“Do I see fifty? Fifty, thank you. Fifty-two?”

The formal quiet and the auctioneer’s drone stretched a placid surface across the room. All that could be seen was slow and purposeful, apparently calm. But a tension was growing between the two bidders, like monsters beneath the surface sensing each other and edging into battle.

“Fifty-two. Do I see fifty-four?”

He did immediately.

“Fifty-four. The bid is fifty-four thousand dollars. Do I see fifty-six?”

“Fifty-six. Do I see fifty-eight?”

“Somebody’s going to hit their limit,” Norman said. “Fifty-eight grand! That’s twice what it’s worth.”

“Do I see sixty?”

The blond woman’s impudence was finally getting to the man from New York. He waved his paddle defiantly. It was, in the depths, a first ripping by sharp teeth; anger had been provoked.

“Thank you. The bid is sixty thousand. Do I see sixty-five? Sixty-five, thank you.”

“Do you know who she is?” Charles said.

“I’ve never seen her.”

“Sev-en-ty-five.” Mr. Einstein had spoken it aloud, each syllable a separate word.

“Seventy-five. Do I see eighty?”

The woman’s paddle jerked.

“Eighty. The bid is eighty thousand. Do I see eighty-five?”

“One hun-dred,” Einstein said. The room gasped, every person, at the three distinct syllables.

“One hundred thousand dollars. Do I see one hundred five?”

Without hesitation, the woman thrust her paddle straight up, and through.

The man set his paddle under his chair.

It was over, suddenly. A leviathan had been vanquished and now sank away into ultimate deeps.

“One hundred five thousand. Do I see one hundred ten?”