not perceiving that I had
spoken last. 'Thank you, Mr. Moriarty,' said Dycer, turning toward an
invisible purchaser supposed to be in the crowd. 'Thank you, sir,
you'll not let a good one go that way.' Every one here turned to find
out the very knowing gentleman; but he could nowhere be seen.

"Dycer resumed, 'Seven ten, for Mr. Moriarty. Going for seven ten--a
cruel sacrifice--there's action for you--playful beast.' Here the
devil had stumbled and nearly killed a basket-woman with two children.

"'Eight,' said I, with a loud voice.

"'Eight pounds, quite absurd,' said Dycer, almost rudely; 'a charger
like that for eight pounds--going for eight pounds--going--nothing
above eight pounds--no reserve, gentlemen, you are aware of that. They
are all, as it were, his Majesty's stud--no reserve whatever--last
time, eight pounds--gone.'

"Amid a very hearty cheer from the mob, God knows why, but a Dublin mob
always cheer--I returned accompanied by a ragged fellow, leading my new
purchase after me with a hay halter.

"'What is the meaning of those letters?' said I, pointing to a very
conspicuous G. R., with sundry other enigmatical signs, burned upon the
animal's hind quarter.

"'That's to show he was a po-lis," said the fellow with a grin; 'and
when ye ride with ladies, ye must turn the decoy side.'

"The auspicious morning at last arrived; and, strange to say, that the
first waking thought was of the unlucky day that ushered in my yachting
excursion, four years before. Why this was so I cannot pretend to
guess: there was but little analogy in the circumstances, at least so
far as anything had then gone. 'How is Marius?' said I to my servant,
as he opened my shutters. Here let me mention that a friend of the
Kildare Street club had suggested this name from the remarkably classic
character of my steed's countenance; his nose, he assured me, was
perfectly Roman.

"'Marius is doing finely, sir, barring his cough, and the trifle that
ails his hind legs.'

"'He'll carry me quietly, Simon; eh?'

"'Quietly! I'll warrant he'll carry you quietly, if that's all.'

"Here was comfort, certainly. Simon had lived forty years as pantry
boy with my mother, and knew a great deal about horses. I dressed
myself, therefore, in high spirits; and if my pilot jacket and oil-skin
cap in former days had half persuaded me that I was born for marine
achievements, certainly my cords and tops, that morning, went far to
convince me