To Cut a Long Story Short (2000) by Jeffrey Archer

if the room were so crowded that she needed to make herself heard above the din.
    ‘I have a bid of five thousand at the table - will you bid six, madam?’ he asked, returning his attention to the lady in the front row.
    ‘I will,’ said Margaret equally firmly.
    ‘Are there any other bids?’ demanded the auctioneer, glancing around the room - a sure sign that the bids at the table had dried up. ‘Then I’m going to let this
picture go for PS6,000 to the lady in the front row.’
    ‘Seven,’ said a voice behind her. Margaret looked round to see that her sister-in-law had joined in the bidding.
    ‘Eight thousand!’ shouted Margaret.
    ‘Nine,’ said Elizabeth without hesitation.
    ‘Ten thousand!’ bellowed Margaret.
    Suddenly there was silence. Cornelius glanced across the room to see a smile of satisfaction cross Elizabeth’s face, having left her sister-in-law with a bill for PS10,000.
    Cornelius wanted to burst out laughing. The auction was turning out to be even more entertaining than he could have hoped.
    ‘There being no more bids, this delightful water-colour is sold to Miss Barrington for PS10,000,’ said Mr Botts as he brought the hammer down with a thump. He smiled down at
Margaret, as if she had made a wise investment.
    ‘The next lot,’ he continued, ‘is a portrait simply entitled Daniel , by an unknown artist. It is a well-executed work, and I was hoping to open the bidding at
PS100. Do I see a bid of one hundred?’
    To Cornelius’s disappointment, no one in the room seemed to be showing any interest in this lot.
    ‘I am willing to consider a bid of PS50 to get things started,’ said Mr Botts, ‘but I am unable to go any lower. Will anyone bid me PS50?’
    Cornelius glanced around the room, trying to work out from the expressions on their faces who had selected this item, and why they no longer wished to bid when the price was so reasonable.
    ‘Then I fear I will have to withdraw this lot as well.’
    ‘Does that mean I’ve got it?’ asked a voice from the back. Everyone looked round.
    ‘If you are willing to bid PS50, madam,’ said Mr Botts, adjusting his spectacles, ‘the picture is yours.’
    ‘Yes please,’ said Pauline. Mr Botts smiled in her direction as he brought down the hammer. ‘Sold to the lady at the back of the room,’ he declared, ‘for
PS50.’
    ‘Now I move on to lot number four, a chess set of unknown provenance. What shall I say for this item? Can I start someone off with PS100? Thank you, sir.’
    Cornelius looked round to see who was bidding. ‘I have two hundred at the table. Can I say three hundred?’
    Timothy nodded.
    ‘I have a bid at the table of three fifty. Can I say four hundred?’
    This time Timothy looked crestfallen, and Cornelius assumed the sum was beyond his limit. ‘Then I am going to have to withdraw this piece also and place it in this afternoon’s
sale.’ The auctioneer stared at Timothy, but he didn’t even blink. ‘The item is withdrawn.’
    ‘And finally I turn to lot number five. A magnificent Louis XIV table, circa 1712, in almost mint condition. Its provenance can be traced back to its original owner, and it has been in the
possession of Mr Barrington for the past eleven years. The full details are in your catalogue. I must warn you that there has been a lot of interest in this item, and I shall open the bidding at
PS50,000.’
    Elizabeth immediately raised her catalogue above her head.
    ‘Thank you, madam. I have a bid at the table of sixty thousand. Do I see seventy?’ he asked, his eyes fixed on Elizabeth.
    Her catalogue shot up again.
    ‘Thank you, madam. I have a bid at the table of eighty thousand. Do I see ninety?’ This time Elizabeth seemed to hesitate before raising her catalogue slowly.
    ‘I have a bid at the table of one hundred thousand. Do I see a hundred and ten?’
    Everyone in the room was now looking towards Elizabeth, except Hugh, who, head down, was staring at the floor. He obviously