The Dark Lady

silence, and then Rayburn nodded to one of the auctioneer's spotters.
    “I have a bid of twenty thousand from the Claiborne Galleries,” announced the auctioneer. “Will anyone make it twenty-five?” He looked around the room. “Twenty-five thousand?” He waited another half minute. “Last call for bids,” he announced. “Will anyone say twenty-five thousand?”
    Suddenly he smiled at someone on the other side of the room.
    “I have twenty-five thousand from Malcolm Abercrombie,” he announced. “Will anyone say thirty?”
    Rayburn nodded.
    “I have thirty. Do I hear thirty-five?”
    I looked across the room and saw a white-haired gentleman with thick, bushy eyebrows and deep age lines in his face hold up four thin fingers and then make a fist. The liver spots on his hand stood out even more than the plain platinum ring he wore.
    “Who is he, Great Lady?” I asked Tai Chong.
    “That's Malcolm Abercrombie,” she replied.
    “With which gallery is he associated?” I asked. “His name is unfamiliar to me.”
    “He's a collector,” she replied. “I don't know much about him, except that he lives here on Far London and is said to be a bit of a recluse.”
    “Mr. Abercrombie bids forty thousand.” The auctioneer turned back to Rayburn. “Do I hear fifty?”
    Rayburn paused for a long moment, then nodded almost imperceptibly.
    “I have fifty thousand. Do I hear another bid?”
    Abercrombie held up five fingers, then made a fist and stuck out his index finger.
    The auctioneer stared at him for a moment, puzzled. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Abercrombie,” he said at last, “but is that fifty-one or sixty?”
    “Take your choice,” said Abercrombie in a loud, rasping voice, and a number of the people in the crowd laughed.
    “I really cannot do that, sir,” said the auctioneer uneasily. “Will you please state your bid?”
    “Sixty,” replied Abercrombie to a round of spontaneous applause.
    “I have sixty thousand credits,” said the auctioneer, looking straight at Rayburn. “Do I hear more?”
    “That's the limit?” he asked me in a low voice.
    “As an investment property, Friend Hector,” I answered.
    He paused again, then looked back at the auctioneer and shook his head.
    “Do I hear sixty-five thousand?” asked the auctioneer, scanning the crowd without much hope for signs of interest. “Last call for bids.”
    “Seventy-five,” said a voice at the back of the room, and everyone turned to see who the new bidder might be.
    “I have a bid of seventy-five thousand credits from Reuben Venzia,” said the auctioneer, and a small, olive-skinned man possessed of a large black mustache and a nervous manner nodded his head to confirm the bid.
    “Who the hell is he ?” asked Rayburn.
    Tai Chong whispered something to the woman standing next to her, who in turn whispered back.
    “He's a very successful businessman from Declan IV.”
    “Another collector?” asked Rayburn.
    Tai Chong consulted with the woman again. “He recently bought an art gallery in the Daedalus system,” she said to Rayburn.
    “He's not going to last very long if he overbids by twenty percent,” said Rayburn. “Who the hell does he think is going to buy it for what he'll have to ask?”
    “I have 100,000 from Malcolm Abercrombie,” announced the auctioneer.
    “Maybe he plans to sell it to Mr. Abercrombie,” said Tai Chong wryly.
    Venzia made a swift gesture.
    “The bid is 125,000 credits, from Mr. Venzia.”
    Rayburn turned to me.
    “What's going on here?” he demanded. “I thought you told me that it would bring between fifty and sixty.”
    “That's what it should have brought, Friend Hector,” I replied, my color reflecting the Hue of Bewilderment. “I am at a loss to explain what is happening.”
    I still had no explanation two minutes later, when the bidding reached 300,000 credits.
    “It's just not that good a painting!” muttered Rayburn, obviously confused.
    “Leonardo,” said Tai Chong, “what can you tell me about this Kilcullen?”
    “I have never heard of him before tonight, Great Lady,” I answered.
    “And if he lived in the Albion Cluster and his work was worth 300,000 credits, you would have?”
    “Without question,” I replied.
    “Curiouser and curiouser,” she murmured as Abercrombie bid 375,000 credits.
    “Do I hear 400,000?” asked the auctioneer.
    Venzia nodded, and an instant later a well-dressed young woman came over to the auctioneer and whispered something to