“I don’t think it would make any difference,” said Mr. Carteret. “There is a prejudice against American horses.”
“Exactly,” said Barclay; “and the way to meet it would be to have them ridden and handled by a well-known Englishman. In fact, I have the man in mind.”
“Who?”
“Young Granvil,” was the answer.
Why Barclay should be interested in making money out of a horse business or in any other way had perplexed Mr. Carteret, for it was not according to his habits of mind. Now it became clear to him, and he suppressed a cynical smile. “I don’t suppose Lady Withers has discussed this matter with you,” he observed.
“In a general way, yes,” replied Barclay; “but it was my suggestion.”
“Of course,” said Mr. Carteret.
Barclay paused awkwardly for a moment, then he said: “Why shouldn’t I talk it over with Lady Withers? She is a very intelligent woman, and a good judge of a horse.”
“An excellent judge of almost everything,” said his friend, “and especially of young men. My son,” he continued (Barclay was five years his junior), “it is commendable of Lady Withers to provide for the Hon. Cecil James Montague Granvil. He is her nephew and flat broke, and he needs people to look after him because he is almost less than half-witted. But that is no reason why you should be the person to look after him.”
“You are unjust to Cecil,” said Barclay, “and most unkind in your insinuations as to Lady Withers. This was my own idea entirely, and I think it would be profitable for both of us. You know you are always complaining because I don’t take more interest in the ranches.”