At ten o’clock the next morning he and Barclay were sitting in the motor in front of Crumpeton, while a footman explained that the ladies were at the stables and Major Hammerslea was with them. Mr. Carteret told the chauffeur to go to the stables, and there they got out. Standing saddled on the floor of an open box-stall was a showy-looking chestnut thoroughbred horse. As was only natural, the occupants of the motor stopped to examine him, and Mr. Carteret gave an exclamation of surprise. “If I am not mistaken,” he said, “that is one of our Prince Royal colts.” He looked carefully at the inside of the foreleg just below the armpit, and found a small brand. “It is,” he announced. “By Jove! he _is_ a good-looker!” While he was doing this, Lady Withers’s stud groom, Tripp, came out and touched his cap. “’E’s a nice one, sir,” said Tripp. “He is,” said Mr. Carteret. “Is the other one as good?” “Other one, sir?” said Tripp. “Wot other?” “The other American horse that came with him,” said Mr. Carteret. “This one only come ’alf an hour ago,” said Tripp. “’E’s Major Hammerslea’s ’oss. ’E bought ’im last week at Tattersalls.” “You must be mistaken, Tripp,” said Barclay; “this is one of the horses that we had sent out to Mr. Cecil.” “Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” said Tripp; “this is _not_ one of the ’osses sent out to Mr. Cecil; this is Major Hammerslea’s ’oss. The hanimals that arrived from America are in the lower stables.” “Thank you,” said Mr. Carteret; and they passed on in the direction indicated by Tripp. “There is no use wasting breath on that blockhead,” he said to Barclay. In the court of the lower stables they came upon Lady Withers and the Major inspecting some two-year-olds. “Good morning,” said Mr. Carteret. “I gathered from your note that you are dissatisfied with the horses. Would it be too much to tell me why?” “It was my idea,” said Lady Withers coldly, “that Cecil should undertake the management of a horse agency, not a zoo.” “I am still in the dark,” said Mr. Carteret, “but you speak as if they had given you some trouble.” “My dear fellow,” said the Major, “it has turned out precisely as I said it would.” “But it can’t be anything very serious,” said Mr. Carteret. “Oh, no--it is nothing serious,” said Lady Withers, “to have two grooms in the hospital with fractured limbs, and to have no insurance upon them, to have Cecil bitten in the shoulder, to have my breaking harness torn to pieces and Tripp giving me notice. No one would consider that serious.” “There must be some mistake about this,” said Mr. Carteret blankly. “As I told you, these horses were apt to buck playfully, but, if properly handled, would cause no trouble.” “It may be playfulness,” said Lady Withers; “I saw one of them buck the saddle over his forelegs and head.” “That is a fact,” said the Major. “I had read of such a thing, but had never believed it possible.” “It is possible,” said Mr. Carteret, “but not with our horses.”