It was not till he had entered the room that the traveller took off the
rough outer coat, the collar of which had almost entirely concealed his
face. When he did so, he revealed the sallow countenance of Victor
Carrington, and the flashing black eyes, which to-night shone with a
peculiar brightness.
After he had eaten a hasty meal, he went out into the inn-yard, despite
the fast-falling snow, to smoke a cigar, he said, to one of the
servants whom he encountered on his way.
He had not been long in the yard, when a man emerged from one of the
adjacent buildings, and approached him in a slow and stealthy manner.
"All right, guv'nor," said the man, in a low voice; "I've been on the
look-out for you for the last two days."
The man was Jim Hawkins, Mr. Spavin's groom.
"Is 'Wild Buffalo' here?" asked Victor.
"Yes, sir; as safe and as comfortable as if he'd been foaled here."
"And none the worse for his journey?"
"Not a bit of it, sir. I brought him down by easy stages, knowing you
wanted him kept fresh. And fresh he is--oncommon. P'raps you'd like to
have a look at him."
"I should."
The groom led Mr. Carrington to a loose box, and the surgeon had the
pleasure of beholding the bay horse by the uncertain light of a stable
lantern.
The animal was, indeed, a noble specimen of his race.
It was only in the projecting eye-ball, the dilated nostril, the
defiant carriage of the head, that his evil temper exhibited itself.
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