“Not many. No.”
“I hope not. I don't want another until I sell that horse of mine. The chap who stuck me with him is a friend of mine. He warranted the beast perfectly safe for an infant in arms to drive and not afraid of anything short of an earthquake. He is a lovely liar. I admire his qualifications in that respect, and hope to trade with him again. He bucks the stock market occasionally.”
He smiled as he said it. There was not the slightest malice in his tone, but, if I had been the “friend,” I should have kept clear of stocks for awhile.
“What became of the horse?” I asked.
“Ran away again. Jenkins had just got back into the carriage when another one of those thunder claps started more trouble. The horse ran four miles, more or less, and stopped only when the wheels got jammed between two trees. I paid nine hundred dollars for that carriage.”
“And the coachman?”
“Oh, he lit on his head, fortunately, and wasn't hurt. Spent half the night trying to find a phone not out of commission but failed. Got home about four o'clock, leading the horse. Paine—”
“Yes?”
“Of course you know what I've come here for. I'm much obliged to you.”
“That's all right. You're welcome.”