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Updated: May 9, 2025
But at that moment a little round-faced, ruddy-cheeked gentleman, who was breakfasting at the next table, leaned forward and interrupted him. "Did you say a foreign name, sir?" said he. "Strellenhaus is the name." "I am Mr. Strellenhaus Mr. Julius Strellenhaus, of Liverpool. I was expecting a telegram. Thank you very much."
Strellenhaus shrugged his shoulders. "I am buying for another, and I have reached his limit," said he. "If you will permit me to send for instructions " "I am afraid, sir, that the sale must proceed." "Then the horses belong to this gentleman." For the first time he turned towards his rival, and their glances crossed like sword-blades. "It is possible that I may see the horses again."
Strellenhaus has offered twenty pounds a head." "Guineas," said Holloway. "Bravo, Mr. Holloway! I knew that you would take a hand. You are not the man to let such a string of horses pass away from you. The bid is twenty guineas a head." "Twenty-five pounds," said Mr. Strellenhaus. "Twenty-six." "Thirty." It was London against Liverpool, and it was the head of the trade against an outsider.
He would make one more effort, if he sacrificed his profit by doing so. "At the end of your rope, Mr. Holloway?" asked the salesman, with the suspicion of a sneer. "Thirty-five," cried Holloway gruffly. "Thirty-six," said Strellenhaus. "Then I wish you joy of your bargain," said Holloway. "I don't buy at that price, but I should be glad to sell you some." Mr.
Strellenhaus, the same apple-faced gentleman whom Dodds had noticed in the coffee-room, stood looking at the horses with the sharp, quick glances of a man who knows what he is looking for. "Thirty-one," said Holloway, with the air of a man who has gone to his extreme limit. "Thirty-two," said Strellenhaus, promptly. Holloway grew angry at this persistent opposition.
Holloway stood with his mouth open, staring blankly in front of him. The salesman tried hard to look as if such bidding and such prices were nothing unusual. Jack Flynn of Kildare smiled benignly and rubbed his hands together. The crowd listened in dead silence. "Sixty-one," said Strellenhaus.
His red face flushed redder still. "Thirty-three!" he shouted. "Thirty-four," said Strellenhaus. Holloway became thoughtful, and entered a few figures in his note-book. There were seventy horses. He knew that Flynn's stock was always of the highest quality. With the hunting season coming on he might rely upon selling them at an average of from forty-five to fifty.
"I hope so," said Mr. Mancune; and his white, waxed moustache gave a feline upward bristle. So, with a bow, they separated. Mr. Strellenhaus walked, down to the telegraph-office, where his message was delayed because Mr.
Strellenhaus took no notice of the irony. He was still looking critically at the horses. The salesman glanced round him in a perfunctory way. "Thirty-six pounds bid," said he. "Mr. Jack Flynn's lot is going to Mr. Strellenhaus of Liverpool, at thirty-six pounds a head. Going going " "Forty!" cried a high, thin, clear voice.
The same thought had occurred to the salesman. "As a mere matter of business, gentlemen," said he, "it is usual in such cases to put down a small deposit as a guarantee of bona fides. You will understand how I am placed, and that I have not had the pleasure of doing business with either of you before." "How much?" asked Strellenhaus, briefly. "Should we say five hundred?"
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