“I fear not; I very much fear not. I would advise Mr. Fudby to have a proclamation posted up round the country.” He sat back with the air of one who has contributed his share to the work, and does not intend to offer any more help.

“Ho!” growled Mr. Fudby. He blew out his cheeks. “ ’Twill be a grievous expense, though I suppose it must be done, and I cannot but feel that if it had not been for your deplorably cowardly conduct, Chilter⁠—yes, cowardly conduct, I say⁠—I might never have been robbed of my two hundred!” He snuffled a little, and eyed the flushed but silent Chilter with mingled reproach and scorn. “However, my coachman assures me he could swear to the horse again, although he cannot remember much about the man himself. Chilter! How did he describe the horse?”

“Oh⁠—er⁠—chestnut, Mr. Fudby⁠—chestnut, with a half-moon of white on its forehead, and one white foreleg.”