The two horses were indeed exactly alike in all physical attributes, and the man who could have distinguished one from the other must have had a very keen eye.

"There they are, gents, as like as two peas, and if it weren't for a small splash of white on the inner side of 'Buffalo's' left hock, there's very few men in my stable could tell one from the other."

Victor Carrington, observing that Dale was talking to the horse-dealer, drew near the animal, with the air of an interested stranger, and stooped to examine the white mark. It was a patch about as large as a crown-piece.

"'Niagara' seems a fine creature," he said.

"Yes," replied a groom; "I don't think there's many better horses in the place than 'Niagara.'"

When Douglas Dale returned to the examination of the two horses, Victor Carrington drew Sir Reginald aside, unperceived by Dale.

"I want you to choose the horse 'Niagara' for Lionel Dale," he said, when they were beyond the hearing of Douglas.

"Why that horse in particular?"

"Never mind why," returned Carrington, impatiently. "You can surely do as much as that to oblige me."

"Be it so," answered Sir Reginald, with assumed carelessness; "the horse seems a good one."

There was a little more talk and consultation, and then Douglas Dale asked his cousin which horse he liked best among those they had seen.

"Well, upon my word, if you ask my opinion, I think there is no better horse than that bay they call 'Niagara;' and if you and Spavin can agree as to price, you may settle the business without further hesitation."

Douglas Dale acted immediately upon the baronet's advice. He went into Mr. Spavin's little counting-house, and wrote a cheque for the price of the horse on the spot, much to that gentleman's satisfaction. While Douglas Dale was writing this cheque, Victor Carrington waited in the yard outside the counting-house.

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?"

"Well, I should rather flatter myself you might, guv'nor," answered the groom, coolly, "an uncommon good bargain, or an uncommon bad one, according to the working out of circumstances. But between friends, supposing that you was me, and supposing that I was you, you know, I wouldn't have him at no price--no, not if Spavin sold him to you for nothing, and threw you in a handsome pair of tops and a bit of pink gratis likewise."

Mr. Hawkins had taken a second glass of brandy by this time; and the brandy provided by Victor Carrington, taken in conjunction with the gin purchased by himself was beginning to produce a lively effect upon his spirits.

"The horse is a dangerous animal to handle, then?" asked Victor.

"When you can ride a flash of lightning, and hold that well in hand, you may be able to ride 'Wild Buffalo,' guv'nor," answered the groom, sententiously; "but _till_ you have got your hand in with a flash of lightning, I wouldn't recommend you to throw your leg across the 'Buffalo.'"

"Come, come," remonstrated Victor, "a good rider could manage the brute, surely?"

"Not the cove as drove a mail-phaeton and pair in the skies, and was chucked out of it, which served him right--not even that sky-larking cove could hold in the 'Buffalo.' He's got a mouth made of cast-iron, and there ain't a curb made, work 'em how you will, that's any more to him than a lady's bonnet-ribbon. He got a good name for his jumping as a steeple-chaser; but when he'd been the death of three jocks and two gentlemen riders, folks began to get rather shy of him and his jumping; and then Captain Chesterly come and planted him on my guv'nor, which more fool my governor to take him at any price, says I. And now, sir, I've stood your friend, and give you a honest warning; and perhaps it ain't going too far to say that I've saved your life, in a manner of speaking. So I hope you'll bear in mind that I'm a poor man with a fambly, and that I can't afford to waste my time in giving good advice to strange gents for nothing."

Victor Carrington took out his purse, and handed Mr. Hawkins a sovereign. A look of positive rapture mingled with the habitual cunning of the groom's countenance as he received this donation.

"I call that handsome, guv'nor," he exclaimed, "and I ain't above saying so."

"Take another glass of brandy, Hawkins."

"Thank you kindly, sir; I don't care if I do," answered the groom; and again he replenished his glass with the coarse and fiery spirit.

"I've given you that sovereign because I believe you are an honest fellow," said the surgeon. "But in spite of the bad character you have given the 'Buffalo' I should like to get him."

"Well, I'm blest," exclaimed Mr. Hawkins; "and you don't look like a hossey gent either, guv'nor."

"I am not a 'horsey gent.' I don't want the 'Buffalo' for myself. I want him for a hunting-friend. If you can get me the brute a dead bargain, say for twenty pounds, and can get a week's holiday to bring him down to my friend's place in the country, I'll give you a five-pound note for your trouble."

The eyes of Mr. Hawkins glittered with the greed of gold as Victor Carrington said this; but, eager as he was to secure the tempting prize, he did not reply very quickly.

"Well, you see, guv'nor, I don't think Mr. Spavin would consent to sell the 'Buffalo' yet awhile. He'd be afraid of mischief, you know. He's a very stiff 'un, is Spavin, and he comes it uncommon bumptious about his character, and so on. I really don't think he'd sell the 'Buffalo' till he's broke, and the deuce knows how long it may take to break him."

"Oh, nonsense; Spavin would be glad to get rid of the beast, depend upon it. You've only got to say you want him for a friend of yours, a jockey, who'll break him in better than any of Spavin's people could do it."

James Hawkins rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Well, perhaps if I put it in that way it might answer," he said, after a meditative pause. "I think Spavin might sell him to a jock, where he would not part with him to a gentleman. I know he'd be uncommon glad to get rid of the brute." "Very well, then," returned Victor Carrington; "you manage matters well, and you'll be able to earn your fiver. Be sure you don't let Spavin think it's a gentleman who's sweet upon the horse. Do you think you are able to manage the business?"