"Well, let us hope he will do as well a week hence," Carne replied simply, as he replaced his glasses in their case. "Amen to that," remarked Lord Orpington. "And now, gentlemen," said the trainer, "if you will allow me, I will drive you over to my place to breakfast." They took their places in the carriage once more, and Bent having taken the reins, in a few moments they were bowling along the high-road towards a neat modern residence standing on a slight eminence on the edge of the Downs. This was the trainer’s own place of abode, the stables containing his many precious charges lying a hundred yards or so to the rear. They were received on the threshold by the trainer’s wife, who welcomed them most heartily to Merford. The keen air of the Downs had sharpened their appetites, and when they sat down to table they found they were able to do full justice to the excellent fare provided for them. The meal at an end, they inspected the stables, once more carefully examining the Derby candidate, who seemed none the worse for his morning’s exertion, and then Carne left his guests in the big yard to the enjoyment of their cigars, while he accompanied his trainer into the house for a few moments’ chat. "And now sit down, sir," said Bent, when they reached his own sanctum, a cosy apartment, half sitting-room and half office, bearing upon its walls innumerable mementoes of circumstances connected with the owner’s lengthy turf experiences. "I hope you are satisfied, with what you saw this morning?" "Perfectly satisfied," said Carne, "but I should like to hear exactly what you think about the race itself." "Well, sir, as you may imagine I have been thinking a good deal about it lately, and this the conclusion I have come to. If this were an ordinary year, I should say that we possess out and away the best horse in the race; but we must remember that this is not by any means an ordinary year--there’s Vulcanite, who they tell me is in the very pink of condition, and who has beaten our horse each time they have met; there’s the Mandarin, who won the Two Thousand this week, and who will be certain to come into greater favor as the time shortens, and The Filibuster who won the Biennial Stakes at the Craven Meeting, a nice enough horse, though I must say I don’t fancy him over-much myself." "I take it, then, that the only horse you really fear is Vulcanite?" "That’s so, sir. If he were not in the list, I should feel as certain of seeing you leading your horse back a winner as any man could well be." On looking at his watch Carne discovered that it was time for him to rejoin his friends and be off to the railway station if they desired to catch the train which they had arranged should convey them back to town. So bidding the trainer and his wife goodbye, they took their places in the carriage once more, and were driven away. Arriving at Waterloo, they drove to Lord Orpington’s club.