“It belongs to an American gentleman,” said Doyle, “who’s within in the hotel. We’re waiting for him this minute. He’s getting his camera, and when he has it got he’s going round with Thady Gallagher to photograph the town.”
Gallagher took Major Kent by the arm and drew him apart.
“Major,” he said, “can you tell me who was General John Regan?”
“Never heard of him,” said the Major, “but if he owns that car he must be a middling well-off man.”
“Look here, Doyle,” said Dr. O’Grady, “you know that filly the Major bought at the fair.”
“I’ve heard of her,” said Doyle.
“Well, as it happens,” said Dr. O’Grady, “she turns out to be a bit too good for what he wants. His idea was to get something to do a bit of carting, and it turns out that this one is—well, she has breeding. Now, look here, Doyle———”
He led Doyle apart just out of earshot of the Major and Gallagher.
“I owe you a trifle, don’t I, Doyle?”
“As near as I can go to it without looking at my books,” said Doyle, “you owe me £60, and I’d be thankful if so be that it’s quite convenient to you——”