The package Bart tendered was thin and flat. Two tough pieces of
cardboard held it stiff and straight. It seemed to contain papers of
some kind, and so many bidders had bought old deeds, contracts, plans,
manuscripts and the like, utterly valueless to them, that the lot hung
at twenty-five cents for several minutes.
"Come, come, gentlemen!" urged Bart--"the last may be the best. The
charges are sixty-five cents. Sender's name not given. Directed to 'A.A.
Adams, Pleasantville'--not found."
"Hoo! S--s--say!"
Bart experienced something of a shock.
The familiar cry of the ex-roustabout, Mr. Baker, rang out sharp and
sudden.
Glancing at him, Bart saw that he had arisen to his feet.
His face was bloodless and twitching, his whole frame a-quake. His eyes
were snapping wildly. He was like a man who could hardly speak or stand,
and fairly on the verge of a fit.
A wavering finger he pointed at the young auctioneer, and gasped out.
"One dollar--two--three!"
CHAPTER XXIV
MR. BAKER'S BID
The attitude, actions and announcement of the mysterious Mr. Baker
filled Bart Stirling with profound surprise and wonderment.
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