The salesman had mounted upon a chair, and his keen, clean-shaven face overlooked the crowd.  Mr. Jack Flynn’s grey whiskers were at his elbow, and Mr. Holloway immediately in front.

“You’ve seen these horses, gentlemen,” said the salesman, with a backward sweep of his hand towards the line of tossing heads and streaming manes.  “When you know that they are bred by Mr. Jack Flynn, at his place in Kildare, you will have a guarantee of their quality.  They are the best that Ireland can produce, and in this class of horse the best that Ireland can produce are the best in the world, as every riding man knows well.  Hunters or carriage horses, all warranted sound, and bred from the best stock.  There are seventy in Mr. Jack Flynn’s string, and he bids me say that if any wholesale dealer would make one bid for the whole lot, to save time, he would have the preference over any purchaser.”

There was a pause and a whisper from the crowd in front, with some expressions of discontent.  By a single sweep all the small dealers had been put out of it.  It was only a long purse which could buy on such a scale as that.  The salesman looked round him inquiringly.

“Come, Mr. Holloway,” said he, at last.  “You didn’t come over here for the sake of the scenery.  You may travel the country and not see such another string of horses.  Give us a starting bid.”

The great dealer was still rattling his pencil upon his front teeth.  “Well,” said he, at last, “they are a fine lot of horses, and I won’t deny it.  They do you credit, Mr. Flynn, I am sure.  All the same I didn’t mean to fill a ship at a single bid in this fashion.  I like to pick and choose my horses.”

“In that case Mr. Flynn is quite prepared to sell them in smaller lots,” said the salesman.  “It was rather for the convenience of a wholesale customer that he was prepared to put them all up together.  But if no gentleman wishes to bid—­”

“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.”

“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. Strellenhaus has offered twenty pounds a head.”

“Guineas,” said Holloway.

“Bravo, Mr. Holloway!  I knew that you would take a hand.  You are not the man to let such a string of horses pass away from you.  The bid is twenty guineas a head.”