"Three thousand," said Jim. "And fifty," said Bellairs. And then the bidding returned to its original movement by hundreds and fifties; but I had been able in the meanwhile to draw two conclusions. In the first place, Bellairs had made his last advance with a smile of gratified vanity, and I could see the creature was glorying in the _kudos_ of an unusual position and secure of ultimate success. In the second, Trent had once more changed colour at the thousand leap, and his relief when he heard the answering fifty was manifest and unaffected. Here, then, was a problem: both were presumably in the same interest, yet the one was not in the confidence of the other. Nor was this all. A few bids later it chanced that my eye encountered that of Captain Trent, and his, which glittered with excitement, was instantly, and I thought guiltily, withdrawn. He wished, then, to conceal his interest? As Jim had said, there was some blamed thing going on. And for certain here were these two men, so strangely united, so strangely divided, both sharp-set to keep the wreck from us, and that at an exorbitant figure. Was the wreck worth more than we supposed? A sudden heat was kindled in my brain; the bids were nearing Longhurst's limit of five thousand; another minute and all would be too late. Tearing a leaf from my sketch-book, and inspired (I suppose) by vanity in my own powers of inference and observation, I took the one mad decision of my life. "If you care to go ahead," I wrote, "I'm in for all I'm worth." Jim read and looked round at me like one bewildered; then his eyes lightened, and turning again to the auctioneer he bid, "Five thousand one hundred dollars." "And fifty," said monotonous Bellairs. Presently Pinkerton scribbled, "What can it be?" and I answered, still on paper: "I can't imagine, but there's something. Watch Bellairs; he'll go up to the ten thousand, see if he don't." And he did, and we followed. Long before this word had gone abroad that there was battle royal. We were surrounded by a crowd that looked on wondering, and when Pinkerton had offered ten thousand dollars (the outside value of the cargo, even were it safe in San Francisco Bay) and Bellairs, smirking from ear to ear to be the centre of so much attention, had jerked out his answering "And fifty," wonder deepened to excitement. "Ten thousand one hundred," said Jim; and even as he spoke he made a sudden gesture with his hand, his face changed, and I could see that he had guessed, or thought that he had guessed, the mystery. As he scrawled another memorandum in his note-book, his hand shook like a telegraph operator's. "Chinese ship," ran the legend; and then in big, tremulous half-text, and with a flourish that overran the margin, "Opium!"