"Come into the smoking-room," said Mr. Dashwood when they had shaken hands. "This is luck! I only came over by the morning boat. I'm coming down west. Oh, I'll tell you all about it in a minute. Come on into the smoking-room and have a drink."

Mr. Dashwood seemed in the highest of good spirits. He led the way into the smoking-room, rang the bell, ordered two whiskies and an Apollinaris and cigars, chaffed the Hibernian waiter, who was a "character," and then, comfortably seated, began his conversation with French.

"Here's luck!" said Mr. Dashwood.

"Luck!" responded French, taking a sip of his drink.

"This is the first drink I've had to-day," said Mr. Dashwood. "I've felt as seedy as an owl. It was an awfully rough crossing, but I didn't touch anything. I tell you what, French, since I saw you last I've been going it hard, but I've pulled up. You see," said Mr. Dashwood, "I'm not a drinking man, and when a fellow of that sort goes on the jag, he makes a worse jag of it than one of your old seasoned topers."

"That's so," said French. "And if you start to try to match one of those chaps, it's like matching yourself against a rum barrel. What drove you to it?"

"A woman," said Mr. Dashwood.

Mr. French laughed.

"Two women, I should say. I got tangled up with a woman."

"And you tried to cut the knot with a whisky bottle. Well, you're not the first. Fire away, and tell us about it."

"It's this way," said Mr. Dashwood. "A year ago I met a Miss Hitchin. She was one of those red-haired girls who wear green gowns, don't you know? and go in for things—Herbert Spencer and all that sort of stuff, don't you know? I met her at a show a Johnny took me to for fun, a kind of literary club business. Then, next day I met her again by accident in the Park, and we walked round the Serpentine. You see, I'd never met a woman like that before. She lived in rooms by herself, like a man, and she had a latchkey.

"I wasn't in love with her," continued the ingenuous Mr. Dashwood, "but, somehow or another, before I'd known her ten days I was engaged to her. Awfully funny business. You see, she had a lot of mind of her own, and I admire intellect in a woman, and she was a right good sort. I told her all about my life, and she wanted me to lead a higher one. Said she never could marry me unless I did. The strange thing about her was she always made me feel as if I was in a Sunday school, though she wasn't pious in the least. As a matter of fact, she didn't believe in religion; that is to say, church, and all that; but she was a Socialist.

"Awfully strong on dividing up every one's money so that every one would have five pounds a week. I used to fight her over that, for she had three hundred a year of her own, and stuck to it; besides, I didn't see the force of making all the rotters in the world happy, and drunk, with five quid a week out of my pocket; but she never would give in; always had some card up her sleeve to trump me with.

"You see, I'm not a political Johnny, and hadn't studied up the question. But we never fought really over that. Men and women don't ever really fight over that sort of thing; and I'd always give in for a quiet life, and we'd go off and have tea at the British Museum and look at the mummies and the marbles and things, and after six months or so I got quite fond of her in a way, and I began to look forward to marrying her.

"I used to mug up Herbert Spencer and a chap called Marx, and I never looked at another woman, and scarcely ever made a bet: and it might have gone on to us getting two latchkeys only——"

Mr. Dashwood stopped.

"Only I met another girl," he went on. "That put me in a beastly position, and the long and short of it is I went on the razzle-dazzle from the botheration of it all. Miss H. found out, and she cut the knot herself. I'm glad to be free," finished Mr. Dashwood, "but I wish it had happened some other way. In fact, I wish I'd never met Miss H. at all."

"And who is the other girl?" asked Mr. French.

"Oh, you know her."

"I?"

"Yes; she's down at your place now."

"Not Miss Grimshaw?"

"Yes, Miss Grimshaw. And that's the reason I'm going down west. I want to see her and tell her all."

French whistled; then he laughed.

"You seem in mighty good spirits over her," said he. "How do you know she'll have anything to do with you? Have you asked her?"

"Asked her! No. How could I, when I was tied up like that? That's what drove me off my balance. But I'm going to ask her, and that's why I've come over to Ireland."

"Look here," said Mr. French.

"Yes?"

"You said when I met you in the hall you were going to put up at Mrs. Sheelan's. You're not. Come and stay at Drumgool, on one condition."

"What's that?"

"That you don't ask her. First of all, you haven't known her long enough; and she hasn't known you long enough to find out whether you are properly matched. Second, I'm not so sure that I'm not going to ask her myself."

"I beg your pardon," said Mr. Dashwood.

"Oh, you needn't beg my pardon. I'm just telling you what's in my mind. I'm so moithered with one thing and another, I've no heart for anything at present, but just this horse I told you about, you remember—Garryowen. And I'm not a man to stand between two young people if their minds are set on each other. But the question is, Are they? You care for her, but does she care for you? So, take an open field and no favour. Don't go sticking at Mrs. Sheelan's, seeing her maybe only once in a week, but come right to Drumgool. No proposing, mind you, or any of that rubbish. I'm giving you your chance fair and square, and I'm telling you fair and square it's in my mind that I may ask her myself. So, there you are. Take the offer or leave it."

Mr. Dashwood paused for a moment before this astonishing proposition, which upset all his preconceived ideas of love affairs; then the straightness and strangeness and sense of it went to his heart. Surely never had a man a more generous rival than this, and the sporting nature and the humour of it completed the business, and he held out his hand.

"Right," said he. "Another man would have acted differently. Yes, I'll come. And I'll play the game; get to know her better, and then, why, if she cares for me, it's the fortune of war."

"That's it," said French, "and now I want to tell you about the horse."

He gave the full history of his predicament, of the league, and the money worries, and the enemies who seemed bent on destroying his chance of success. "If I could only get the horse out of the country," said French. "But I can't."

"Can't you?" said Bobby, who had followed the tale with sparkling eyes and rising colour. "Who says you can't? I say you can, and I'll show you how."

He rose up and paced the floor.

"Don't speak to me. This is simply frabjous! Why, my dear chap, I've got just what you want."

"What's that?"

"A place where you can train half a dozen horses if you want to."

"Where?"

"Where? Why, down at Crowsnest, in Sussex. It's not my place; it belongs, 's'matter of fact, to Emmanuel Ibbetson. He's chucked horses, and he's going to pull the place down and rebuild when he comes back from Africa. I can get a loan of it for three or four months."

"What would the rent be?" asked Mr. French.

"Nothing. He'll lend me it. He's just now constructing a big-game expedition, and they start in a few days. I saw him only the day before yesterday at White's. Lucky, ain't it, that I thought of it? I'll wire to him now asking for the permit. The place is furnished all right; there's a caretaker in it. It's a bungalow with no end of fine stables. The Martens is the name of it."

"Begad," said Mr. French, "this is like Providence!"

"Isn't it? You hold on here, and I'll send the wire. I'll send it to his chambers in the Albany, and we'll have the reply back to-night or to-morrow morning."

When the wire was despatched, Mr. French proposed an adjournment to the Kildare-street Club, whither, accordingly, the two gentlemen took their way.

"If," said he, "we can pull this business off, I'll never forget it to you. You don't know what this means to me. It's not the money so much—though that's a good deal—but it's the outwitting and getting the better of those scoundrels, Dick Giveen and the rest of them. Even if your friend agrees to lend us this place, all our troubles aren't ended. I want to get the horse away without any one knowing where I'm taking him to. I'll have to take Moriarty and Andy and I can't leave Effie behind, for if I did I'd have to write to her, and they open the letters at the post-office in Cloyne, and even if they didn't open them they'd see the post-marks. I mustn't leave a clue behind me to tell where I'm gone to, and with that beast of a Giveen nosing about like a rat it'll be difficult rather; but we'll do it!"

"Yes," said Mr. Dashwood, "we'll do it."

The excitement of the business filled him with pleasurable anticipations; and he had not reckoned on Emmanuel Ibbetson in vain, for when they got back to the Shelbourne in the evening they found a wire from that gentleman. It only contained three words:

"Yes, with pleasure."

With this telegram there was another. It was from Miss Grimshaw, and it ran:

"Come back at once."