Jonathon Wart and The Hand of Doom

  Chapter Seven: The Grand Deception (Part 2)

  Two days later, Jonathon and Lizzie walked slowly into a large, luxurious-looking meeting room in one of Philadelphia's fanciest hotels. It was the day of the big auction and some of Diggersby’s painting lined the walls, an attempt by the auctioneers to stir up interest.

  Jonathon was still taking in the room when Emma approached him, a big smile on her face.

  "So this is the place?" she said cheerfully. "Pretty fancy, I must admit, considering that Diggersby wasn't much of an artist.”

  “No, I suppose not," replied Jonathon, "but don't forget that Diggersby also owned a lot of famous paintings by major artists and some of those will be auctioned off today as well."

  Lizzie sighed. "How long before ‘The Hand of Doom' is up for sale? That's the only one you’re going to bid on, right Jonathon?"

  "Right, but don't forget the other part of our plan, Lizzie. I need you to bid on that other painting, ‘The Acorn Rising.’ And don't forget to wear that veil that Emma gave you. I don't want anyone, especially Thumbs or Felicia, to recognize you.”

  “Actually,” said Emma, “I think you look pretty cute in that outfit…the long black dress and veil…no one would ever know it was you.”

  Lizzie groaned. "But veils are really dumb. Who wears a veil? Nobody's worn them for a hundred years!"

  "Doesn't matter," said Jonathon. “The plan is for you to look like a young heiress in disguise who's bidding on this fascinating painting. Thumbs will be bidding against you for the painting because he'll figure it must be valuable or I wouldn't be interested in it.”

  "But you’re not even going to be there and I don't have any money, Jonathon. What if I win the bid?”

  “You won't win it. Just bid the price up as high as you can and when Thumbs seems to be slowing down, you drop out.”

  Lizzie rolled her eyes. “I’m really not at all sure about this.”

  “You don’t have to be. You’ll be fine. Remember, you don’t even have to speak.”

  Jonathon handed Lizzie a placard with a small handle on it. "Here's your bidding card. You're bidder no. 12. Every time you want to raise the bid, you just flash your card so that the auctioneer can see it. Good luck and be sure to keep that veil covering your face so no one recognizes you.”

  Emma patted Lizzie supportively on the back. “You’ll be great, Lizzie. Jonathon’s schemes almost always work.”

  Lizzie gave Emma a pained look.

  “Well, they sometimes work,” said Emma. “And besides, look at all this! This is really exciting!”

  “Have you ever been to an auction before, Emma?” asked Jonathon.

  “Nothing this fancy,” Emma replied, taking in all the paintings on the wall. “Nothing with so many famous paintings that are going to go for big bucks.”

  Jonathon nodded. “I noticed that one of the famous paintings supposedly in Diggersby’s collection isn’t listed in the catalogue to be auctioned off today.”

  “Oh, really?” Emma said. “Something you expected to see?”

  “Well, I didn’t completely expect it. It was a little known painting by Constable.”

  “Constable? The English painter you were so interested in at the Art Institute the other day?”

  “Right.”

  “Even a little known painting by Constable has got to be worth a fortune, doesn’t it?”

  “Absolutely, but we’re apparently not going to get a chance to see it in this auction.”

  “I guess not.” Emma paused for a moment, glaring intently into Jonathon’s face. “Jonathon, did you know about this in advance?”

  Jonathon smiled coyly. “I wasn’t sure, of course, but it all fits into my theory.”

  “Which is?”

  “Can’t quite explain it yet, Emma. There are too many loose ends. As soon as I’m sure I’m right, I’ll let you know.”

  Emma glanced quickly around the room as a number of people began to file in. “I think they’ll be starting soon.”

  “Right!” said Jonathon cheerfully. “Time for you and me to disappear, Emma. Lizzie, you’re on your own.”

  Lizzie moaned quietly. “Why can’t you be the one to bid on this stupid ‘Acorn’ painting?”

  “Because I’ve only got a one thousand dollar limit, and I’m hoping you can drive up the price much higher than that.”

  “And you’re sure that Mr. Thumbs will bid on it?” said Lizzie.

  “I’m positive,” said Jonathon confidently. “I’m sure we’ve got him convinced that ‘The Acorn Rises’ is the painting I really want and so he’ll do everything he can to make sure he gets it for himself.”

  “If you say so,” said Lizzie.

  “Have fun!” said Jonathon cheerily as he and Emma turned to go.

  Almost half an hour later, the room was almost full with people quickly finding their seats. Mr. Thumbs, wearing a ridiculous blond wig, and Felicia snuck in quietly and took the last seats available in the back of the room.

  “So where’s Jonathon?” asked Felicia, pulling on Thumbs’ sleeve. “I don’t see him, but I thought this painting was very important to him.”

  Thumbs scanned the seated crowd quickly. “I don’t see him either but he must be here somewhere. I’m sure he won’t miss his big chance.”

  “So how much are you going to bid?” asked Felicia.

  “That’s the beauty of it, Felicia. I only approved Jonathon to bid for one thousand dollars when I thought he was going to bid on that other stupid painting, ‘The Hand of Doom.’ Since all he’s got to spend is a thousand bucks, it’ll be easy to outbid him for this one. I won’t have to spend more than maybe a couple of thousand.”

  “What if somebody else bids on it?”

  “Nobody else is going to bid on it, Felicia. I’ve seen a photograph of it. It’s almost as ugly as ‘The Hand of Doom’ painting.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do say so. Just sit back and relax. I’ll outbid Jonathon for the painting and he won’t even know I’m doing it thanks to this great wig I found.”

  Felicia looked worried. “I don’t know about that wig, Thumbsie. I think you just look scary.”

  “Fine,” said Mr. Thumbs. “Then people will be too scared to bid against me. In the meantime, Felicia, I want you to squish down in your seat a little. I don’t want Jonathon to recognize you.”

  “If he’s here.”

  “Of course he’ll be here. He thinks the painting is very valuable.”

  Minutes later the auction began, the auctioneer announcing that the first works of art to be auctioned would be the handful of paintings done by Mr. Diggersby himself. Since most members of the audience had come to bid on the more famous paintings to be auctioned later, there wasn’t much enthusiasm for the early works and the first three paintings by Diggersby sold quickly for only a few hundred dollars each.

  Finally, ‘The Acorn Rises’ was brought up to the auctioneer’s table and bidding on it began.

  “And what am I offered for this excellent work by Mr. Diggersby himself?” chanted the auctioneer. “There is no question that this is among the finest of the Diggersby originals. I’m going to start the bidding at five hundred dollars. May I have an opening bid?”

  There was complete silence in the room for almost thirty seconds when Lizzie slowly raised her bidding card and shook it slightly.

  “That will be a bid of five hundred dollars by the…lady…in the veil,” said the auctioneer.

  “Huh?” whispered Felicia urgently to Thumbs. “Who is that bidding? I can’t really see anyone up there.”

  Thumbs frowned. “I don’t know who it is. It looks like some eccentric little old lady from here but I can’t be sure.”

  “But where’s Jonathon? I thought you said this painting was very valuable to him.”

  “I don’t know where the little imbecile is! Maybe he forgot what day the auction was! Maybe he couldn’t get a cab here! How would I know? But I’ll tell you one thin
g…I’m not going to let this chance of a lifetime get away from me. I’ve got to have that horrible painting!”

  “Oh, brother!” Felicia moaned. “I don’t know about this.”

  “I have five hundred dollars,” said the auctioneer. “Do I hear one thousand?”

  Mr. Thumbs wagged his card violently.

  “Ah, yes. A bid of one thousand dollars from the…gentleman in the back row.”

  For the next several minutes the bids flew back and forth between Lizzie (in disguise) and Mr. Thumbs (in a terrible disguise). Before either of them knew it, the top bid had risen to eight thousand five hundred dollars.

  Felicia grabbed Thumbs’ arm just as he was about to raise his bid to nine thousand dollars.

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this!” she gasped. “You said the bidding would only get up to a couple of thousand dollars. It’s going be up to nine thousand if you bid again!”

  “But I’ve got to…I’ve got to,” exclaimed Thumbs frantically. “Jonathon really wants this painting so it must be worth a fortune.”

  “But he’s not even bidding on it! Who is that strange lady who keeps driving the price up? I can’t quite see her. But whoever it is, Thumbsie, I think this is a big mistake!”

  “But Jonathon…”

  “He’s playing you again, you fool! Can’t you see?”

  “No! No! It’s impossible! Jonathon’s not that smart. It can’t be!”

  Meanwhile, Lizzie was sweating bullets as the price of the painting surged higher and higher.

  “This is ridiculous,” she murmured to herself. “How am I supposed to know when Thumbs is going to stop bidding? What if he stops now? I don’t have eight thousand five hundred dollars!”

  But Thumbs didn’t stop. He wrestled his arm free from Felicia’s grasp and launched it into the air.

  The auctioneer beamed his approval. “Indeed!” he chirped. “Our top bid is now nine thousand dollars!”

  “That’s it!” said Lizzie. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m done!”

  But as Lizzie looked up to see what was going to happen next, she caught a glimpse of Jonathon, standing in a far corner, with a hoodie half-covering a face. Jonathon was gesturing wildly—higher! Higher!

  Lizzie gulped. “Here goes nothing!” she leaped up, thrusting her bidding card into the air. But her veil had become disconnected and her face was now exposed. She gasped, and then immediately put her hands in front of her face, while sinking back into her seat.

  “Yes!” bellowed the auctioneer. “We have a bid for nine thousand five hundred dollars!”

  Mr. Thumbs paused, staring at Lizzie as she fell back into her seat. “What’s wrong with that woman? Is she crazy? Why is she covering her face? Does she have some sort of disfigurement?”

  “Who cares?” roared Felicia as she jumped to her feet. “Whoever it is, let her have the stupid painting! It’s too expensive, it’s too…”

  But it was too late. Thumbs had also leaped to his feet and was waving his bidding card frantically.

  “Yes!” hissed the auctioneer. “We have a bid for ten thousand dollars! Are there any further bids?”

  Lizzie was meanwhile slinking away from her seat, still trying to cover her face with her hands.

  “No further bids?” said the auctioneer eagerly. “Going once, going twice, sold to the gentleman in the back row.”

  For a few seconds Mr. Thumbs seemed shocked into immobility. Then a broad smile spread over his face.

  “I’ve done it! “I’ve done it!” he shouted.

  “Yes,” said Felicia sadly, “you’ve done it, alright, and now you’re going to regret it.”

  But Thumbs was overjoyed. He quickly went over to a side table to write a check for the painting before clutching it in both hands. “I’ve got it!” he yelped. “I’ve got the painting that Jonathon wanted!”

  Felicia merely shook her head sadly and followed the triumphant Thumbs out of the room.

  About twenty minutes later, ‘The Hand of Doom’ came up for auction with Jonathon sitting in the front row. He was the only one to bid on the painting and paid only five hundred dollars for it.

  “And that, my friends,” he said enthusiastically to Lizzie and Emma, who had come to stand by his side after the bidding was complete, “is the first big step in my plan.”