VII.

The promising buyers who had turned up at
the sale of the late Sir Saffron Hill's collection
had been secured by Eizak Sleeman's brothers,
and other labourers in the same vineyard. Lord
Eiky Drummond had fallen to his father; and,
though he felt that he could have made more
of his lordship, the duty due from a son to a
parent forbade him interfering in their transactions.

This position drove him, in some measure, into
the country; and he tried a plan, well known in
the trade, which had something of the prospecting
rod about it. He endeavoured to draw out
the local patrons of art by a travelling picturesale.
He sometimes said the sale was by order
of the sheriff, which looked official. He
sometimes gave out that the collection belonged to a
gentleman in the neighbourhood,whose
pecuniary difficulties had become too great to be
borne. This stimulated curiosity, which brought
an audience; and it was rare, indeed, if the
auction passed off without something being sold
at a handsome profit.

The enterprising picture-dealer pursued this
plan for months—the summer months—without
meeting with a promising victim. He had
pushed himself, stage by stage, far into the land,
and had just concluded an unsuccessful sale in a
very dull but substantial northern town. He
had retired, rather depressed, to his hotel, when
he was told that a gentleman wished to see him.
The proper couple had found each other, at
last! The gentleman was Mr. Huggin.

VIII.

Five years soon flew by after this interview
at the hotel, and Mr. Huggin, to all appearance,
had "bled" very freely. His walls were covered
with "noble works," "delicious productions,"
"religious subjects," and warranted
"masterpieces," from garret to cellar. Mrs. Huggin
turned up her eyes when she looked at these
treasures, shrugged her shoulders, and said
nothing. Women are so odd. Mr. Huggin
believed that the mantle of the late Sir Saffron
Hill had descended upon his shoulders; and,
as he had impressed his neighbours with the
same belief, he was supremely happy.

Eizak Sleman often made his apppearance
at Huggin Hall with a quantity of luggage.
When he left, after staying a night, he had
seldom anything more than a carpet-bag to take
down to the station. Yet, although Mr. Eizak
Sleman's visits to Huggin Hall were always
made to effect a sale, sometimes, as a matter
of policy, he attempted to repurchase.

"You know Lord Eiky Drummond?" asked
Mr. Sleman.

"I've seen his lordship in public," answered
Mr. Huggin.

"About that Teniers; he's mad a'ter it, an'
don't mind three hunderd pound."

"I'm sorry for his lordship."

"You on'y giv' me two for it, yer know."

"Mr. Sleman," said Mr. Huggin, sternly, at
this point, "I will not be talked to in this
manner. My principle is to buy pictures, not
to job them."

IX.

In spite of this stern rebuke, the purple-bloom
view of art had never taken an undivided hold
of Mr. Huggin, and had been shared with the
lower feelings of the trade. When he began to
grow tired of the barren reputation he had
established as a person of taste, he prepared his
gigantic collection for the market without the
slightest misgiving. The impression made upon
him at the sale of Sir Saffron Hill's treasures had
never faded from his mind, and Messrs. Gowen
and Gorne were, of course, the gentlemen
who received his instructions. From this
moment the hitherto constant Mr. Eizak Sleman
disappeared, and melted for ever, into the broad
bosom of the Salamans family.

X.

There was something wrong about the first
day's sale. The attendance was numerous, and
many pictures were sold, but the receipts were
ridiculously small, considering the expectations
of Mr. Huggin. Perhaps Mr. Huggin's
reputation had not been so well advertised as
the late Sir Saffron Hill's. Perhaps it would
have been better if the collection had been sold
as belonging to a mock baronet. The
auctioneers were suspiciously, almost painfully
silent. Mr. Huggin glided busily about the
room, and was much hurt to find that those who
appeared to be professional picture-dealers
abstained from rising beyond a very low bidding.
Mr. Huggin prided himself upon being a shrewd,
experienced man of business, and he thought
he knew exactly what to do under the
circumstances. He privately retained several sham
buyers for the second day's sale in order to
support the market.

The first lot that was brought forward was
an enormous piece of Chinese-looking art, that
was said to be the masterpiece of the divine
Bellini.

"Ten pounds?" began the auctioneer.

"Thirty, forty, ninety, two hund'ed, seven
hund'ed," shouted half a dozen shabby men,
who leaped up, one after the other, like so
many Jacks-in-boxes.

"Ten pounds, I say," repeated the auctioneer,
looking sternly at the sham bidders, and going
back to his starting-point.

"Ninety, two hund'ed, six hund'ed, thousan,"
exclaimed the same shabby men, leaping again.

"Gentlemen," said the auctioneer, with
dignity, "it is evident what this means. I think
we'd better close the sale."

There was much confusion after this, but no
serious opposition to the proposal; and, in half
an hour, the public had all left the place.

"Mr. Gowen—Mr. Gorne—Sir—gentlemen,"
said Mr. Huggin, excited and humbled,
in the auctioneer's private counting-house,
"there's some mistake about these pictures—
there is, indeed!"

"Mr. Huggin," replied Mr. Gowen, in a tone
of pity, "the mistake is entirely on your side.