"Fifteen."
"Sixteen."
"Seventeen."
"Eighteen."
"Nineteen."
"Twenty."
"Twenty thousand I'm bid for a property that's worth a hundred thousand if it's worth a cent."
"Twenty-five thousand."
"Twenty-six."
"Oh, really, I can't take thousand dollar bids now. We'll go up by five thousands, if you please. Shall I say thirty?"
"Thirty."
Thirty-five."
"Forty."
"Forty-five."
"Fifty thousand."
The young man at the further end of the room rose.
"Mr. Martin," he said to the auctioneer, "would you mind waiting a moment until I use the telephone. I may say I am not bidding for myself, and I must communicate with my principal."
"Oh, I think that's all right," said Martin.
"Hold on," cried Mackeller, also rising. "I protest against this. The sale must go on."
"I'll not keep you five minutes, sir."
"The sale must go on," repeated Mackeller, determinedly.
