“I can hardly say,--something in his look, and manner of speaking of you, as of course we did often. I noticed the same look to-day, when he used the whip, and when you came back with the horse. Depend on it, he wishes you no good. I don’t like to speak ill of any man, but I believe him to be a scamp. My wife would never know him. I ask her why, and she says she has an instinctive aversion to him. I am sure she has had something to verify her intuitions. She is not a person for idle fancies, except in my personal case, and then I had trouble enough to change fancy into fact.” “What has Belden been doing all these years?” asked Waddy. “The only time I ever heard of him personally was a year or so after I went, when a youth who came to China to forget some jilting miss, told me that he was to marry a lady at whose house we used to meet--you know,” and he turned away so that his companion might not see his face. “There was nothing in that,” said Tommy. “Soon after you went, he ceased to be received there--reasons unknown. He was a pretty hard customer then, and played high. Then he got some reputation of a certain kind in an amatory way. By-and-by the house failed--total smash--not a dollar to be found; still his connections and power of making himself agreeable, particularly to women of the class who haven’t intuitions, or don’t consult them, kept him up. He’s rather accomplished--sings, you know, and writes what half-educated people call clever things.” “He must have a large audience,” observed Ira, a little bitterly, even for him. “He has,” agreed Tootler; “among knaves as well as fools. It’s my belief the fellow would steal. In fact, where he got his money to go and live in Europe, as he did for several years, no one knows, unless he hid it from the firm’s creditors. Then he went to California and pretended to have made his fortune. He has lately been to Europe again. I believe he is now on the matrimonial lay, the beggar! But you don’t ask me about the other friends with whom we used to be so intimate.” “No,” said Mr. Waddy, with the tone of one definitely putting aside the subject. “I do not. How that mare of yours travels! Can you put me in the way of getting a horse?” “For what work? My next neighbour has a five-year-old, Cecilia’s half-brother, for sale. He’s a beauty, black as the devil. The only thing against him is, he’s not broke to harness. They ask a loud price, too. It will make you stare.” “Not very easy to make me stare,” said Waddy easily. “A saddle horse is just my affair. We’ll look at him in the morning, and if he suits, ‘Ho for cavaliers!’”