'Make it fifteen and we might do business,' he suggested.
'No. eighteen guineas is my sum, and not a penny less,' said Jem.
The two men consulted together and appeared to disagree. Mary heard the word 'fake,' and Jem shot a glance at her over the heads of the crowd. A little murmur rose from the group of men beside him. Once more the lynx-eyed man bent and touched the legs of the black pony. 'I'd advise another opinion on this pony,' he said. 'I'm not satisfied about him myself. Where's your mark?'
Jew showed him the narrow slit in the ear and the man examined it closely.
'You're a sharp customer, aren't you?' said Jem. 'Anyone would think I'm stolen the horse. Anything wrong with the mark?'
'No, apparently not. But it's a good thing for you that Tim Bray has gone to Dorset. He's never own this pony, whatever you like to say. I wouldn't touch him. Stevens, if I were you. You'll find yourself in trouble. Come away, man.'
The loud-mouthed dealer looked regretfully at the black pony.
'He's a good looker,' he said. 'I don't care who bred him, or if his sire was piebald. What makes you so particular, Will?'
Once more the lynx-eyed man plucked at his sleeve and whispered in his ear. The dealer listened and pulled a face, and then he nodded. 'All right,' he said aloud: 'I've no doubt that you're right. You've got an eye for trouble, haven't you? Perhaps we're better out of it. You can keep your pony,' he added to Jem. 'My partner doesn't fancy him. Take my advice and come down on your price. If you have him for long on your hands you'll be sorry.' And he elbowed his way through the crowd, with the lynx-eyed man beside him, and they disappeared in the direction of the White Hart. Mary breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the last of them. She could make nothing of Jem's expression; his lips were framed in the inevitable whistle. People came and went; the shaggy moorland ponies were sold for two or three pounds apiece, and their late owners departed satisfied. No one came near the black pony again. He was looked at askance by the crowd. At a quarter to four Jem sold the other horse for six pounds to a cheerful, honest-looking farmer, after a long and very good-humoured argument. The farmer declared he would give five pounds, and Jem stuck out for seven. After twenty minutes riotous bargaining the sum of six pounds was agreed, and the farmer rode off on the back of his purchase with a grin from ear to ear. Mary began to flag on her feet. Twilight gathered in the market square, and the lamps were lit. The town wore an air of mystery. She was thinking of returning to the jingle when she heard a woman's voice behind her, and a high affected laugh. She turned and saw the blue cloak and the plumed hat of the woman who had stepped from the coach earlier in the afternoon. 'Oh, look, James,' she was saying. 'Did you ever see such a delicious pony in your life? He holds his head just like poor Beauty did. The likeness would be quite striking, only this animal of course is black and has nothing of Beauty's breeding. What a nuisance Roger isn't here. I can't disturb him from his meeting. What do you think of him, James?'
Her companion put up his eyeglass and stared. 'Damn it, Maria,' he drawled, 'I don't know a thing about horses. The pony you lost was a grey, wasn't it? This thing is ebony, positively ebony, my dear. Do you want to buy him?'
The woman gave a little trill of laughter. 'It would be such a good Christmas present for the children,' she said. 'They've plagued poor Roger ever since Beauty disappeared. Ask the price, James will you?'
The man strutted forward. 'Here, my good fellow,' he called to Jem, 'do you want to sell that black pony of yours?'
Jem shook his head. 'He's promised to a friend,' he said. 'I wouldn't like to go back on my word. Besides, this wouldn't carry you. He's been ridden by children.'
'Oh, really. Oh, I see. Oh, thank you. Maria, this fellow says the pony is not for sale.'
'Is he sure? What a shame! I'd set my heart on him. I'll pay him his price, tell him. Ask him again, James.'
Once more the man put up his glass and drawled, 'Look here, my man, this lady has taken a fancy to your pony. She has just lost one, and she wants to replace him. Her children will be most disappointed if they hear about it. Damn your friend, you know. He must wait. What is your price?'
'Twenty-five guineas,' said Jem promptly. 'At least, that's what my friend was going to pay. I'm not anxious to sell him.'
The lady in the plumed hat swept into the ring. 'I'll give you thirty for him,' she said. 'I'm Mrs. Bassat from North Hill, and I want the pony as a Christmas present for my children. Please don't be obstinate. I have half the sum here in my purse, and this gentleman will give you the rest. Mr. Bassat is in Launceston now, and I want the pony to be a surprise to him as well as to my children. My groom shall fetch the pony immediately and ride him to North Hill before Mr.
Bassat leaves the town. Here's the money.'
Jem swept off his hat and bowed low. 'Thank you, madam,' he said. 'I hope Mr. Bassat will be pleased with your bargain. You will find the pony exceedingly safe with children.'
'Oh, I'm certain he will be delighted. Of course the pony is nothing like the one we had stolen. Beauty was a thoroughbred, and worth a great deal of money. This little animal is handsome enough and will please the children. Come along, James; it's getting quite dark, and I'm chilled to the bone.'
She made her way from the ring towards the coach that waited in the square. The tall footman leapt forward to open the door. 'I've just bought a pony for Master Robert and Master Henry,' she said. 'Will you find Richards and tell him he's to ride it back home? I want it to be a surprise to the squire.' She stepped into the coach, her petticoats fluttering behind her, followed by her companion with the monocle.
Jem looked hastily over his shoulder and tapped a lad who stood behind him on the arm. 'Here,' he said, 'would you like a five-shilling piece?' The lad nodded, his mouth agape. 'Hang onto this pony, then, and, when the groom comes for him, hand him over for me, will you? I've just had word that my wife has given birth to twins and her life is in danger. I haven't a moment to lose. Here, take the bridle. A happy Christmas to you.'
And he was off in a moment, walking hard across the square, his hands thrust deep in his breeches pockets. Mary followed, a discreet ten paces behind. Her face was scarlet, and she kept her eyes on the ground. The laughter bubbled up inside her, and she hid her mouth in her shawl. She was near to collapsing when they reached the further side of the square, out of sight of the coach and the group of people, and she stood with her hand to her side, catching her breath. Jem waited for her, his face as grave as a judge.
'Jem Merlyn, you deserve to be hanged,' she said, when she had recovered herself. 'To stand there as you did in the market square and sell that stolen pony back to Mrs. Bassat herself! You have the cheek of the devil, and the hairs in my head have gone grey from watching you.'
He threw back his head and laughed, and she could not resist him. Their laughter echoed in the street until people turned to look at them, and they too caught the infection, and smiled, and broke into laughter; and Launceston itself seemed to rock in merriment as peal after peal of gaiety echoed in the street, mingling with the bustle and clatter of the fair; and with it all there was shouting, and calling, and a song from somewhere. The torches and the flares cast strange lights on the faces of people, and there was colour, and shadow, and the hum of voices, and a ripple of excitement in the air.
Jem caught at her hand and crumpled the fingers. 'You're glad you came now, aren't you?' he said, and 'Yes,' she said recklessly, and she did not mind.
They plunged into the thick of the fair, with all the warmth and the suggestion of packed humanity about them. Jem bought Mary a crimson shawl and gold rings for her ears. They sucked oranges beneath a striped tent and had their fortunes told by a wrinkled gypsy woman. 'Beware of a dark stranger,' she said to Mary, and they looked at one another and laughed again.
'There's blood in your hand, young man,' she told him. 'You'll kill a man one day'; and 'What did I tell you in the jingle this morning?' said Jem. 'I'm innocent as yet. Do you believe it now?' But she shook her head at him; she would not say. Little raindrops splashed onto their faces, and they did not care. The wind rose in gusts and billowed the fluttering tents, scattering paper and ribbons and silks; and a great striped booth shuddered an instant and crumpled, while apples and oranges rolled in the gutter. Flares streamed in the wind; the rain fell; and people ran hither and thither for shelter, laughing and calling to one another, the rain streaming from them.
Jem dragged Mary under cover of a doorway, his arms around her shoulders, and he turned her face against him and held her with his hands and kissed her. 'Beware of the dark stranger,' he said, and he laughed and kissed her again. The night clouds had come up with the rain, and it was black in an instant The wind blew out the flares,
