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Updated: June 9, 2025
Flynn suggests, gentlemen, that as you are both large buyers, it would, perhaps, be a convenience to you if he was to add the string of Mr. Tom Flynn, which consists of seventy animals of precisely the same quality, making one hundred and forty in all. Have you any objection, Mr. Mancune?" "No, sir." "And you, Mr. Strellenhaus?" "I should prefer it." "Very handsome!
"Here is a note for a thousand pounds." "And here is another," said Mancune. "Nothing could be more handsome, gentlemen," said the salesman. "It's a treat to see such a spirited competition. The last bid was fifty pounds a head from Mancune. The word lies with you, Mr. Strellenhaus." Mr. Jack Flynn whispered something to the salesman. "Quite so! Mr.
"It's a new firm," said Dodds's neighbour. "I thought I knew them all, but I never heard of him before." The salesman's head had disappeared, for he was whispering with the breeder. Now he suddenly straightened himself again. "Thank you for giving us a lead, sir," said he. "Now, gentlemen, you have heard the offer of Mr. Strellenhaus of Liverpool. It will give us a base to start from. Mr.
From the beginning he had stood without a trace of emotion upon his round face, like a little automatic figure which bid by clockwork. His rival was of a more excitable nature. His eyes were shining, and he was for ever twitching at his beard. "Sixty-five," he cried. "Sixty-six." "Seventy." But the clockwork had run down. No answering bid came from Mr. Strellenhaus. "Seventy bid, sir." Mr.
"Wait a minute," said a voice. "They are very fine horses, these, and I will give you a bid to start you. I will give you twenty pounds each for the string of seventy." There was a rustle as the crowd all swayed their heads to catch a glimpse of the speaker. The salesman leaned forward. "May I ask your name, sir?" "Strellenhaus Mr. Strellenhaus of Liverpool."
He sat so near that Dodds, without any wish to play the spy, could not help to some extent overlooking him as he opened the envelope. The message was a very long one. Quite a wad of melon-tinted paper came out from the tawny envelope. Mr. Strellenhaus arranged the sheets methodically upon the table-cloth in front of him, so that no eye but his own could see them.
"What name, sir?" asked the salesman. "Mr. Mancune." "Address?" "Mr. Mancune of Glasgow." "Thank you for your bid, sir. Forty pounds a head has been bid by Mr. Mancune of Glasgow. Any advance upon forty?" "Forty-one," said Strellenhaus. "Forty-five," said Mancune. The tactics had changed, and it was the turn of Strellenhaus now to advance by ones, while his rival sprang up by fives.
The waiter had a telegram in his hand, and he turned the address to Worlington Dodds. "Shure I niver heard such a name, sorr. Maybe you could tell me who owns it?" Dodds looked at the envelope. Strellenhaus was the name. "No, I don't know," said he. "I never heard it before. It's a foreign name. Perhaps if you were "
Very handsome indeed!" murmured the salesman. "Then I understand, Mr. Mancune, that your offer of fifty pounds a head extends to the whole of these horses?" "Yes, sir." A long breath went up from the crowd. Seven thousand pounds at one deal. It was a record for Dunsloe. "Any advance, Mr. Strellenhaus?" "Fifty-one." "Fifty-five." "Fifty-six." "Sixty." They could hardly believe their ears.
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