Nasmyth nodded.
“One difficulty is that there’s nothing in the neighborhood that I could try him for pace against except that horse of Gladwyne’s.”
“He’d no doubt let you have the beast.”
“It’s possible,” Nasmyth agreed dryly. “But I’ve objections to being indebted to him; and I don’t want Batley, Marple and Crestwick to take a hand in and put their money on me. However, we’ll think it over.”
They retired to sleep soon afterward; and the next day Lisle walked across to call on Gladwyne, in a quietly determined mood. Clarence was in his library, and he looked up with some curiosity when Lisle was shown in. Lisle came to the point at once.
“You’ve no doubt noticed that Jim Crestwick has been going pretty hard of late,” he said. “Bets, speculation, and that sort of thing. He can’t keep it up on a minor’s allowance. It will end in a bad smash if he isn’t checked.”
Gladwyne’s manner became supercilious.
“I fail to see how it concerns you, or, for that matter, either of us.”
“We won’t go into the question—it’s beside the point. What I want you to do is to pull him up.”
He spoke as if he meant to be obeyed, and Gladwyne looked at him in incredulous astonishment.