“I beg your pardon, Mr. Dudley, for my hasty speech. The fact is—I—I—had set my heart on having her; and—really this is most provoking—I wanted her so particularly.”
“And my brother wanted the money particularly, my lord,” answered the lad; “at least, so he said,” added Alick, with a terrible remembrance of Arthur’s wrath when he first heard there was anything amiss with Nellie.
“What the devil is wrong with her?” asked Lord Kemms, irritably. “Sit down, can’t you, and tell me all about it.”
“I am afraid she has got something the matter with her sight,” was the reply. “When you first spoke to me on the subject, that day in the paddock, my lord,” added the lad, “I thought there was not a blemish about her, but this last week I have felt uneasy. Of course it is not easy to tell whether it is so or not; only, having been with her all her life, I notice what another person might not. I did not want to vex my brother unless I felt certain, so he knew nothing about the matter till he told me she was to be sent over to the Park.”
“And then?” inquired Lord Kemms.
“Then I mentioned my fear to him, and he said you ought to be informed of it. We knew, my lord, or, at least, we thought, you would not have her examined by a veterinary surgeon, coming from us; indeed, I doubt if any stranger could detect a thing wrong about her now.”
“But you think there is?”
For a moment Alick remained silent; he felt the hundred pounds Arthur wanted so badly might be had, if he only appeared doubtful; and Arthur, he knew, was fuming and fretting at home over his disappointment. The youth loved his brother, and was grateful to him; further, he was afraid of his temper; but still, right was right, and honour honour.
“My lord, I know there is, though my brother does not believe it.”
“Still you might have passed her off as sound upon me, even subject to a veterinary opinion?”