'True enough. Horses all dead beat; couldn't raise a remount for love or money.'
'Well, the game's up now, isn't it? I've held some good cards too, but they never told, somehow. I'm more sorry for Jim—and—that poor girl, Aileen, than I am for myself.'
'Don't fret—there's a good fellow. Fortune of war, you know. Anything else?'
Here he closed his eyes, and seemed gone; but he wakes up again, and begins in a dreamy way. His words came slowly, but his voice never altered one bit.
'I'm sorry I fired at poor Warrigal now. No dog ever was more faithful than he has been to me all through till now; but I was vexed at his having sold Dick and poor Jim.'
'We knew we should find you here or hereabouts without that,' says Sir Ferdinand.
'How was that?'
'Two jockey-boys met you one night at Calga gate; one of them recognised Locket by the white patch on her neck. He wired to us at the next station.'
'So you were right, after all, Dick. It was a mistake to take that mare. I've always been confoundedly obstinate; I admit that. Too late to think of it now, isn't it?'
'Anything else I can do?' says Sir Ferdinand.