"They seem perfect," he said as, after surveying the exterior, he entered and looked down the long reach of stalls and loose boxes, many of which were occupied, as he saw at a glance, by valuable animals. "They are a fine lot, sir," he said, gravely, as he went down the long line. "A remarkably fine lot! I have never seen a better show. This fellow—why, isn't he Lord Winstay's bay, Adonis?"
"Yes," said Sir Stephen. "I thought you'd like him."
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Stafford. "You don't mean that you have bought him for me, sir! I know that Winstay refused eight hundred guineas for him."
"I daresay," replied Sir Stephen. "Why shouldn't I buy him for you, my boy? There's another one in the box next that one; a little stiffer. I'm told he's up to your weight and—"
Stafford went into the box and looked at the horse. It was a magnificent, light-weight hunter—the kind of horse that makes a riding-man's heart jump.
"I should say that there are not two better horses of their sort in the county," Stafford said, solemnly, and with a flush of his handsome face.
Sir Stephen's eyes gleamed.
"That's all right: they can't be too good, Stafford."
The head groom, Davis by name, stood, with Pottinger and some underlings, at a little distance in attendance, and the men exchanged glances and nods.
"Have you seen these, Pottinger?" asked Stafford, turning to him, and speaking in the tone which servants love.