"He's one of the best we have, and I am surprised Mr. Chesney has parted with him," said Eve.

"So am I, but then money is money and it was cash down," said Braund.

"Mr. Chesney has plenty of money--I wonder why he sold him?" said Eve.

"You don't think there's anything wrong with the horse?" asked Braund sharply.

"Oh no," laughed Eve; "don't be alarmed. Mr. Chesney would not have sold him to you had such been the case."

"No, I suppose not; but I've known men who would," said Braund.

"In America?" asked Eve, with a merry twinkle in her eyes.

"Yes; there's some pretty cute hands at a bargain in my country."

"But it would be dishonest," protested Eve.

"We don't call it that," said Braund.

"Then what do you call it?" she asked.

"It would be regarded as a cute bit of business. A man is supposed to look after his interests; if another man gets the better of him, it's all in the game. We admire the man who gets the better of another man," said Braund.

Eve laughed as she said:

"I am afraid that is not my way of looking at things."

"No, of course not; how could it be?" said Braund quickly.

Eve was amused at him. He had an unending flow of conversation, his remarks were original, he expressed opinions freely in a way she was not accustomed to hear. On the whole he created, if not an altogether favorable impression, at least a curiosity to know more of him.

It was a pleasant evening, and as they motored back to Trent Park the American expressed his entire approval of the visit.

"Two very sensible women," he said; "also very charming. You're lucky to live here; I suppose you see a good deal of them?"

Alan said he did, and changed the subject. He was not inclined to discuss Eve Berkeley with him.

"We'll go through the village," said Alan. "It won't be dark for a long time, in fact it's light almost all night now."

He drove slowly through Little Trent. Abel Head was about to close the Sherwood Inn; Carl Meason stood near him, full in the light of the lamp, which Abel always lit, whether required or not, at the same hour.

"Quaint inns and places you have in this country," said Braund, as he noticed the sign.

Abel recognized Alan and touched his cap. Carl Meason stared at them.

As his glance rested on the American he gave a slight start of surprise.

"Who is that with Mr. Chesney?" he asked.

"Don't know for sure; fancy a gentleman down here after buying one of the horses. I heard it was likely Mameluke would be sold; it's a pity, he's a great horse," said Abel.

Carl gave what sounded like a sigh of relief.

"Doesn't happen to come from America, does he?" he asked carelessly.

"Not that I'm aware of," said Abel.

Valentine Braund caught sight of Carl Meason's face in the light; he turned quickly to look again as the motor went past.

"Funny," he said. "Fancied I'd seen that fellow before."

"Which fellow?" asked Alan.

"The man under the lamp. I'm almost sure of it, but it can't be possible in this quiet place," said Braund.

"His name is Carl Meason, a surveyor I believe; he's studying maps, planning road improvements, and he wants to be quiet," said Alan.

When they arrived at the house and were seated for a quiet smoke Braund said quickly:

"I can't get that fellow out of my head--it's strange."

"How strange?" asked Alan.

"He reminds me of a man I had dealings with in America," said Braund half to himself.

"What sort of dealings?" questioned Alan.

"It's impossible of course; what would he be doing here? He reminds me of a man who once caused a lot of bloodshed at our steel works--a strike leader, if not worse," said Braund.

Alan smiled as he replied:

"Such a man would not be likely to remain at the Sherwood Inn, Little Trent, for many weeks. He'd find it too slow for him."

"That's just it, he would; but I'd like to see him again just out of curiosity," said Braund.

CHAPTER X

CARL MAKES LOVE

"I'm going away for a few days. You'll keep my room; I'll be back at the end of the week," said Meason.

"I'll keep your room," said Abel, wishing he was leaving altogether.

Carl Meason left in his motor car. He took the road to Nottingham, which skirted Trent Park, and ran past the old monastery; he slowed down as he neared the ruin and hooted.

Jane heard it and came out; there was a small door opening on to the road.