was his own. I knew Master Dunsey was up to his tricks sometimes.
But where can he be gone? He's never been seen at Batherley. He
couldn't have been hurt, for he must have walked off."

"Hurt?" said Godfrey, bitterly. "He'll never be hurt--he's
made to hurt other people."

"And so you _did_ give him leave to sell the horse, eh?" said
Bryce.

"Yes; I wanted to part with the horse--he was always a little too
hard in the mouth for me," said Godfrey; his pride making him wince
under the idea that Bryce guessed the sale to be a matter of
necessity. "I was going to see after him--I thought some
mischief had happened. I'll go back now," he added, turning the
horse's head, and wishing he could get rid of Bryce; for he felt
that the long-dreaded crisis in his life was close upon him.
"You're coming on to Raveloe, aren't you?"

"Well, no, not now," said Bryce. "I _was_ coming round there,
for I had to go to Flitton, and I thought I might as well take you
in my way, and just let you know all I knew myself about the horse.
I suppose Master Dunsey didn't like to show himself till the ill
news had blown over a bit. He's perhaps gone to pay a visit at the
Three Crowns, by Whitbridge--I know he's fond of the house."

"Perhaps he is," said Godfrey, rather absently. Then rousing
himself, he said, with an effort at carelessness, "We shall hear of
him soon enough, I'll be bound."