"In the wide world: I know there isn't," said Scattergood, cutting him short. Then, suddenly, "What's her name?"
"Meg," replied the dealer, who was expecting a very different question.
"Meg—Meg," said the Doctor. "Why, it ought to be——Well, never mind, Meg will do. So you bred her yourself? Will you swear you didn't steal her?"
This was too much even for a horse-dealer. "We're not a firm of horse-thieves," he said, and he was preparing to lead her back into the stable.
"I'm only joking," said Scattergood in a tremulous voice which belied him. "She's the living likeness of one I remember years ago—one that was stolen. Come, bring her back. I'm ready to buy that mare at her full value."
"And what may that be?" replied the dealer, glad that the enemy had made the first move.
"A hundred and twenty."
The dealer was astonished; for his customer had offered the exact sum at which he hoped to sell the mare. For a moment he thought of standing out for a hundred and fifty, but he knew it was useless to bargain with Scattergood, so he said:
"It's giving her away, sir, at a hundred and twenty. But for the sake of quick business, and you being a gentleman as knows a horse when you sees one, I'll take you at your own figure."
"Done," said Scattergood. "I'll send you a cheque round in ten minutes." And without another word he walked out of the yard. He had found the perfect horse.