"That's the girl all the newspapers have been talking about," answered the groom importantly.
"Actress?"
"Actress! I should say not. That young woman is the daughter of Stanley Hargreave, the millionaire who was lost at sea. And it won't be long before she puts her finger in a pie of four or five millions. If you want any rides, you'll have to talk it over with the boss. He may or may not take any more rides. You'd probably have to ride in the afternoon, anyhow, as every nag is out in the morning."
"Where's the most popular road?"
"Toward the park; but Miss Hargreave always goes along the riverside road. She doesn't like strangers about."
"Oh, I see. Well, I'll drop in this afternoon and see your master. They say that riding is good for a torpid liver. Have a cigar?"
"Thanks."
The groom proceeded into the stables and the affable stranger took himself off.
A free rein; they could work it to suit themselves. There wasn't the least obstacle in the way. On the face of it, it appeared to be the simplest job they had yet undertaken. To get rid of the riding master in some natural way after he and the girl had started. It was like falling off a log.
"Susan," said Florence, as she came into breakfast after her exhilarating ride, "did you hear pistol shots last night?"