"You would like to see him, sir?"
Adrien nodded, and made his way to the stable, accompanied by the groom.
"No one else is allowed to enter the stable but yourself, Markham?" he
asked, as the man unlocked the door.
"No one, sir. I'm always here when he's being littered or fed. Not a
soul touches him without I'm at his side. He's in fine condition, sir; I
never saw him in better."
Adrien passed his hand over the satiny coat of the race-horse. The
dainty creature pricked up his finely-pointed ears, and turned to his
master with a whinny of delight.
"He looks well enough," he admitted. "Has he had his gallop this
morning?"
"Yes, sir; but would you like to see him across the paddock?"
"Yes," said Adrien. "By the way, who rides him to-morrow?"
"Peacock, sir."
"Ah, the new jockey."
"Yes, sir; Mr. Vermont's lad," returned the groom.
"A good seat?" asked Adrien.
"Capital, never saw a better, sir, and weighs next to nothing. I'll send
for him." He whistled, and half a dozen stable helpers rushing forward,
he despatched them to find the jockey. While waiting, the groom had the
precious "King" brought into the yard and saddled; and in a few moments
the man arrived.
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