"Why?" queried Hadlow.
"Because Mrs. Trentham will be among the bidders."
"How can you be so sure?" asked the chairman.
"Because our ladies' maid is still walking out with her second footman."
The rest of the board laughed, but all the chairman volunteered was, "Not again. First the flats, now this. When will it end?"
"Not until she's dead and buried, I suspect," said Charlie.
"Perhaps not even then," added Becky.
"If you're referring to the son," said the colonel, "I doubt if he can cause too much trouble from twelve thousand miles away. But as for the mother, hell hath no fury—" he said testily.
"Commonly misquoted," said Charlie.
"What's that?" asked the chairman.
"Congreve, Colonel. The lines run, 'Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.'" The colonel's mouth remained open but he was speechless. "However," Charlie continued "more to the point, I need to know what is the limit the board will allow me to bid for Number 1."
"I consider five thousand may well prove necessary given the circumstances," said Becky.
"But no more," said Hadlow, studying the balance sheet in front of him.
"Perhaps one bid over?" suggested Becky.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand," said Hadlow. "What does 'one bid over' mean?"
"Bids never go to the exact figure you anticipate Mr. Hadlow. Most people who attend an auction usually have a set figure in their minds which inevitably ends in round numbers, so if you go one above that figure you often end up securing the lot."
Even Charlie nodded, as Hadlow said in admiration, "Then I agree to one bid over."
"May I also suggest," said the colonel, "that Mrs. Trumper should carry out the bidding, because with her experience—"
"That's kind of you, colonel, but I shall nevertheless need the help of my husband," said Becky with a smile. "And, in fact, the whole board's, come to that. You see I have already formulated a plan." She proceeded to brief her colleagues on what she had in mind.
"What fun," said the colonel when she had finished. "But will I also be allowed to attend the proceedings?"
"Oh, yes," said Becky. "All of you must be present, and, with the exception of Charlie and myself, you ought to be seated silently in the row directly behind Mrs. Trentham a few minutes before the auction is due to commence."
"Bloody woman," said the colonel, before adding hastily, "I do apologize."
"True. But, more important, we must never forget that she is also an amateur," Becky added.
"What's the significance of that statement?" asked Hadlow.
"Sometimes amateurs get carried away by the occasion, and when that happens the professionals have no chance because the amateur often ends up going one bid too far. We must remember that it may well be the first auction Mrs. Trentham has ever placed a bid at, even attended, and as she wants the premises every bit as much as we do, and has the advantage of superior resources, we will have to secure the lot by sheer cunning." No one seemed to disagree with this assessment.
Once the board meeting was over Becky took Charlie through her plan for the forthcoming auction in greater detail, and even made him attend Sotheby's one morning with orders to bid for three pieces of Dutch silver. He carried out his wife's instructions but ended up with a Georgian mustard pot he had never intended to buy in the first place.
"No better way of learning," Becky assured him. "Just be thankful that it wasn't a Rembrandt you were bidding for."
She continued to explain to Charlie the subtleties of auctions over dinner that night in far greater detail than she had with the board. Charlie learned that there were different signs you could give the auctioneer, so that rivals remained unaware that you were still bidding, while at the same time you could discover who was bidding against you.
"But isn't Mrs. Trentham bound to spot you?" said Charlie after he had cut his wife a slice of bread. "After all, you'll be the only two left bidding by that stage."
"Not if you've already put her off balance before I enter the fray," said Becky.
"But the board agreed that you—"
"That I should be allowed to go one bid over five thousand."
"But—"
"No buts, Charlie," said Becky as she served her husband up another portion of Irish stew. "On the morning of the auction I want you on parade, dressed in your best suit and sitting in the seventh row on the gangway looking very pleased with yourself. You will then proceed to bid ostentatiously up to one over three thousand pounds. When Mrs. Trentham goes to the next bid, as undoubtedly she will, you must stand up and flounce out of the room, looking defeated, while I continue the bidding in your absence."
"Not bad," said Charlie as he put his fork into a couple of peas. "But surely Mrs. Trentham will work out exactly what you're up to?"
"Not a chance," said Becky. "Because I will have an agreed code with the auctioneer that she could never hope to spot, let alone to decipher."
"But will I understand what you are up to?"
"Oh, yes," said Becky, "because you'll know exactly what I'm doing when I use the glasses ploy."
"The glasses ploy? But you don't even wear glasses."
"I will be on the day of the auction, and when I'm wearing them you'll know I'm still bidding. If I take them off, I've finished bidding. So when you leave the room all the auctioneer will see when he looks in my direction is that I still have my glasses on. Mrs. Trentham will think you've gone, and will, I suspect, be quite happy to let someone else continue with the bidding so long as she's confident they don't represent you."
"You're a gem, Mrs. Trumper," said Charlie as he rose to clear away the plates. "But what if she sees you chatting to the auctioneer or, worse, finds out your code even before Mr. Fothergill calls for the first bid?"
"She can't," said Becky. "I'll agree on the code with Fothergill only minutes before the auction begins. In any case, it will be at that moment that you will make a grand entrance, and then only seconds after the other members of the board have taken their seats directly behind Mrs. Trentham, so with a bit of luck she'll be so distracted by everything that's going on around her that she won't even notice me."
"I married a very clever girl," said Charlie.
"You never admitted as much when we were at Jubilee Street Elementary."
On the morning of the auction, Charlie confessed over breakfast that he was very nervous, despite Becky's appearing to be remarkably calm, especially after Joan had informed her mistress that the second footman had heard from the cook that Mrs. Trentham had placed a limit of four thousand pounds on her bidding.
"I just wonder . . ." said Charlie.
"Whether she planted the sum in the cook's mind?" said Becky. "It's possible. After all, she's every bit as cunning as you are. But as long as we stick to our agreed plan―and remember everyone, even Mrs. Trentham, has a limit―we can still beat her."
The auction was advertised to begin at ten A.M. A full twenty minutes before the bidding was due to commence Mrs. Trentham entered the room and swept regally down the aisle. She took her place in the center of the third row, and placed her handbag on one seat and a catalogue on the other to be certain that no one sat next to her. The colonel and his two colleagues entered the half-filled room at nine-fifty A.M. and, as instructed, filed into the seats immediately behind their adversary. Mrs. Trentham appeared to show no interest in their presence. Five minutes later Charlie made his entrance. He strolled down the center aisle, raised his hat to a lady he recognized, shook hands with one of his regular customers and finally took his place on the gangway at the end of the seventh row. He continued to chat noisily with his next-door neighbor about England's cricket tour of Australia explaining once again that he was not related to the great Australian batsman whose name he bore. The minute hand on the grandfather clock behind the auctioneer's box moved slowly towards the appointed hour.