“Tish, man! You’re a ghoul.”

Arrived at the gate giving entry to Green Swamp Paddock and the road to Opal Town, Bill the Better swung it open sufficiently to permit them to pass and then reclosed it. The great black gelding now stared at them with wide, white-rimmed eyes, his ears flattened and his legs iron-stiff, a beautiful horse and yet the devil incarnate. Without hesitation, Young Lacy walked to it and caught up the broken and trailing reins.

“Didn’t The Black Emperor have a neck-rope on him when Mr Handerson left yesterday morning?” asked Young Lacy.

“ ’Angedif I know. Mr Handerson usually put a neck-rope on this little dove.”

Two pairs of expert eyes focused their gaze carefully to examine the horse.

“Only damage I can see is the reins,” said Bill the Better. “ ’Emusta chucked Mr Handerson clear and then, most likely went back to finish ’imorfwith ’is teeth and ’is hoofs. Ah well! Them thatarsts for it generally gits it sooner or later. Betcher a quid, even money, Mr Handerson’s lying quite cold.”

“You don’t like Mr Handerson, do you, Bill?” Young Lacy said it more as a statement of fact than a question. He was looking into the saddle-bag at the folded serviette that had been wrapped about the missing man’s lunch.

“Oh, I like ’imwell enough when I’m liable to make money outer ’im. Other times I don’t feel particular brotherly.”

“Well-no good standing here. You nip out for the horses, Bill. I’ll put The Black Emperor into the yards and then call the boss.”

“Righto, Mr Lacy. Better leave me outer the search party, ’cosif I seen Mr Handerson lying hurt I might pass ’imwith me eyes shut.”

“Pleasant little blighter,” murmured Young Lacy, crossing back to the house after having put the gelding into the yards. He found his father drinking coffee in his room preparatory to dressing and going to meet the men gathered outside the office waiting for their orders. A tall, well-set-up man despite his seventy years, his keen grey eyes bored into those of his son.