He took this opportunity of addressing Hawkins, the groom. "I want a job done in your line," he said, "and I think you'd be just the man to manage it for me. Have you any spare time?" "I've an hour or two, now and then, of a night, after my work's over," answered the man. "At what time, and where, are you to be met with after your work?" "Well, sir, my own home is too poor a place for a gentleman like you to come to; but if you don't object to a public--and a very respectable public, too, in its way--there's the 'Goat and Compasses,' three doors down the little street as you'll see on your left, as you leave this here yard, walking towards London." "Yes, yes," interrupted Victor, impatiently; "you are to be found at the 'Goat and Compasses'?" "I mostly am, sir, after nine o'clock of an evening--summer and winter--" "That will do," exclaimed Victor, with a quick glance at the door of the counting-house. "I will see you at the 'Goat and Compasses' to-night, at nine. Hush!" Eversleigh and his cousin were just emerging from the counting-house, as Victor Carrington gave the groom a warning gesture. "Mum's the word," muttered the man. Sir Reginald Eversleigh and Douglas Dale took their places in the phaeton, and drove away. Victor Carrington arrived at half-past eight at the "Goat and Compasses"--a shabby little public-house in a shabby little street. Here he found Mr. Hawkins lounging in the bar, waiting for him, and beguiling the time by the consumption of a glass of gin. "There's no one in the parlour, sir," said Hawkins, as he recognized Mr. Carrington; "and if you'll step in there, we shall be quite private. I suppose there ain't no objection to this gent and me stepping into the parlour, is there, Mariar?" Mr. Hawkins asked of a young lady, in a very smart cap, who officiated as barmaid. "Well, you ain't a parlour customer in general, Mr. Hawkins; but I suppose if the gent wants to speak to you, there'll be no objection to your making free with the parlour, promiscuous," answered the damsel, with supreme condescension. "And if the gent has any orders to give, I'm ready to take 'em," she added, pertly. Victor Carrington ordered a pint of brandy. The parlour was a dingy little apartment, very much the worse for stale tobacco smoke, and adorned with gaudy racing-prints. Here Mr. Carrington seated himself, and told his companion to take the place opposite him. "Fill yourself a glass of brandy," he said. And Mr. Hawkins was not slow to avail himself of the permission. "Now, I'm a man who does not care to beat about the bush, my friend Hawkins," said Victor, "so I'll come to business at once. I've taken a fancy to that bay horse, 'Wild Buffalo,' and I should like to have him; but I'm not a rich man, and I can't afford a high price for my fancy. What I've been thinking, Hawkins, is that, with your help, I might get 'Wild Buffalo' a bargain?"