He left Penmorval after breakfast next morning, without having seen Bothwell, who was out on the hills breaking in a new horse while the family were at breakfast. He had been out since five o'clock, the butler told Mrs. Wyllard.
"Is he riding Glencoe?" she asked, with a look of alarm.
"Yes, ma'am."
"He is a dreadful horse, I know, Julian," she said. "Manby told me about him only yesterday. He had narrowly escaped being thrown the day before; and he said that Glencoe was a really dangerous horse, and that we ought to get rid of him."
"So that he may break somebody else's bones," suggested Mr. Distin. "That is what a good coachman always advises."
"And now Bothwell has gone out on him, alone."
"You would not have him take some one to pick him up if he were thrown," said Wyllard. "My dear Dora, there is not the slightest occasion for alarm. The horse is young, and a little gay; but your cousin excels as a rough-rider, and there will be no harm done."
"But why should he want to ride that horse?" said Dora; "I'm sure Manby would advise him not."
"The very reason why he should do it," replied her husband.
"I wonder if he is trying to kill himself while I am eating my breakfast calmly here?" speculated Joseph Distin. "He must know that I suspect him; and he may think that the game is up."