ale, Mr. Harry," he said. "Barring accidents, we are
going to win the Derby this year with a colt locally bred and locally
trained. It is a Blenheim colt, too, and if you hadn't been unfortunate
he would have been yours. He's only once been seen in public yet, and
nobody but ourselves knows what he can do. Still, people will get
talking and our horse stands at a short price in the betting."

"I am glad to hear it," Fielden said heartily. "I am especially glad to
hear it for Sir George's sake. You know almost as much about the family
as I do. You know what Sir George could do with the money. We don't want
to gossip, but I know Sir George is a good master to you and that his
interests are yours."

"That's true, Mr. Harry. I'd do anything for Sir George, who has been a
rare good master to me. But he ain't you, sir, and he ain't the old
squire, either. You see, I served under a Fielden from the time I was
ten years old till I was close on seventy, and it was a bit of a wrench
leaving Herons Dyke. And when I heard you were dead, it seemed to me,
sir, that I had nothing else left to live for. I ain't one to show my
feelings much, sir, but when I saw you in the yard just now I could have
burst out crying like a kid. You ought never to have gone away, sir. You
ought to have stayed here and faced it out. But, perhaps, you did well
in South Africa. Maybe you have come back with a fortune. I'd like to
hear you say so."

"I think I am rather worse off than when I went out," Fielden smiled. "I
had a fortune in my grasp, but was robbed by a pair of murderous
scoundrels, who will have something to answer for later. And now, take
me round and show me the horses. Let me see this Blenheim colt of which
such great things are expected."

Raffle led the way across the fields to the neat yard along the range of
stables where Mallow trained for a small owner or two. Whatever the
condition of the house and grounds, there was nothing lacking in the
stables. They came at length to a loose box a little apart from the
rest, and Raffle stripped the clothing off a great raking chestnut
horse, showing a skin like satin gleaming in the sunlight. The
expression on Raffle's face was almost motherly. His eyes shone as he
laid his hand upon the horse's glossy neck.

"There," he said proudly, "look at that! You are most as good a judge of
a horse as I am, tell me if he doesn't look all the way a Derby winner.
Just cast your eye over those shoulders, l