"I'm afraid Rose would look askance at Brack, he's such a highly superior person," said Hector. "I fancy Brack would break his reserve down before they reached Doncaster," said Picton. "I shall send him, anyway." CHAPTER XXI BRACK TURNS TRAVELER "Rose, I am about to send you on an important mission to Torquay," said Picton. "Yes, sir." "You are to find an old boatman named Brackish, generally called Brack. He is a well-known character; there will be no difficulty about it. You will hand him this letter, and if he requires persuading you will use all your eloquence in that direction. You will give him ten pounds and pay all his expenses, and you must land him in the paddock at Doncaster at the latest on the St. Leger day. You understand?" "Yes, sir. May I ask what kind of an individual he is?" "Rough and ready. He was formerly a boatman at Scarborough. He is a Yorkshireman. He will don his best clothes; perhaps he will require a new pilot coat--if he does, buy him one." "And what am I to do when I land him in the paddock, sir?" "Wait until I see him." "Very good, sir. Is that all?" "Yes, I think so. Look after him well; he once did me a good turn. You'll find him interesting, also amusing." "When shall I go, sir?" "To-morrow; that will give you ample time--a day or two in Torquay will be a pleasant change." "Thank you, sir; it will," said Rose. "Come to me in my study to-night and I will give you the money," said Picton. Robert Rose thought, as he watched him walk away: "I hope he doesn't expect me to make a friend of the man. No doubt he'll smell of the sea, and fish, tar, oil-skins, and other beastly things; it won't be a pleasant journey--we shall have to put the windows down. I wonder if he washes, or whether he's caked with dirt, like some of 'em I've seen. It's coming to a pretty pass when I am dispatched on such an errand." He complained to Mrs. Yeoman but got no sympathy. "If Brack's good enough for your master he's good enough for you," she snapped, and he thought it advisable not to pursue the subject farther. Rose arrived in Torquay in due course, late at night, after a tiring journey. Next morning he went forth in quest of Brack. A policeman pointed the boatman out to him. Brack was leaning against the iron rail protecting the inner harbor. Rose looked at him in disgust. Brack had met a friend the night before and they had indulged somewhat freely in ale. He was all right but looked rather seedy and unkempt. Rose walked up to him, putting on his best air. Brack saw him and summed him up at once. "Somebody's flunkey," he thought. "Are you Mr. Brackish?" asked Rose in a patronizing manner. "I'm Brack, name Brackish, don't know about the mister, seldom hear it used when I'm addressed. Now who may you be, my good man?" said Brack, mischief lurking in his eyes.