But he had a friend, and as long as a man has a friend, however humble, he is not altogether in the hands of Fate. The girl sitting by the fire, knitting a red petticoat for old Mrs. Moriarty, had been exercising her busy mind for the past few days on the seeming hopelessness of the problem presented to her in French and his affairs. She had inherited a good deal of her father's business sharpness. She was not the niece of Simon Gretry for nothing, and a way out of the difficulty had presented itself before her; at least, she fancied it was a way.
At nine o'clock, after a look round the stables, Mr. French came in, and, sitting down in the arm-chair opposite the girl, opened the _Irish Times_ and began to read it, listlessly skimming the columns without finding anything of interest, moving restlessly in his chair, lighting his pipe and letting it go out again. Miss Grimshaw, without pausing in her rapid knitting or dropping a stitch, watched him.
Then she said, "Do you know I've been thinking?"
"That I've found a way out of your difficulty about Garryowen."
"And what's that?" asked French, who, since the affair of Effie, had conceived a deep respect for Miss Grimshaw's cleverness and perspicuity.
"Well, it's this way," said she. "That man Lewis is your stumbling-block."
"Call him my halter," said the owner of Garryowen, "for if ever a man had a blind horse in a halter, it's me and him."
"No, I will not call him any such thing. He's only a moneylender. You owe him the money. Garryowen will belong to him after the third of April. Well, let him have Garryowen."
"Let him have Garryowen, I say, but not until after the race."
"I mean this. Would it not be possible to take Garryowen away from here secretly? He does not belong to Mr. Lewis yet. Take him away to some lonely place, train him there, and run him for the race. If he wins, you will make money, won't you? And if he loses, why, he will belong to Mr. Lewis."
"That's not a bad idea," said he. "By George! it's good, if we could do it. Only, could we keep it hid?"
"Does Mr. Lewis know you are running him for the race?"
"No. He doesn't know I've got him, and the debt's not due till a fortnight before the event. And, by Jove! if he does see my name in the racing lists, he'll put it down as my cousin, Michael French's--the one Mr. Dashwood met--for Michael runs horses in England every day in the week, and his name's as well known as the Monument. Faith! and it's a bright idea, for I'd get rid of all this crew here at one sweep."