“Of _that_ I am certain,” was the reply; and Lord Kemms held out his hand to Arthur,—a courtesy which he did not think it necessary to extend to Mr. Black. “Then you will send her over this evening?” were his last words, as, with a farewell nod to Mr. Black, he galloped across the field to rejoin Mr. Raidsford, whose horse had been regaling itself at the expense of Mr. Dudley’s thorn-hedge during the time occupied by the preceding conversation. “Well, it is no wonder you are a poor man, Dudley,” remarked Mr. Black, the moment Lord Kemms was out of earshot; “he would have given you fifty guineas more for that Nellie creature, as easily as fifty pence.” “I am not a horse-dealer,” returned the Squire, coldly. “And have you not secured what you wanted? You said a hundred pounds would be sufficient to commence your advertising; you have got your hundred pounds, and Nellie is gone.” “You speak as if you regretted her,” said Mr. Black. “Whether I do or not is my concern,” was the reply. “Of course; only, if you do regret her, say the word, and I will go to Runcorn. He would take it up, pretty sharp, I can tell you; only, as I explained, those fellows always want the biggest share for themselves.” “I have sold the mare, and there’s an end of it,” answered Arthur, resuming his walk up and down the meadow. “There’s the beginning of it,” was Mr. Raidsford’s somewhat different comment when Lord Kemms told him the result of the interview. “Your cheque will be passed through Mr. Black’s bank before the week is over. Well, I am heartily sorry for Dudley. Even from this simple transaction it is easy to see what the result will prove. A man like that stands no chance with Mr. Peter Black.” “You were telling me Mr. Black’s history,” suggested Lord Kemms. “We left him in Clerkenwell, on his own account, and not above his business.” “Your lordship must kindly excuse my City slang,” answered Mr. Raidsford. “On the contrary—excuse me—or rather let me assure you my quotations were intended as complimentary, not satirical. Your story interests me immensely. I wish I could relate a man’s biography as well.” “Although he stuck to his business,” proceeded Mr. Raidsford, without directly replying to his companion’s gracious remark, “he fell into difficulties; perhaps, because he did not stick to it solely, but served himself precisely as he had served his employers. Speculated; tried to attend to two things at once, and, as is usual in such cases, neither answered. Then he failed, and passed through the Court.” “The Bankruptcy Court, do you mean?” inquired Lord Kemms. “No, the Insolvent,” was the reply. He has been through them both more than once. I was in with him the first time for about a couple of hundreds, and I remember the estate paid a shilling in the pound. I have never lost much by him since, however.