“All three.”

“Yes, he’s the right sort, he is, sir; and if ever you feel disposed to sell him, I could, may be, find you a customer.”

Accepting this as a delicate intimation that Mr. Fortescue had taken a fancy to the horse and would like to buy him, I told Jim that I was quite willing to sell at a fair price.

“And what might you consider a fair price, if it is a fair question?” asked the man.

“A hundred guineas,” I answered; for, as I knew that Mr. Fortescue would not “look at a horse,” as Tawney put it, under that figure, it would have been useless to ask less.

“Very well, sir.  I will speak to my master, and let you know.”

Ranger, as I called the horse, was a purchase of Alston’s.  Liking his looks (though Bertie was really a very indifferent judge), he had bought him out of a hansom-cab for forty pounds, and after a little “schooling,” the creature took to jumping as naturally as a duck takes to water.  Sixty pounds may seem rather an unconscionable profit, but considering that Ranger was quite sound and up to weight, I don’t think a hundred guineas was too much.  A dealer would have asked a hundred and fifty.

At any rate, Mr. Fortescue did not think it too much, for Rawlings presently brought me word that his master would take the horse at the price I had named, if I could warrant him sound.

“In that case it is a bargain,” I said, “for I can warrant him sound.”

“All right, sir.  I’ll send one of the grooms over to your place for him to-morrow.”

Shortly afterward I fell in with Keyworth, and as a matter of course we talked about Mr. Fortescue.

“Do you know anything about him?” I asked.

“Not much.  I believe he is rich—­and respectable.”

“That is pretty evident, I think.”

“I am not sure.  A man who spends a good deal of money is presumably rich; but it by no means follows that he is respectable.  There are such people in the world as successful rogues and wealthy swindlers.  Not that I think Mr. Fortescue is either one or the other.  I learned, from the check he sent me for his subscription, who his bankers are, and through a friend of mine, who is intimate with one of the directors, I got a confidential report about him.  It does not amount to much; but it is satisfactory so far as it goes.  They say he is a man of large fortune, and, as they believe, highly respectable.”

“Is that all?”

“All there was in the report.  But Tomlinson—­that’s my friend—­has heard that he has spent the greater part of his life abroad, and that he made his money in South America.”

The mention of South America interested me, for I had made voyages both to Rio de Janeiro and several places on the Spanish Main.

“South America is rather vague,” I observed.  “You might almost as well say ‘Southern Asia.’  Have you any idea in what part of it?”

“Not the least.  I have told you all I know.  I should be glad to know more; but for the present it is quite enough for my purpose.  I intend to call upon Mr. Fortescue.”