The man pulled up at the end of the block, and fixed his horse to the halter found in all New York streets for that purpose. I jumped out and we entered a stable, I taking care to keep close to the large open door. Needless to say, I scrutinized the floor closely and rapidly for trap-doors, but none appeared. My companion asked an ostler, who was rubbing down one of several horses, if the “guv’nor” was in. The man said “no,” but he would be back in a few minutes. I then informed the driver that I could not wait, and had better see him in the morning on the steamer.
“One minute,” replied the fellow; “if you will be good enough, I have only to go to No. 4, and will bring my guv’nor back with me.” With that he disappeared.
While we waited the ostler made one or two friendly remarks concerning the weather, and a moment later a gentleman, attired in a very handsome fur-lined coat, silk hat, and kid gloves of a light and delicate tint, walked into the stable from the street outside. My late companion followed, and, addressing me, said: “This is Dr. Coombs, sir,” observing to the doctor that I had offered to look after his nephew on the steamer without any payment. Dr. Coombs thanked me in a gentlemanlike manner, and appeared in all respects a well-bred man.
The doctor then turned to his coachman and told him to fetch the boy, explaining to me that his nephew was a ward in Chancery, and that he would become possessed of a fortune of over ten million dollars on attaining his majority. Being the boy’s guardian, he was anxious that some responsible person should keep an eye upon him during his voyage to England, where another uncle would meet him. We were only talking for a short time, but I noticed that the doctor was somewhat restless, moving frequently towards the stalls containing the horses, all of which, he remarked, belonged to his nephew. Still I could not shake off a certain suspicion of my surroundings, and would not move from the door.
We had been waiting about five minutes when a big, horsy-looking fellow lounged in from the street, shouting at the top of a loud voice: “Is the boss in?”
My friend in the fur coat came forward, politely raised his hat, said he was the master, and asked the stranger’s business.
The new-comer, pointing to a grey mare in one of the stalls, replied, “I had that mare out yesterday, and I want to know, boss, what you’ll take for her,” at the same time handing the doctor his card. Both men were at a little distance from me, and a few words passed between them which I did not hear. Then the fur-coated gentleman came up to me, saying, “Excuse me a minute; I can’t understand why the boy is so long; I will go and fetch him myself!” With that he left me with stranger number three.
This fellow continued to examine the horses, making remarks upon them to the ostler, and then, to my surprise, suddenly said to me, pointing to the grey mare, that he wanted to buy it; but “the boss” could not sell it to him, as he was an agent in Boston for buying and selling horses, the same line as “the boss” himself was in, and there was a State law prohibiting dealings between agents in the same business. He next asked me if I would help him in the transaction. I replied that I was sorry I could not see my way to do so.
“I wish you could,” said the stranger. “I would give eight hundred and fifty dollars for the mare; she is a valuable beast.” As he spoke the doctor returned. The Bostonian promptly told him he could see a way to a deal, as that gentleman (pointing to me) would buy the mare with his money, and then he in turn would purchase her from me, adding, “Now, boss, what’s your price?”
“Eight hundred dollars,” replied the doctor.