“Very well,” he said, “get me the address, and I’ll find out all I can about him. And—if you’ll treat me as a friend I will be grateful—for I want one.” And he held out his hand, which Mrs. Temple took.
“You’ll live it down, no fear,” she answered; “I’ve always pitied you. But you had better go now, for my lord and master sometimes does not hold my views. But when John Temple writes to his uncle I will forward his address to you at once. And now, good-by.”
So Henderson left Woodlea Hall with a new hope in his heart. At all events he would be able to find out, if Mrs. Temple gave him John Temple’s address, whether there was any truth in the haunting suspicion which had pursued his own mind. But a week passed and he heard nothing from Mrs. Temple. And during this week an incident occurred that roused to fury his smoldering resentment against his groom, Jack Reid.
He had paid the man the two thousand pounds, and heard rumors of Reid swaggering at markets and meetings, but had declined to enter into any horse-racing establishments with him. Reid had tried to bully, but here Henderson was firm.
“I’ve no money, so it’s no good speaking of it,” he had said.
What was his indignation, therefore, when one day Reid coolly asked him to advance him another hundred pounds.
“There’s a little mare I must have, and I’m short a hundred of her price; so, Henderson, my boy, ye must shell out.”
Henderson’s brow grew black as night.
“She’s to be sold at Skidder’s to-morrow,” continued Reid, “and I thought I would take the dog-cart and drive over in the morning, and borrow Brown Bess for the occasion; for it’s well always to make a good appearance.” And Reid gave an insolent laugh.
“Borrow my trap and horse if you dare!” shouted Henderson, hoarse with passion.