Part 7 (1/2)

”2000 offered, 2000. Any advance on 2000.... Come, gentlemen....”

Holm began to feel uneasy.

”2050.” It was the banker's sonorous voice.

”2200,” snapped out Holm, on the instant.

”2250,” from the corner, a little more promptly than before.

”2400,” Holm was there again at once.

Matters were getting critical now: Holm sat looking steadily in front of him, not daring to look round. The minutes were uncomfortably long, he felt as if he were on a switchback, or in the throes of approaching sea-sickness.

”2400--two thousand four hundred pounds offered, gentlemen. Any advance on 2400? 2400, going----”

Holm was on the verge of apoplexy now. What if he should have to present that bill for repairs to himself, after all?

Skipper Heil moved over to Hermansen and whispered in his ear. All were turned towards the pair--all save Holm, who sat as before, stiff as a statue in his place, looking rigidly before him.

The auctioneer stood with his hammer raised, his eyes on the banker in his corner.

”Going--going----”

”2500,” said the banker. At last!

Holm gave a start as if something had p.r.i.c.ked him behind, and looked across with a curious expression at Hermansen, who sat as impa.s.sive as ever.

The hammer fell. Holm went across to the banker, raised his hat and bowed. ”Congratulations, my dear sir; the vessel's yours. A little faulty in the bottom, as I mentioned before, but still, taking it all round, _I should say it was quite a fair deal_!”

Holm went out into the street, and, meeting Bramsen, who had been present out of curiosity, took him by the shoulders and shook him.

”Bramsen, my boy, I've got him this time. Hermansen's let himself in for it with a vengeance!”

”Lord, Mr. Holm, but you gave me a fright before it was over. I don't believe I've ever been in such a tremble all my sinful life--unless it was the time I jumped across old Weismann's bull.”

”Weismann's bull? What was that?”

”Why, it was one day I was standing outside the warehouse as innocent as a babe unborn, filling up a herring barrel, and before I knew where I was there was a great beast of a bull rus.h.i.+ng down on me at full gallop. They'd been taking him down to the slaughter-house, and he'd broke away. Well, I couldn't get into the barrel, seeing it was more than half full as it was, and there wasn't time to get across to the sheds; the brute's horns were right on top of me, like a huge great pitchfork, and I reckoned Paal Abrahamsen's days were numbered.

And then suddenly I got a revelation. I took a one--two--three, hop and a jump, and just as the beast thought he'd got me on the nail, up I went with an elegant somersault and landed clean astride of him, as neat as a--as an equidestrian statue.”

”But how did you get down again?”

”Why, that was as easy as winking, seeing he flung me off and down Mrs. Brekke's cellar stairs, so I felt it a fortnight after.”

On his way down to the office, Holm met a number of people who were all anxious to know who had bought the Spaniard. Holm was at no pains to uphold _Don Almariva's_ reputation. When Nilsen the broker came up to congratulate him on his supposed purchase, he exclaimed: ”Not me, my lad! Why, she's full of holes as a rusty sieve.” And he walked off, singing:

”He needs be something more than bold, Who'd fill his purse with Spanish gold.”

Altogether, it was a red-letter day for Knut Holm. And on entering the office he confided to Betty that he had paid Banker Hermansen in full for that matter of the building site. He told her, also, how he and the banker had been secretly at war for years past, confessing frankly that up to now the honours had been with the other side.