“No, my lord; a jobber might, but we could not,” amended Alick, looking every inch a Dudley as he spoke.
“I stand corrected,” said Lord Kemms, with a laugh. “I quite see; the thing might be possible, but not to you. Now, what does your brother propose?”
“To consider the bargain off,” was the prompt reply.
“Nothing else?” inquired his lordship.
“Or otherwise,” answered Alick, “to let you have her, giving an undertaking that if within six months my idea prove to have been correct, he will take her back and return your money.”
“Evidently he is not of your opinion?”
“No, my lord.”
“Do you think you know more about horses than he?”
“I think I know more about Nellie.”
For a moment Lord Kemms looked hard in Alick Dudley’s face, which was frank, and young, and pleasant. He had not Arthur’s delicately-cut features,—he was cast altogether in a larger and a rougher mould; but he was the making of a finer man, the owner of Kemms Park decided. Looking at Alick’s face, he saw reflected as in a mirror the scene which had taken place at Berrie Down, and, perhaps, it was this which made him say, suddenly,—