"Aye, aye," said Dunstan, very placably, "you do me justice, I
see. You know I'm a jewel for 'ticing people into bargains. For
which reason I advise you to let _me_ sell Wildfire. I'd ride him
to the hunt to-morrow for you, with pleasure. I shouldn't look so
handsome as you in the saddle, but it's the horse they'll bid for,
and not the rider."

"Yes, I daresay--trust my horse to you!"

"As you please," said Dunstan, rapping the window-seat again with
an air of great unconcern. "It's _you_ have got to pay Fowler's
money; it's none of my business. You received the money from him
when you went to Bramcote, and _you_ told the Squire it wasn't paid.
I'd nothing to do with that; you chose to be so obliging as to give
it me, that was all. If you don't want to pay the money, let it
alone; it's all one to me. But I was willing to accommodate you by
undertaking to sell the horse, seeing it's not convenient to you to
go so far to-morrow."

Godfrey was silent for some moments. He would have liked to spring
on Dunstan, wrench the whip from his hand, and flog him to within an
inch of his life; and no bodily fear could have deterred him; but he
was mastered by another sort of fear, which was fed by feelings
stronger even than his resentment. When he spoke again, it was in a
half-conciliatory tone.

"Well, you mean no nonsense about the horse, eh? You'll sell him
all fair, and hand over the money? If you don't, you know,
everything 'ull go to smash, for I've got nothing else to trust to.
And you'll have less pleasure in pulling the house over my head,