"There's where the tug comes!" he said, nodding at it. "Shake hands, and ten paces, Uncle Ian?"
Then he blew out the candle, and in five minutes was sound asleep.
He was out at six o'clock. He made for the stables, and found Jacques pacing the yard. He smiled at Jacques's dazed look.
"What about the horse, Brillon?" he said, nodding as he came up.
"Saracen's had a slice of the stable-boy's shoulder—sir."
Amusement loitered in Gaston's eyes. The "sir" had stuck in Jacques's throat.
"Saracen has established himself, then? Good! And the broncho?"
"Bien, a trifle only. They laugh much in the kitchen—"
"The hall, Brillon."
"—in the hall last night. That hired man over there—"