"What horse?" asked Mr. Flint, vaguely. "But never mind. Tell Mr. Freeman to make out the cheque."
Mr. Vane glanced at Mr. Flint, and his eyes twinkled. Victoria, who had long ago discovered the secret of the Honey Dew, knew that he was rolling it under his tongue and thinking her father a fool for his indulgence.
"How do you do, Mr. Vane?" she said; "Austen's coming home, isn't he?" She had got this by feminine arts out of Mr. Paul Pardriff, to whom she had not confided the fact of her possession of the clipping.
The Honourable Hilary gave a grunt, as he always did when he was surprised and displeased, as though some one had prodded him with a stick in a sensitive spot.
"Your son? Why, Vane, you never told me that," said Mr. Flint. "I didn't know that you knew him, Victoria."
"I don't," answered Victoria, "but I'd like to. What did he do to Mr.
Blodgett?" she demanded of Hilary.
"Mr. Blodgett!" exclaimed that gentleman. "I never heard of him. What's happened to him?"
"He will probably recover," she assured him.
The Honourable Hilary, trying in vain to suppress his agitation, rose to his feet.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Victoria," he said, but his glance was fixed on the clipping in her hand.