“Nearly full-bred; the least bit of cocktail in the world. She's out of Crescent, that ran a very good third for the Oaks.” “A strong horse, and a very honest one,” said Jack. “Well, I bought that little mare from young Mr. Martin--the Captain--when he was ordered out to India; I put her in training, and ran her at the Curragh in three weeks, and won, too, the St. Lawrence Handicap.” “Is Captain Martin a sporting character?” asked Jack, carelessly. “He is and he is not,” said Scanlan, half querulously. “He likes a safe thing,--do you understand?” and he gave a most significant wink as he spoke. “Oh, then he's close about money matters?” said Massingbred. “Not exactly that. He 's wasteful and spendthrift, but he'd go to the world's end to do a knowing thing; you 've seen men of that kind?” “Scores of them,” replied Jack; “and they were always the easiest fellows to be duped!” “Exactly my own experience,” said Scanlan, delighted to find his opinions confirmed in such a quarter. “Now, young Martin would give five hundred pounds for a horse to win a fifty pound cup. Don't you know what I mean?” “Perfectly,” said Massingbred, with an approving smile. “Nobody knows the sums he has drawn since he went away,” exclaimed Scanlan, who was momentarily growing more and more confidential. “There 's a deal of high play in India; perhaps he gambles,” said Jack, carelessly. A significant wink and nod gave the answer. “Well, well,” added he, after a pause, “he 'll not mend matters by coming back again.” “And is he about to visit England?” asked Massingbred, in the same easy tone. “So they say,” replied Scanlan, with an effort at the easy indifference of the other. “On leave, perhaps?” said Jack, indolently. “That 's more than I know,” replied he, and relapsed into a thoughtful silence, during which Massingbred continued to scan his features with a sly, downcast glance peculiar to himself. “You've never been in Leicestershire, Mr. Scanlan?” said he, when he had fully satisfied himself with his examination. “Well, then, come over there in the spring--say about March next--and pay me a visit. I 've got a sort of hunting-box there, with a neat stable, and by that time I hope to raise funds for a couple of nags.” “Trust _me_ for the horseflesh, sir. I know where to mount you this very minute. You 're not much above eleven stone?” “Eleven-eight,--at least, so I used to be. Is it a bargain? Will you come?” “There's my hand on't,” said the attorney, overjoyed at the prospect. “Mackworth, and Lord Harry Coverdale, and Sir Went-worth Danby, and a few more, are all my neighbors. Capital fellows, whom you 'll be delighted with. Just the sort of men to suit you,--up to everything that means sport.” “Exactly what I like!” cried Maurice, in ecstasy. “We'll arrange it all this evening, then,” said Jack. “Just drop into my room after they 're all gone to bed, and we'll have a talk over it. You don't know my father, do you?”