nd he did, and we followed. Long before this word had gone abroad that
there was battle royal. We were surrounded by a crowd that looked on
wondering, and when Pinkerton had offered ten thousand dollars (the
outside value of the cargo, even were it safe in San Francisco Bay) and
Bellairs, smirking from ear to ear to be the centre of so much
attention, had jerked out his answering "And fifty," wonder deepened to
excitement.

"Ten thousand one hundred," said Jim; and even as he spoke he made a
sudden gesture with his hand, his face changed, and I could see that he
had guessed, or thought that he had guessed, the mystery. As he scrawled
another memorandum in his note-book, his hand shook like a telegraph
operator's.

"Chinese ship," ran the legend; and then in big, tremulous half-text,
and with a flourish that overran the margin, "Opium!"

"To be sure," thought I, "this must be the secret." I knew that scarce a
ship came in from any Chinese port but she carried somewhere, behind a
bulkhead or in some cunning hollow of the beams, a nest of the valuable
poison. Doubtless there was some such treasure on the _Flying Scud_. How
much was it worth? We knew not; we were gambling in the dark. But Trent
knew, and Bellairs; and we could only watch and judge.

By this time neither Pinkerton nor I were of sound mind. Pinkerton was
beside himself, his eyes like lamps; I shook in every member. To any
stranger entering, say, in the course of the fifteenth thousand, we
should probably have cut a poorer figure than Bellairs himself. But we
did not pause; and the crowd watched us--now in silence, now with a buzz
of whispers.

Seventeen thousand had been reached, when Douglas B. Longhurst, forcing
his way into the opposite row of faces, conspicuously and repeatedly
shook his head at Jim, Jim's answer was a note of two words: "My
racket!" which, when the great man had perused, he shook his finger
warningly and departed--I thought, with a sorrowful countenance.

Although Mr. Longhurst knew nothing of Bellairs, the shady lawyer knew
all about the Wrecker Boss. He had seen him enter the ring with manifest
expectation; he saw him depart, and the bids continue, with manifest
surprise and disappointment. "Hallo," he plainly thought, "this is not
the ring I'm fighting, then?" And he determined to put on a spurt.

"Eighteen thousand," said he.

"And fifty," said Jim, taking a leaf out of his adversary's book.

"Twenty thousand," from Bellair