All at once it occurred to Pacey that Mr. Spraggon was the purchaser, and that he was only a middle-man.  His headache forsook him for the moment, and he felt a new man.  It was clearly the case, and bit by bit he recollected all about it.  How Jack had told him to challenge the horse, and he would stand to the bargain; how he had whispered him (Pacey) to name him (Jack) arbitrator; and how he had done so, and Jack had made the award.  Then he began to think that the horse must be a good one, as Jack would not set too high a price on him, seeing that he was the purchaser.  Then he wondered that he had put enough on to induce Sponge to sell him:  that rather puzzled him.  He lay a long time tossing, and proing and coning, without being able to arrive at any satisfactory solution of the matter.  At last he rang his bell, and finding it was eight o’clock he got up, and proceeded to dress himself; which operation being accomplished, he sought Jack’s room, to have a little confidential conversation with him on the subject, and arrange about paying Sponge for the horse, without letting out who was the purchaser.

Jack was snoring, with his great mouth wide open, and his grizzly head enveloped in a white cotton nightcap.  The noise of Pacey entering awoke him.

‘Well, old boy’ growled he, turning over as soon as he saw who it was, ‘what are you up to?’

‘Oh, nothing particular,’ replied Mr. Pacey, in a careless sort of tone.

‘Then make yourself scarce, or I’ll baptize you in a way you won’t like,’ growled Jack, diving under the bedclothes.

’Oh, why I just wanted to have—­have half a dozen words with you about our last night’s’ (ha—­hem—­haw!) ’handicap, you know—­about the horse, you know.’

‘About the w-h-a-w-t?’ drawled Jack, as if perfectly ignorant of what Pacey was talking about.

’About the horse, you know—­about Mr. Sponge’s horse, you know—­that you got me to challenge for you, you know,’ stammered Pacey.

‘Oh, dash it, the chap’s drunk,’ growled Jack aloud to himself, adding to Pacey, ‘you shouldn’t get up so soon, man—­sleep the drink off.’

Pacey stood nonplussed.

‘Don’t you remember, Mr. Spraggon,’ at last asked he, after watching the tassel of Jack’s cap peeping above the bedclothes, ’what took place last night, you know?  You asked me to get you Mr. Sponge’s chestnut, and you know I did, you know.’

‘Hout, lad, disperse!—­get out of this!’ exclaimed Jack, starting his great red face above the bedclothes and squinting frightfully at Pacey.

‘Well, my dear friend, but you did,’ observed Pacey soothingly.

‘Nonsense!’ roared Jack, again ducking under.

Pacey stood agape.

‘Come!’ exclaimed Jack, again starting up, ’cut your stick!—­be off!—­make yourself scarce!—­give your rags a gallop, in short!—­don’t be after disturbin’ a gen’leman of fortin’s rest in this way.’