"
"You attend to your business and I'll attend to mine!" the old gentleman
answered, savagely. "Most improper behavior, I call it, trying to buy
in your own goods in this bare-faced manner. My name is Stephen
Hammonde, and the money's in my pocket for this or anything else I care
to buy."
Mr. Waddington raised his hammer and struck the desk in front of him.
As his clerk entered the sale, the auctioneer looked up and caught
Burton's eye. He beckoned to him eagerly. Burton came up to the
rostrum.
"Burton," Mr. Waddington exclaimed, "I want to talk to you! You see
what's happened to me?" he went on, mopping his forehead with his
handkerchief.
"Yes, I see!
"It's that d--d bean!" Mr. Waddington declared. "But look here,
Burton, can you tell me what's happened to the other people?"
"I cannot," Burton confessed. "I am beginning to get an idea, perhaps."
"Stand by for a bit and watch," Mr. Waddington begged. "I must go on
with the sale now. Take a little lunch with me afterwards. Don't
desert me, Burton. We're in this together."
Burton nodded and found a seat at a little distance from the rostrum.
From here he watched the remainder of the morning's sale. The whole
affair seemed to resolve itself into a repetition of the sale of the
chest.
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