and that, and one
thing and another, the purchaser might expect to clear a sum equal to
the entire estimated value of the cargo; or, gentlemen, in other words,
a sum of ten thousand dollars." At this modest computation the roof
immediately above the speaker's head (I suppose, through the
intervention of a spectator of ventriloquial tastes) uttered a clear
"Cock-a-doodle-doo!"--whereat all laughed, the auctioneer himself
obligingly joining.

"Now, gentlemen, what shall we say?" resumed that gentleman, plainly
ogling Pinkerton,--"what shall we say for this remarkable opportunity?"

"One hundred dollars," said Pinkerton.

"One hundred dollars from Mr. Pinkerton," went the auctioneer, "one
hundred dollars. No other gentleman inclined to make any advance? One
hundred dollars, only one hundred dollars----"

The auctioneer was droning on to some such tune as this, and I, on my
part, was watching with something between sympathy and amazement the
undisguised emotion of Captain Trent, when we were all startled by the
interjection of a bid.

"And fifty," said a sharp voice.

Pinkerton, the auctioneer, and the boys, who were all equally in the
open secret of the ring, were now all equally and simultaneously taken
aback.

"I beg your pardon," said the auctioneer; "anybody bid?"

"And fifty," reiterated the voice, which I was now able to trace to its
origin, on the lips of a small unseemly rag of human-kind. The speaker's
skin was grey and blotched; he spoke in a kind of broken song, with much
variety of key; his gestures seemed (as in the disease called St.
Vitus's dance) to be imperfectly under control; he was badly dressed; he
carried himself with an air of shrinking assumption, as though he were
proud to be where he was and to do what he was doing, and yet half
expected to be called in question and kicked out. I think I never saw a
man more of a piece; and the type was new to me: I had never before set
eyes upon his parallel, and I thought instinctively of Balzac and the
lower regions of the _Comedie Humaine_.

Pinkerton stared a moment on the intruder with no friendly eye, tore a
leaf from his note-book, and scribbled a line in pencil, turned,
beckoned a messenger boy, and whispered, "To Longhurst." Next moment the
boy had sped upon his errand, and Pinkerton was again facing the
auctioneer.

"Two hundred dollars," said Jim.

"And fifty," said the enemy.

"This looks lively," whispered I to Pinkerton.

"Yes; th