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

wasn’t going to have any influence on the bidding. ‘If
there are no further bids, I shall have to withdraw this lot and place it in the afternoon sale. Fair warning,’ declared Mr Botts. As he raised his hammer, Elizabeth’s catalogue
suddenly shot up.
    ‘One hundred and ten thousand. Thank you, madam. Are there any more bids? Then I shall let this fine piece go for PS110,000.’ He brought down his hammer and smiled at Elizabeth.
‘Congratulations, madam, it is indeed a magnificent example of the period.’ She smiled weakly back, a look of uncertainty on her face.
    Cornelius turned round and winked at Frank, who remained impassively in his seat. He then rose from his place and made his way to the podium to thank Mr Botts for a job well done. As he turned
to leave, he smiled at Margaret and Elizabeth, but neither acknowledged him, as they both seemed to be preoccupied. Hugh, head in hands, continued to stare down at the floor.
    As Cornelius walked towards the back of the hall, he could see no sign of Timothy, and assumed that his nephew must have had to return to London. Cornelius was disappointed, as he had hoped the
lad might join him for a pub lunch. After such a successful morning he felt a little celebrating was in order.
    He had already decided that he wasn’t going to attend the afternoon sale, as he had no desire to witness his worldly goods coming under the hammer, even though he wouldn’t have room
for most of them once he moved into a smaller house. Mr Botts had promised to call him the moment the sale was over and report how much the auction had raised.
    Having enjoyed the best meal since Pauline had left him, Cornelius began his journey back from the pub to The Willows. He knew exactly what time the bus would appear to take him home, and
arrived at the bus stop with a couple of minutes to spare. He now took it for granted that people would avoid his company.
    Cornelius unlocked the front door as the clock on the nearby church struck three. He was looking forward to the inevitable fall-out when it sank in to Margaret and Elizabeth how much they had
really bid. He grinned as he headed towards his study and glanced at his watch, wondering when he might expect a call from Mr Botts. The phone began to ring just as he entered the room. He chuckled
to himself. It was too early for Mr Botts, so it had to be Elizabeth or Margaret, who would need to see him urgently. He picked up the phone to hear Frank’s voice on the other end of the
line.
    ‘Did you remember to withdraw the chess set from the afternoon sale?’ Frank asked, without bothering with any formalities.
    ‘What are you talking about?’ said Cornelius.
    ‘Your beloved chess set. Have you forgotten that as it failed to sell this morning, it will automatically come up in the afternoon sale? Unless of course you’ve already given orders
to withdraw it, or tipped off Mr Botts about its true value.’
    ‘Oh my God,’ said Cornelius. He dropped the phone and ran back out of the door, so he didn’t hear Frank say, ‘I’m sure a telephone call to Mr Botts’s
assistant is all that will be needed.’
    Cornelius checked his watch as he ran down the path. It was ten past three, so the auction would have only just begun. Running towards the bus stop, he tried to recall what lot number the chess
set was. All he could remember was that there were 153 lots in the sale.
    Standing at the bus stop, hopping impatiently from foot to foot, he scanned the road in the hope of hailing a passing taxi, when to his relief he saw a bus heading towards him. Although his eyes
never left the driver, that didn’t make him go any faster.
    When it eventually drew up beside him and the doors opened, Cornelius leapt on and took his place on the front seat. He wanted to tell the driver to take him straight to Botts and Co. in the
High Street, and to hell with the fare, but he doubted if the other passengers would have fallen in with his plan.
    He stared at his