He pointed to the ladder, which was still standing where Carne had placed it, and then led him by a side door round to the other side of the wall. Here he pointed to some heavy footmarks upon the turf. Carne examined them closely.
"If the size of his boot is any criterion of his build," he said, "he must have been a precious big fellow. Let me see how mine compares with it."
He placed his neat shoe in one of the imprints before him, and smiled as he noticed how the other overlapped it.
They then made their way to the box, where they found the animal at his breakfast. He lifted his head and glanced round at them, bit at the iron of the manger, and then gave a little playful kick with one of his hind legs.
"He doesn't seem any the worse for his adventure," said Carne, as the trainer went up to him and ran his hand over his legs.
"Not a bit," answered the other. "He's a wonderfully even-tempered horse, and it takes a lot to put him out. If his nerves had been at all upset he wouldn't have licked up his food as clean as he has done."
Having given another look at him, they left him in charge of his lad, and returned to the house.
The gallop after breakfast confirmed their conclusion that there was nothing the matter, and Simon Carne returned to town ostensibly comforted by Bent's solemn assurance to that effect. That afternoon Lord Calingforth, the owner of Vulcanite, called upon him. They had met repeatedly, and consequently were on the most intimate terms.
"Good-afternoon, Carne," he said as he entered the room. "I have come to condole with you upon your misfortune, and to offer you my warmest sympathy."
"Why, what on earth has happened?" asked Carne, as he offered his visitor a cigar.