“If you had n't been in this uncommon high style tonight,” said Grog, quietly, “I'd have told you some excellent reasons for what I was advising. I got a letter from Spicer this morning. He, and a foreign fellow he calls Count Lienstahl,--it sounds devilish like 'lie and steal,' don't it?--have got a very pretty plant together, and if they could only chance upon a good second-rate horse, they reckon about eight or ten hundred in stakes alone this coming spring. They offer me a share if I could come out to them, and mean to open the campaign at Brussels. Now, there's a thing to suit us all,--'picking for every one,' as they say in the oakum-sheds.” “Cochin China might be had for five hundred; or there's Spotted Snake, they want to sell him for anything he'll bring,” said Beecher, with animation. “They could manage five hundred at least, Spicer says. We 're good for about twelve thousand francs, which ought to get us what we're looking for.” “There's Anchovy Paste--” “Broke down before and behind.” “Hop the Twig, own sister to Levanter; ran second for the Colchester Cup--” “Mares don't answer abroad.” “Well, what do you say to Mumps?” “There's the horse for the Continent. A great heavy-headed, thick-jawed beast, with lazy action, and capped hocks. He's the animal to walk into a foreign jockey club. Oh, if we had him!” “I know where he is!” exclaimed Beecher, in ecstasy. “There 's a Brummagem fellow driving him through Wales,--a bagman,--and he takes him a turn now and then for the county stakes that offer. I 'll lay my head on't we get him for fifty pounds.” “Come, old fellow,” said Grog, encouragingly, “you _have_ your wits about you, after all. Breakfast here to-morrow, about twelve o'clock, and we 'll see if we can't arrange the whole affair. It's a sure five hundred apiece, as if we had it here;” and he slapped his pockets as he spoke. Beecher shook his friend's hand with a warmth that showed all his wonted cordiality, and with a hearty “Good-night!” they separated. Grog had managed cleverly. He had done something by terror, and the rest he had accomplished by temptation. They were the two only impulses to sway that strange temperament. CHAPTER XXI. A DARK DAY It was the day appointed for the sale of Kellett's Court, and a considerable crowd was assembled to witness the proceeding. Property was rapidly changing hands; new names were springing up in every county, and old ones were growing obsolete. Had the tide of conquest and confiscation flowed over the land, a greater social revolution could not have resulted; and while many were full of hope and confidence that a new prosperity was about to dawn upon Ireland, there were some who continued to deplore the extinction of the old names, and the exile of the old families, whose traditions were part of the history of the country.