did not like the mystery that seemed to gather round them. He flatly denied, for a long time, any knowledge of them, and it was only hard bribery that induced him to name the client to whom he had sold the candlesticks.
Like Volenski, Madame Demidoff went to the house of Mr. James Hudson, relying on her own often-tried powers of fascination to induce him to give up what she meant to describe as a compromising letter; and, like Volenski, she felt unutterably hopeless on hearing that Mr. Hudson was dead.
A week after that Madame Demidoff had seen the announcement in The Times, and, quite unsuspecting that Volenski was on the same track as herself, felt quite relieved to see that the candlesticks were among the objects put up for sale at 108, Curzon Street. As far as she was concerned it would be a wonderfully easy matter to bid for them, and purchase them at any price.
Chapter XX
A great crowd had already assembled in the dining-room, where the auction was to be held, when Volenski arrived upon the scene.
A number of dealers, mostly Jews, who all seemed to know each other, were quietly arranging among themselves as to which particular lot they each intended to purchase. The sale began punctually at eleven o'clock. Volenski looked round anxiously–the crowd in the room was very dense. He could not see Madame Demidoff. The larger pieces of furniture were first put up, and rapidly knocked down at varying prices to different dealers, who mostly got their purchases very cheaply. The only times that the prices ran at all high were when some unfortunate outsider or private bidder attempted to compete against the clique of dealers, who stood closely packed near the desk of the auctioneer, and hurriedly ran the prices up till the poor, misguided, private bidder retired discomfited.
It was very late in the day when the curios and valuable knick-knacks were at last in their turn put up for sale. Jewellery, gold and silver plate, Egyptian and other antiquities, and at last:
"A pair of unique, gold-mounted, china candlesticks," shouted the auctioneer; "what shall we say, fifty pounds the pair?"
"Guineas," said a voice.
"Sixty," said another.
"Seventy," "Eighty," "Five," came in rapid, successive bids from the various dealers.
In this preliminary skirmish Volenski had not joined. He waited till most bidders had fallen back, knowing full well that it had been arranged previously who should have the last bid for the candlesticks.
But when another voice had said "Ninety," there was a pause, and the auctioneer began his customary:
"Now then, gentlemen. A pair of unique –– "
"One hundred," said Volenski, in a voice he hardly recognised as his own, so excited was it.
"And fifty," came from a nasal tone in the front ranks.
"Two hundred," said Volenski.
"And fifty," said the nasal tones.
"Three hundred," said Volenski, who, having recognised his antagonist as one of the dealers who had purchased a large collection of other things, knew that, though the man might run him up to a pretty stiff price, he would certainly not buy bibelots at what might prove a loss to himself. He had therefore quite recovered himself, and his intense excitement was somewhat subsiding; and when the nasal tones said again:
"And fifty,"
"Five hundred pounds," said Volenski quietly.
The owner of the nasal tones thereupon shrugged his shoulders, and looked up at the ceiling, as if he expected it to give him some sign as to what his next course of action should be. He murmured once more, "And fifty," but mechanically and without conviction. And when Volenski said "Six hundred" the nasal tones were heard no more.
"Now then, gentlemen," said the auctioneer, "this pair of unique candlesticks going for the sum of six hundred pounds–six hundred pounds, gentlemen–going –– "
"Seven hundred," came from a musical voice–a lady's.
All heads were turned in the direction whence the voice had come, and curious eyes were scanning the new bidder. Volenski did not turn round; he knew well enough whose voice it was–the soft voice with a soupçon of Russian intonation in the pronunciation of the consonants. He had turned deathly pale; his tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of his mouth; his knees began to tremble under him; but in a second all this cowardice was over. Lashing himself into sudden energy, he drew himself bolt upright, and in almost defiant tones shouted to the auctioneer, "One thousand pounds."
"And five hundred," came in equally defiant tones from his fair antagonist in the rear.
"Two thousand," said Volenski.
"And five hundred," was the reply.
"Three thousand," "Four," "Five," "Six," "Ten thousand pounds."
The crowd, breathless, excited, listened and alternately gazed at the two bidders, who from opposite ends of the room, with dry feverish voices, shouted defiance at each other. Everyone felt that there was some mystery here, some tragedy, the last act of which was being enactetd before their eyes.
At this point the auctioneer leant forward, and addressing himself more particularly to Volenski, said:
"Unless some arrangement is very soon entered into I cannot keep all these gentlemen waiting. We shall have to proceed with the sale."
"Do you hold my bid?" said Volenski. "I said 'Ten thousand pounds.'"
"Twenty thousand," said Madame Demidoff quietly, as if she were talking of so many pence.
"Twenty thousand pounds," said the auctioneer, "for a pair of candlesticks. Both this gentleman and this lady are quite unknown to me. I shall have to have some guarantee from both that the money will be paid when the articles are ultimately knocked down, otherwise I must refuse to have the valuable time of these gentlemen taken up any longer. I think some arrangement should be entered into," he repeated again. "In the meanwhile the last bid of twenty thousand holds good."
Volenski was about to make an angry retort, for he was boiling over with suppressed excitement, when he felt a hand gently laid on his arm. He turned like an animal at bay and faced the enemy, who certainly at that moment did not seem very formidable. The enemy was beautifully dressed–all in black; it had dark eyes, which looked almost pleadingly into Volenski's wild ones, as if they meant to read what was passing in his thoughts, and it had a voice which spoke with the softest Russian accent he had ever heard; it had, moreover, a tiny hand, exquisitely gloved, which was resting, like a timid bird, on Volenski's coat-sleeve. At last the enemy spoke.
"Monsieur," it said in Russian, "we seem to be fighting a terribly fierce battle, you and I. Suppose we have a few moments' armistice; will you accept the white flag?"
Volenski gave a faint nod of acquiescence.
"We have, monsieur, you and I, evidently both set our hearts on being possessed of those candlesticks.