CHAPTER XXVIII 



A CONVERT TO SOCIALISM 



When Bobby had sufficiently rested himself 



he took the car to the inn at Crowsnest and put 



it up, and then came back to The Martens, where 



a bed was made up for him, and where he slept 



the sleep of the just for ten hours, reappearing 



at haK-past nine that night for some supper and 



a pipe. Then he retired to rest and put another 



ten hours of slumber behind him, awakening in 



the morning a new man. 



Nothing important came by the post, only a 



few circulars and a post-card effusively thanking 



Miss Grimshaw for some flowers which she had 



sent to a female friend. As the day wore on, and 



as nothing appeared in the form of a bailiff, the 



hopes of the party rose steadily. Mr Dash wood 



had suggested that the horse should be taken 



right away to Epsom, but French was too old 



a practitioner to make such a false move as that. 



For if a baihff arrived and found the horse gone it 



would be the easiest thing in the world to track 



him. You cannot entrain a race-horse without 



the fact being known. Even if he were ridden 



up to London a telegram would have to be sent 



on to get a horse-box for the journey to Epsom. 

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