"Do you think I can ever forget the glorious day when you drove
over in your coach and four, and carried me off in triumph, and
how we raced the white-hatted fellow in the tilbury--?"

"And beat him!" added Sir Richard.

"Took off his near wheel on the turn," said I.

"The fool's own fault," said Sir Richard.

"And left him in the ditch, cursing us!" said I.

"Egad, yes, Peter! Oh, but those were fine horses and though I
say it, no better team in the south country. You'll remember the
'off wheeler' broke his leg shortly after and had to be shot,
poor devil."

"And later, at Oxford," I began.

"What now, Peter?" said Sir Richard, frowning darkly.

"Do you remember the bronze vase that used to stand on the
mantelpiece in my study?"

"Bronze vase?" repeated Sir Richard, intent upon his whip again.

"I used to find bank-notes in it after you had visited me,
and when I hid the vase they turned up just the same in most
unexpected places."