Father and son were face to face, and, taking advantage of their astonishment and consternation, the trainer and Eli beat a retreat, wondering how their plot would succeed.
For a few moments neither of them spoke. Both knew they had been brought together by Eli and the trainer. At last a smile came over the Squire's face, and he said, as he held out his hand, "We have been caught cleverly, Ulick, and I trust it is all for the best; it is a long time since we met, my boy." His voice shook at the finish, and this touched Ulick; he noticed how his father had changed, he seemed much older, and his face more worn. He clasped his hand and said—
"We have both suffered; it was all a mistake." He seemed at a loss for words. Had his father decided to do him justice, or did he still suspect him? It would be impossible for him to return to Hazelwell at present, and be constantly meeting Warren and his wife; that was more than he could endure, and yet he was unable to explain the reason to his father.
"So you are Mr. Lanark," said the Squire, laughing more heartily than he had done for many a day.
Eli and the trainer, listening like two guilty schoolboys in the hall, heard him, and the former said, joyfully—
"It's all right, Fred, that's the Squire's laugh, and right glad I am to hear it."
"It's splendid," said Fred, as he rubbed his hands in high glee; "we must crack a bottle over this, Eli, come along."
"I am Mr. Lanark," said Ulick, "and I own the Saint, but he is not for sale," he added, smiling.
"Never mind the horse at present; tell me what you have been doing," said the Squire.
"Living quietly in a flat in West Kensington, and doing a little racing," replied Ulick.