Frank led Storyteller into the corral where the head groom, Phillips, stood with Al-Hattal. The nostrils flared on both horses as they picked up one another's scent across the distance separating them. Al-Hattal shook his head and snorted with great dignity and power. Storyteller only glanced at the stud with large nervous eyes and walked in circles around Frank using the opportunity to size up the larger stallion. Al-Hattal stamped the ground and reared, more concerned about the invasion of his territory than engaging the mare. Storyteller walked to the gate she had entered moments before. Frank shrugged and said,

"Well, you've met each other anyway."

Phillips replied from his side of the corral, "It looks like they're a little nervous."

Frank thought it looked like Phillips was a little nervous as well. After all, the groom could have done more to calm the stallion. Storyteller was only reacting to Al-Hattal's anxiety.

Frank opened the gate and led the mustang out. He had other business to conduct and he said over his shoulder to Phillips, "We'll try again later."

Phillips made no reply. Frank wondered if the groom's case of nerves were simply over his responsibility to Lady Davenport's prize stallion or had she told Phillips to discourage the match. 'An interesting combination', she had called it. Frank who had not been particularly interested in breeding the mustang with Al-Hattal, now wanted it to happen. Frank decided this case was a matter of pride.

He saddled the mustang, climbed up, and they walked across the yard toward the long drive leading out of Davenport Manor. He tipped his hat to Lady Davenport who was walking out to the corral, obviously surprised to see Frank leaving. She walked up to Phillips, who was watching the cowboy's exit enviously, and asked,

"Where is Mr. Hopkins going, Phillips?"

"To get a drink I imagine. It doesn't look like the two horses are going to mate."

Lady Davenport said haughtily, "Oh yes. Good." Phillips glanced up at his employer and she explained what she thought would have been obvious to her head groom, "Of course they won't mate, the match is too unequal. It is ludicrous to even try."

Phillips crossed his arms on his chest as he said, "Mr. Hopkins plans to try again later."

Lady Davenport said argumentatively, "Let him! The result will be the same." She held her head higher as she looked upon Al-Hattal, who was now calmly munching on oats, saying "A king does not share his name with the slave."

Phillips wisely said nothing.

Frank was relieved to leave the manor. It was like leaving a smoke filled room and stepping into fresh air. His aim was to find Lord Wellingham and speak with him.

Lord Wellingham's footman opened the massive front door and looked first at Frank's attire. His eyes lingered on the cowboy's boots and then his gaze traveled back up to Frank's face which plainly said he didn't care what the footman thought about his clothes and he was not there on pretense. The footman asked,

"May I help you, sir?"

Frank replied, "Hi there, yes, I'd like to speak with Mr. . .excuse me, I mean Lord Wellingham please."

"Is he expecting you, Mr. . .?"

"Hopkins, Frank Hopkins, and no, he is not expecting me, but I still would like to speak with him."

"Yes, sir, please step inside."

Frank took off his hat and stepped into the foyer, noting the elegant difference between this and the Davenport Manor. He stood some minutes before the footman returned saying,

"If you'll follow me, sir. Lord Wellingham sys if you will wait in his library, he will receive you there."

Frank walked into the room saying, "Thanks."

The room he was deposited in was substantial, bookcases stretching from floor to ceiling along two walls were filled to capacity. Frank was impressed. He smiled wondering if Wellingham had ever read Mr. Teague's stories about Wild Bill. A globe stood near the long window. Frank walked over to it and found South Dakota, then traced his way to Arabia, he was about to add England to his imaginary course when the door opened and Lord Wellingham entered, resplendent wearing his silk smoking jacket.

He said sternly, "Good afternoon, Mr. Hopkins. Calculating how many miles you have covered in the last few years?"

The man was refreshingly blunt. Frank liked that quality and grinned, "As a matter of fact, I was."

Lord Wellingham walked over to his desk and pulled out a bottle asking, "Brandy, Mr. Hopkins?"

"Sure, why not?" Frank answered and walked over to receive his tumbler. Lord Wellingham then sat down in the leather chair closest to him, comfortably crossed his legs and asked,

"Now, what can I do for you?"

Frank motioned towards another chair within easy speaking distance and Lord Wellingham replied, "By all means."

Frank sat down, but instead of relaxing he leaned forward and said, "I can tell Mr. . .Lord Wellingham you're a straight forward man. It was pretty obvious to me the other day, that you don't exactly feel," Frank paused remembering the word Jazira had used, "gracious towards Lady Davenport."

Lord Wellingham's face grew cold and he seemed to have grown taller all of a sudden, but Frank continued, "I share your feelings. As you know, I was in Arabia the same time Lady Davenport was, and I was just wondering if her husband is aware of her infidelity?"

Lord Wellingham choked on his brandy and stared across at Frank before breaking out in a deep rolling laugh. Frank smiled, his first impression had been right, he had a good eye for people.

After regaining his composure, Lord Wellingham commented, "And you said I was straight forward. Here I was thinking that you were. . .Why, did Lady Davenport proposition you too?"

Frank refrained from answering, but grinned asking, "Is that why the Major stays away from home?"

Lord Wellingham turned serious and he said gravely, "I am a friend to Major Davenport, have been for years, good man. A trifle near sighted, if you catch my meaning, but a good, decent, respectable man. No, the Major stays away because his wife is so extravagant. She spends money as fast as it comes in with her races, on her horses, in that Manor, her trips to Arabia. She spent thousands alone, on that Bedouin Race."

Frank put in, "I happen to know for a fact that she put in 40 of the $100,000 purse for losing the race."

Lord Wellingham got up, poured himself another brandy, lifted the bottle in invitation to Frank who shook his head in refusal. Lord Wellingham sat down and said over his tumbler,

"Sheer lunacy."

Frank asked, "Are you telling me the Davenports are in financial trouble?"

Lord Wellingham's brow wrinkled in consternation, causing Frank to add quickly, "I only ask because I happen to be in a position to offer help. Help, in the form of a business proposition for which I am willing to pay a hefty sum. On the condition, I conduct it with Major Davenport."

Lord Wellingham pondered this information and looked at Frank asking, "Don't trust Lady Davenport do you?"

Frank cocked his head and replied, "Do you?"

"Not on my life," was Wellingham's answer. He was silent a moment then asked, "You're after the stallion, is that it?"

Frank replied decisively, "I'm not going back to America without him."

Lord Wellingham considered the situation then said, "You may get him. The Major did hear rumors about his wife's indiscretion on her last trip to Arabia. He's been staying in Liverpool ever since."

Frank asked, "How far away is that?"

Lord Wellingham answered, "A good day's ride."

Frank grinned, "Is that all?"