“Yes. There are several decent studs within driving distance of Steynholme. Isn’t that so, landlord?”
“Lots, sir,” said Tomlin. “An’ the very man you’re talkin’ to has some stuff not to be sneezed at.”
“Is that so?” Mr. Franklin gazed at Elkin in a very friendly manner. “May I ask your name, sir?”
Elkin produced a card. Every hoof in his stables appreciated in value forthwith, but he was far too knowing that he should appear to rush matters.
“Call any day you like, sir,” he said. “Glad to see you. But give me notice. I generally have an appetizer here of a morning about eleven.”
“An’ you want it, too, Fred,” said Hobbs. “Dash me, you’re as thin as a herrin’. Stop whiskey an’ drink beer, like me.”
“And you might also follow that gentleman’s example,” interposed Siddle quietly, nodding towards Mr. Franklin.
“What’s that?” snapped Elkin.
“Don’t worry about murders.”
“That’s a nice thing to say. Why should I worry about the d—d mix-up?”