Some few hours later, panting and throbbing, the Daimler motor drew up in the Castle courtyard--Adrien and his friends had arrived for the great steeplechase.
Attracted by the sound of the barking dogs, who apparently disliked the unaccustomed monster--Lord Barminster himself invariably using horses--Lady Constance stepped from her room on to the balcony which looked down upon the courtyard beneath. The gentlemen's hats flew off in greeting, and, as Adrien looked up, an unusual thrill ran through him as he noted the simple beauty of the girl above him.
"We thought we'd left the sun behind us, Constance, but evidently 'she' is still overhead," he said, smiling.
She looked down with mock reproof, playfully shaking at him a flower which she held in her hand.
"I thought compliments were out of date, Adrien. Have you enjoyed your drive?"
"Not half so much as the welcome," was the courteous reply, as he caught the rose which she had let fall.
She laughed, and blushed a little, then turned to the other members of the party, who had now alighted from the car.
"Ah, Lord Standon, I did not know you were coming." Then, as that young man's face lengthened, she added quickly: "Unexpected pleasures are always welcome. I am glad to see you, Mr. Paxhorn."
After a word of greeting to Mortimer Shelton, she drew back into her room; while the men, laughing and chatting, passed into the great hall, where they found Lord Barminster awaiting them. His stern face softened into a welcome, as, with outstretched hand, he came forward to greet his guests.
"Ah, Shelton!" he said, "so you keep my boy company, and you, Paxhorn and Standon. Gentlemen, you are welcome--though there's no need to remind you of that, I know. Adrien," turning to his son, "you have a fine day, did you drive or ride?"
"We motored down, sir," answered the young man, in his soft, melodious voice.
His father frowned slightly. He heartily detested all modern innovations, and would never hold that motors--or, indeed, any increased facilities for travelling--were improvements. "They breed discontent, sir," he would declaim vigorously. "In my young days people were content to stay in the place in which they had been born, and do their duty. Now, forsooth, they must see this country and that, and visit a dozen places in the year, where their grandparents visited one. Anything for an excuse to fritter away their hard-earned savings!"
On this occasion, however, he made no comment, but turned to Mortimer Shelton.
"You'll find the roads here better suited for horses than for oil-cans," he said grimly. "We are primitive, as you know."
Shelton laughed; but he knew his host's ideas on this subject, and was apt to respect them.
"So much the better, sir," he said in a cheerful tone; "I am a bit tired of the smell of petrol myself. Give me Nature without a corset."
"You'll certainly get that here," Lord Barminster replied, favouring his young guest with an approving glance.
Shortly afterwards, they made their way to the morning-room. Here, luncheon had been laid, and Lord Barminster, Miss Penelope, with Lady Constance, were awaiting them. The little party sat down to table, each one secretly only too ready for the meal; for the ride through the fresh, country air had been a fairly long one.
"I was really hungry, Constance," Adrien said, with his low, careless laugh. "There must be magic in the air of Barminster."
"Yet still you come here so seldom," returned his cousin gently.
"Business and the cares of State," quoted Adrien, with a smile. "But I might retaliate. Why do we not see you up in town? Society misses one of its brightest stars."
Lady Constance toyed idly with the grapes on her plate; then she looked up.
"Society has many brighter lights than I, Adrien," she said quietly. "But now, tell me about the race--auntie is terribly anxious over it; are you not, dear?"
"Yes, my love," returned Miss Penelope, who, in reality, hardly knew one horse from another.
"Oh, Adrien always wins," put in Lord Standon. "That's a foregone conclusion. Have you seen the 'King' lately, Lady Constance?"
"Oh, yes," she replied, "He is exercised in the paddock every morning, and is in fine form."
Adrien smiled.
"Poor 'King Cole'; he'll be worth his weight in gold if he wins to-morrow! What about the other horses, Stan; are they down?"
"Yes," replied Lord Standon; "my man saw some of them at the station; but no sign of the Yorkshire chestnut."
"So much the better," said Adrien; "perhaps his owner has thought discretion the better part of valour and withdrawn him."
The conversation then flowed into other channels; Paxhorn provoking roars of merriment by his stories and epigrams. Presently the ladies withdrew; Lady Constance to prepare for a ride with Adrien, which he had just suggested, and Miss Penelope to rest her "nerves."
While waiting for his cousin to rejoin him Adrien crossed over to the window, which commanded a view of the Castle entrance, and stood gazing idly down. Outside stood a smart motor, and from it was alighting the trim figure of Jasper Vermont.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed, "I had forgotten Jasper."
He tapped at the window, and waved his hand in affectionate greeting to his friend, who looked up with his most amiable smile, as he brushed aside the servants who had hurried out to meet him.
There are people who are served well from sheer force of personality, and who, though neither generous nor unselfish themselves, yet contrive to abstract the very essence of these qualities from those around them; and of these Jasper Vermont was one. His tips were few, though he was lavish in smiles and honeyed words; yet not one of the retinue of servants at Barminster Castle but would fly to attend to his wants, as they would those of Adrien or Lord Barminster himself.
A few minutes later he strolled into the room where the rest of the guests were seated. As he did so Lord Barminster involuntarily drew himself up with a slight frown. He had hoped that the "adventurer," as he invariably termed him, would remain in town and not thrust his unwelcome presence upon the guests at the Castle. But, in another minute, his natural courtesy reasserted itself; and, though it was patent to the least observant that the new arrival was not as welcome as he might have been, he answered Jasper's amiable inquiry as to his health politely enough.
"Thank you, Mr. Vermont," he said grimly, "I am quite well. But you, I fear, are an invalid."
His sharp eyes glanced towards the closed motor, which was gliding round the bend of the drive.
"No, sir, I am quite well, I assure you," Jasper replied, meekly, as if unconscious of any irony.
"But I have learned enough wisdom to feel convinced that all journeys, including that of life itself, should be taken as comfortably as possible. I prefer, therefore, to have the dust and smell outside the car instead of in. Am I not right?"
"Perfectly," returned his opponent, with a sarcastic smile; "you should surely know your own constitution best. It was an unfortunate error on my part."
At this moment, Adrien, who had been listening to the point-and-thrust conversation, exceedingly ill at ease, intervened, and under some pretext drew his father out with him into the corridor.
"I do detest that fellow so," said the old man apologetically, as though ashamed at having displayed his feelings.
"It's a pity, sir," returned Adrien, respectfully; for his father was the only person who dared say a word in disfavour of his friend. "He takes any amount of pains to save me trouble."
"Well, it pays him," retorted Lord Barminster dryly; then with a wave of the hand as if to dismiss an unpleasant subject, he added, "You're off to the stables, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir," replied Adrien, "I want to have a look at 'King Cole.'" With a friendly nod, he ran lightly down the wide oak staircase and disappeared in the direction of the stables.
For a few moments Lord Barminster stood gazing after him, his stern face relaxed, his keen eyes softened. Adrien was more to him than all his possessions, which were vast enough to have provided for a dozen sons. Therefore, he denied him nothing, however extravagant or reckless in price, and refrained from any comment on his line of conduct.
CHAPTER IX
Adrien's appearance in the stable-yard was the signal for much excitement among the hands there; and presently the head groom made his appearance, struggling into his coat, while coughing with embarrassed respect.
"Good morning, Markham," said his master with a nod; "where's the 'King'?"
"In the south stable, sir," replied the man, as he fumbled in his pocket for the keys. "You would like to see him, sir?"
Adrien nodded, and made his way to the stable, accompanied by the groom.
"No one else is allowed to enter the stable but yourself, Markham?" he asked, as the man unlocked the door.
"No one, sir. I'm always here when he's being littered or fed. Not a soul touches him without I'm at his side. He's in fine condition, sir; I never saw him in better."
Adrien passed his hand over the satiny coat of the race-horse. The dainty creature pricked up his finely-pointed ears, and turned to his master with a whinny of delight.
"He looks well enough," he admitted. "Has he had his gallop this morning?"
"Yes, sir; but would you like to see him across the paddock?"
"Yes," said Adrien. "By the way, who rides him to-morrow?"
"Peacock, sir."
"Ah, the new jockey."
"Yes, sir; Mr. Vermont's lad," returned the groom.
"A good seat?" asked Adrien.
"Capital, never saw a better, sir, and weighs next to nothing. I'll send for him." He whistled, and half a dozen stable helpers rushing forward, he despatched them to find the jockey. While waiting, the groom had the precious "King" brought into the yard and saddled; and in a few moments the man arrived. Markham had called him a lad; but in reality he was almost middle-aged, with the stunted stature of a child. Adrien looked him over critically.
"So you ride the 'King' to-morrow?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," replied the dwarf humbly.
"Let me see you take him round the paddock," said Adrien. The man threw off his coat, showing himself to be in shabby riding costume; then, vaulting into the saddle, he took the racer to the meadow at the back of the stable-yard. Adrien watched the bird-like flight of the superb animal, and nodded approvingly when he presently returned to the starting-point.
"You'll do," he said, as the jockey dismounted; "ride like that to-morrow, and we shall win. There is something for you, but no drinking, mind."
He held out a ten-pound note as he spoke. The man stared at it for a moment, then crouching almost like a dog, took it gingerly by the edge.
"Don't be afraid, man; one would think you expected a blow," said Adrien, with a smile.
Touching his forelock, the man took the note, and Adrien turned away. As he walked out of the stable-yard he happened to glance back at Markham, who was re-covering the "King," and he saw that the jockey was still gazing after him, with a tense, almost longing expression in his small, deep-set eyes.
"Poor devil!" said Leroy to himself as he went up the drive, "I must get Jasper to do something for him, especially if he wins--I only hope he doesn't get drunk!"
In the courtyard Lady Constance's horse and his own were waiting for him and in a few moments the girl herself appeared, accompanied by the ever-smiling Jasper Vermont.
Blessed by nature with a good figure, Art, as represented by French modistes and Redfern, had put the finishing touches, with the result that Lady Constance Tremaine, whether in evening dress or the blue cloth riding-habit of the field, was a joy to the eye. As she stood now, waiting Adrien's approach, he could not help mentally contrasting her natural, spiritual type of beauty with the made-up and coarsened charms of Ada Lester, and he wondered how he could have been so blind as not to notice it before.
He was not the only one who admired her. Jasper Vermont had elected himself as the girl's chief slave, and whenever he was at Barminster Castle invariably managed to carry out her lightest whims--indeed, would even endeavour to forestall them. Now it was he who attended to her saddle, and helped her into it before Adrien had fully realised what he was about to do; and for once Leroy experienced just the least feeling of resentment towards his devoted friend.
For a while the two rode almost in silence; but after the first canter Adrien reined up his horse close to that of his companion. Lady Constance purposely brought the conversation round to his estates, for, with all his dissipation and languor, Leroy was no indifferent landlord, and Lord Barminster invariably referred all complaints--such few as there were--to his son.
"I'm sorry you would not renew the lease for Farmer Darrell," she said gently; "he is almost heart-broken at having to leave Briar Farm."
Adrien pulled up his horse sharply.
"Farmer Darrell to leave Briar Farm!" he said quickly. "What do you mean, Constance?"
She looked at him steadily, as she replied:
"I rode over there yesterday, and found them all in great trouble. They told me Mr. Vermont, acting under your orders, had refused to grant them new leases. I promised to speak to Uncle Phillip; but you know how angry he gets whenever any one mentions Mr. Vermont's name, so I thought I would ask you myself." She blushed crimson, as if at her own boldness. "Of course, you mustn't do it just on my account, but--"
"Mustn't I?" interrupted her cousin, looking keenly, almost affectionately at the slim, girlish figure, and pretty piquant face. "I should certainty grant whatever you asked me if it lay in my power. As a matter of fact, however, I think Jasper said that, as they were unable to make Briar Farm pay, would I lower the rent; and as that would be creating a precedent for all the other tenants--I refused."
Lady Constance nodded her head. "Quite right," she agreed; "but I happen to know that the farm does pay splendidly, and--"
"In any case, Constance," interrupted Adrien, almost tenderly, "it is quite sufficient, if you wish it so. But I think--I am sure--Jasper must have made a mistake."
Lady Constance did not reply, but wisely changed the subject; she was too clever to pursue her advantage, and she had gained her point--sown the least little doubt of Mr. Jasper Vermont's rectitude in Adrien's mind.
Meanwhile, Mr. Vermont had also betaken himself to the stables; but he did not ask to see "King Cole"--contenting himself with beaming admiringly on Mr. Markham, while the head groom held forth on all the precautions he was taking with regard to the precious animal's safety.
"An' if he's got at, Mr. Vermont, sir, I'll eat my head," was his parting speech.
In reply to which Mr. Vermont murmured inaudibly, as he walked away: "It's a lucky job, my good fellow, that I shan't make you keep your word!"
At the end of the plantation, beyond the stable buildings, there was a little cottage attached to the straw-yard. Having reached this, Jasper listened attentively; then, without any warning knock, he lifted the latch, and entered.
To all appearances the room was empty, save for some pieces of poor furniture. But the visitor, blinking at the sudden transition from light to darkness, walked over to a rough couch, where lay the misshapen jockey Peacock, either asleep or deep in thought. Jasper shook him angrily by the shoulder, and a sullen scowl darkened the little monkey-like face as he recognised his visitor.
"Well?" he said gruffly, without attempting to change his position.
"Short, and not polite!" retorted Jasper, shaking him again. "Didn't I tell you I'd come here to-day, you imp of darkness?"
"You did, guv'nor," the man replied sullenly.
"Well, here I am. You're not drunk, are you? Here--let's look at you." With a cruel smile, the soft, amiable Mr. Vermont seized the ear of the dwarfed jockey and dragged him to the light. "No, not drunk--for a wonder. Well, you know what to do to-morrow?"
The man nodded sulkily.
"Tighten and choke off at the last hurdle. Mind you do it neatly, too. Youcando it, I know; and it won't be the first little affair you've sold, eh? You sold one too many, though, when you crossed my path, and you know what will happen if you fail me."
"All right," the jockey muttered hoarsely.
"I hope it will be all right," said his persecutor, shaking him gently to and fro by the ear. "If not, you'll find yourself in the care of a paternal Government--I tell you--picking oakum."
The man gave a sudden jerk and released himself from the cruel grasp; then he looked up almost piteously.
"Must we do it, guv'nor?" he said hoarsely. "I've seen 'im----"
"Him! whom, you idiot?"
"Him--Mr. Leroy--as we're to sell."
"You're to sell, you mean, you gallows-bird," returned Jasper.
The man eyed him viciously.
"Yus," he growled, "you think you're going to git off scot-free, don't yer? What if I don't do it? He giv' me a tenner, he did. 'E's a real gent. What if I don't do it?" he repeated.
Mr. Vermont's eyes narrowed till he looked like a snake about to strike. Raising the riding-whip which he had in his hand, he seized the wretched creature once more, and brought the whip down again and again on his almost skeleton body.
"Play me false, you hound, and I'll kill you," he almost hissed; and, half beside himself with pain and rage, the jockey gasped brokenly:
"Stop! stop! I'll do it."
It was just five o'clock when Lady Constance and Leroy returned from their ride. During the course of it Adrien had realised something of his cousin's beauty of character, as well as of face. Until that day he had only regarded her as a younger sister, pretty, perhaps, in a quiet, retiring way, but nothing more. Now, as he lifted her down from the saddle, he could have bent and reverently kissed the little foot that lodged so lightly in the stirrup.
Woman-like, she was quick to notice the change in him, and her heart beat high with hope.
"He will love me yet," she whispered to herself triumphantly, as, with outward calmness, she bade himau revoirtill they should meet at dinner.
Adrien went straight to his own rooms. An unusual restlessness was upon him, and his pulses throbbed wildly, but as yet he did not understand what these things meant. He, who had played the lover so lightly all his life, did not realise that it was now his turn to feel Cupid's dart, and that he was becoming as deeply enamoured of his pretty cousin as any raw boy straight from college.
As he paced up and down his luxurious study, thoughtfully smoking a cigar, his past life rose before him, with all its idleness and wasted years. He knew that with most women he had only to throw down the glove for it to be snatched up eagerly; women had loved him, petted and spoilt him ever since he could remember. But here was one who thought of him as nothing but a means to save her people--or, rather, his people---from distress. It said much for Lady Constance's powers of reserve that she had impressed him thus, and had she known it, nothing could have helped her cause more.
Throwing himself into a chair, the young man reviewed again the incidents of their ride. How beautiful she had looked; how pointedly and yet gently she had reproved him for his long absences from his estates and the people who loved him. Well, it should come to an end now, and there and then he formed a resolve to return to town directly after the race, and go through his affairs with Jasper. His friend would help him to lead a worthier and more useful life, he thought--if any one could do so.
When he went down to dinner that night few would have noticed any difference in his calm face and demeanour; none, indeed, save Lady Constance herself, who, with the subtlety which seems inbred in even the best of her sex, devoted her attention almost exclusively to Mr. Jasper Vermont. It was he who was allowed to sit next her at dinner; it was to him she turned when the race, with which all present were concerned, was the subject under discussion.
Adrien noted all this, and his heart grew heavy within him. But he did not grudge Jasper her favour--as yet; he blamed himself too deeply for the neglect of his past opportunities.
Jasper skilfully turned the conversation to Lady Merivale's ball, which he described in detail to Lady Constance; adding many little realistic touches concerning the fair hostess and Adrien, till he had convinced her--as he thought--that there was a great deal more between them than was really the case. For Vermont, as had been said before, was "no fool"; and he realised only too well in what direction events were tending with Lady Constance and her cousin.
But she showed no signs either of understanding or misunderstanding his allusions to Adrien, and began to discuss a ball which Miss Penelope was trying to arrange.
"Mr. Shelton, I am counting on you to help us," she said, turning to the gentleman on her other side. "Auntie has been besieging uncle for the last two months; and has, I think, carried the citadel."
"What is the motive of the attack?" inquired Mortimer Shelton.
"Aunt Penelope wants a fancy dress dance in the ball-room in the east wing," she returned gaily, adding, as she looked across at her cousin, who was listening attentively: "Adrien, if you would add your word, we should get it. Won't you do so?"
"A fancy dress ball here?" he replied. "But if my father has refused you, it is scarcely likely that I shall have any more influence." He turned to his aunt. "Why not have Barminster House, Aunt Penelope?" This was the town house, supposed to be given up almost exclusively to the young man's use, though he generally inhabited his own chambers in Jermyn Street. "I will hand it over to you from cellar to attic, and will bind myself to be your faithful slave from early morn to dewy eve."
His aunt laughed.
"No, thank you, Adrien, I know your idea of slavery," she said. "You would hand it over to Mr. Vermont, and he does quite enough of your work already." Vermont was a favourite with Miss Penelope, owing chiefly to his frequent gifts ofmarron glacés--a great weakness of hers. "Besides," she continued, "Barminster House is too modern. I want to revive a ball, just as it happened two or three centuries ago. It must be Barminster Castle or nothing."
Adrien smiled across at her.
"Your word is law, my dear aunt; but if I were you, and it comes off at all, I'd leave the arranging of it to Jasper."
Mr. Vermont beamed. Nothing seemed to please him so much as the idea of work, especially when it involved the spending of money other than his own.
"I am at your service, dear lady," he said amiably.
Miss Penelope rose, and gave the signal for the ladies to retire.
"I shall take you at your word, Mr. Vermont," she said graciously, as she passed out.
After the ladies had gone, the wine circulated freely, and in the merry badinage that followed it must be admitted that Jasper Vermont was the life and soul of the party. He had the newest scandal at his finger-tips, the latest theatrical news; and all was related in a witty manner that kept his listeners in a perpetual roar of laughter.
Adrien, though compelled by politeness to take his share in the conversation, was yet glad when they adjourned to the silver drawing-room. This was one of the smallest of the half-dozen drawing-rooms in Barminster Castle, and was decorated entirely in blue and silver. The furniture was upholstered in pale blue stain and silver embroideries. Curtains, hangings, and even carpet, were all of the same colour, while the mirrors and ornaments were entirely of silver.
To-night, Lady Constance's dress matched the room, for it was of palest azure silk, veiled with chiffon, on which were Etruscan silver ornaments and silver-thread embroidery. It was a colour which suited her shell-like complexion; and she looked her best in it.
She was at the piano when the men entered; and Leroy, who was passionately fond of music, and a musician of no mean order himself, came straight over to her. At his request, Constance sang song after song; while Vermont sat a little apart, listening, and occasionally glancing thoughtfully at the beautiful profile of the singer. Then his cold, malignant eyes would wander with an almost sinister expression over the rapt face of his friend and benefactor, as he leaned over the piano. But at any movement of the other guests his countenance would assume its usual amiability of expression, as though a mask were re-adjusted, while his fat, white hand softly beat time to the music.
At last Lady Constance declared she was tired, and turned to Adrien, begging him to sing instead. He hesitated for a moment; then, as if throwing off the unusual moodiness that oppressed him, he seated himself at the piano; and, after a few moments of restless improvisation, he sang song after song from Schumann's "Dichter-liebe," with an intensity of passion in the clear tenor notes that thrilled the soul of every listener.
In the silence which fell on the little company when the last chords died away, Jasper Vermont, half-hidden by the curtain, opened the window, and slipped out on the terrace. The moon shone full on his white face, distorted with an unaccountable fury, as he muttered through his clenched teeth: "Curse the fellow! How I hate him!"
CHAPTER X
The morning of the race dawned clear and bright, and the Leroy course shone like a strip of emerald velvet in the crisp, sparkling air.
Since sunrise, throngs of people, men, women, and children, had been streaming in from the outlying districts, some many miles away; while at the side of the course stretched a long line of vehicles of all kinds, which had already disbursed their load.
In twos and threes the late horses arrived swaddled in cloths, and surrounded by the usual crowd of bow-legged grooms and diminutive jockeys; while the air reeked with the smell of the stable and the oaths and slang of the men.
Later still came the bookmakers with their brisk, business-like method of entering the bets, big or small; the "swell's" thousand or the countryman's shilling were all one to them. And lastly, amid all the din and turmoil of the most crowded meeting Barminster had ever witnessed, came the army of the Castle servants to put the finishing touches to the boxes in the grand stand, over which floated the Leroy colours.
Towards noon, the hour at which the first race was to be run, the crowd grew denser, the excitement keener.
"Two to one on 'King Cole'--three to one 'Miracour'--and five to one 'Bay Star'--six to one, bar three"--all these cries rose in a loud, turbulent roar. It was known to all that the "swells"--as they termed the Castle people--had backed their champion "King Cole" for sums which, as Jasper Vermont had rightly said the preceding night, would almost equal his weight in gold; and such was their faith in him that no other horse had been entered from that same county.
Twelve o'clock struck, and no signs as yet of the Leroy party; that is to say, with the exception of one man, namely, Mr. Jasper Vermont.
"Your swells are always late," said a thick-lipped turfite, biting his stubby pencil prior to booking a favourable bet. "They gives any money for style, an' plays it high on us. It ain't their way to be to time for anything, not they--only us poor chaps."
The surrounding crowd echoed his shout of "two to one on 'King Cole,'" despite his diatribes against the swells; when suddenly attention was caught by a dark chestnut, thin in the flank, and badly groomed, which was led into the paddock by a dirty, close-shaven countryman, who looked as nonchalant and self-satisfied as if he held the bridle of "King Cole" himself.
Presently, while the crowd pushed around the sacred enclosure, Jasper Vermont walked swiftly up to the Yorkshireman, and whispered behind a sheltering cough:
"That will do. Take him off. The plant's safe without him."
Three minutes later, a laugh of derision arose as the announcement was made that the chestnut was "scratched." But further discussion died down, as the Leroy carriages arrived---only just in time, for the saddling bell had already rang.
The course was now looking its best. Long lines of glittering motors and smart carriages had joined their humbler brethren of traps and omnibuses. The seats and stands were filled with gaily-dressed people; women in their furs, velvets and exquisite hats, giving the impression from a distance of a huge living flower garden.
On the appearance of Adrien Leroy, the excitement reached its height, for he was known to everybody by name and sight, and was, moreover, the owner of the favourite.
The carriage containing Lord Barminster had been drawn up as near the course as possible, and as far from the crowd as space would permit; for his lordship invariably refused to mix with any concourse of people, even when they consisted of his own order.
Adrien, having seen that he was comfortable, escorted the ladies down to their seats on the grand stand; then he betook himself to the paddock, where "King Cole" had just been saddled.
At the sound of the loved voice the beautiful animal turned his head, with a whinny of delight. Then, as the two people he disliked with every fibre of his being approached him--Jasper Vermont and Peacock, the jockey--he laid his ears back with every appearance of alarm and distrust. It seemed as if his animal instincts were keener than those of his master.
Leroy stroked the soft nose of the race-horse, while Jasper passed his hand admiringly over the satiny neck.
"Beautiful as a daisy," he exclaimed, and as Mr. Vermont would hardly have recognised that humble flower if he had seen it, this was rather qualified praise.
"Too long in the leg," murmured a man whom Jasper had previously introduced as a sporting friend of his.
Adrien turned round and surveyed the speaker calmly for a moment.
"Too leggy, you think, do you? I'll lay two to one upon them."
"Done," said the man sharply. "Hundreds or thousands?"
"Thousands," said Adrien quietly.
Jasper touched him on the arm and whispered, in gentle remonstrance:
"Steady, old chap, there's pots of money on him as it is. Don't you think it would be as well--"
"Make it thousands," interrupted Adrien, almost haughtily, as he turned on his heel.
The man booked the bet, bowed to Vermont, as to an utter stranger, and the two gentlemen passed to the weighing-seat. Peacock had already gone to don his riding-clothes, and without waiting to see him again, Adrien and his companion returned to the grand stand. Here Leroy stopped to speak to Lady Merivale, who, with her sister, the Marchioness of Caine, had motored down from London to witness the race.
The marchioness was a lady with a passion for bridge, and an intense admiration for Adrien Leroy.
"You are quite sure your horse, that pretty creature with the long neck, is going to win?" she inquired, as he stood by her chair.
Her sister, Lady Merivale, looked up mockingly.
"Of course he's going to win, Alicia. Did not Lady Constance Tremaine say so? Surelysheought to know!"
Leroy did not appear to notice the jealous sarcasm of this speech.
"I hope he will win," he said gravely. "Nothing is certain in this world, and race-horses are said to be as fickle as your sex, dear lady." This was a mild thrust at Lady Merivale; but she only smiled sweetly in response. "Still, I think you may safely bet on the 'King'; he's in fine form." Then he turned to his cousin. "Here is yourbeaucavalier, Constance," he said, almost jealously, as Jasper Vermont came leisurely up the steps of the grand stand; then, with a swift glance at the girl which was not lost upon Lady Merivale, he went down once more to his father.
"The bell is about to ring now," he said. "Are you sure you can see?"
"Quite sure," replied Lord Barminster curtly. "How is the horse?"
"In splendid form, sir," Adrien answered cheerfully. "I should think it is a safe thing. If you are quite all right, I'll get back to the others now, before the crush begins."
His father nodded, and the young man made his way back to the stand. Here he found the Castle guests already seated. Harsh cries from the betting-ring still ascended at intervals, though the majority of the vast crowd had settled down to watch the race. With a thrill of pleasure, Adrien saw that Lady Constance had kept a seat vacant for him beside herself; and with a light word to Lady Merivale as he passed, he took his place, and unstrapping the heavy field-glasses, arranged them to Lady Constance's liking.
"Can you see all right?" he asked.
"Beautifully," she replied, as she tried them. "What excitement they are all in," she added, as she surveyed the seething crowd.
Adrien smiled, pleased because she was pleased; for himself, except that he wished his horse to win in order that it should gain fresh laurels, he had no interest in the affair. Certainly he never gave a thought to the fearful amount of money involved.
Then, amid a murmur of excitement, the starting-gate went up, and the horses were off. For a while "Miracour" led; "Bluebell" running close beside him; the "King" striding along in cool, quiet canter that covered the miles at greater speed than the little mare could hope to maintain.
"There goes the 'King'!" exclaimed Lady Caine, almost rising from her seat in her excitement. "Oh, I do hope he will win don't you, Mr. Vermont?"
Jasper smiled.
"I do, indeed," he said, while his little steely eyes rested upon the shrivelled figure of Peacock, the jockey, with a keen, cold scrutiny.
Meanwhile the horses pounded away over the course, still in the same order. "Miracour" leading, "Bluebell" falling behind, and the "King" creeping up easily to the second place.
The first fence placed nearly half the horses out of the running; the next threw out two more, though the "King" cleared it in his stride, so close in the wake of his rival that a speck of white foam flecked the haunches of the leader.
Adrien nodded approvingly.
"That fellow knows how to ride," he said. "If he keeps the 'King' like that, the race is ours."
"Oh yes," agreed Vermont, smiling grimly; "he understands him, evidently. It is to be hoped he keeps him cool till the spurt comes."
"Which will be after the last jump," put in Lord Standon, as he shifted his field-glasses.
"Exactly," purred Jasper.
Hedge after hedge was cleared, and still "Miracour" was leading; but it was evident that the high blood of the "King" was burning to get away, and that his jockey was playing a waiting game.
It was at the stream that the strain began to tell. "Bluebell," the Irish mare, had struggled on gamely; but at the last she refused to leap, she stopped short, and her jockey was pitched forward into the water.
A laugh arose even in the midst of the excitement; but it was speedily drowned in the cries of "The 'King' wins. No! No! 'Miracour!'--'Vicket'--beats. No! No! the 'King'--the 'King's' got away!"
They were right, for Peacock had thought it wisest to put the spurt on already, and the "King," with every fibre stretched to its utmost, had darted ahead. "Miracour" caught up again, and side by side they raced over the level flat, cheered and shouted at by the frantic crowd.
A roar like that of the sea broke forth as the two animals neared the last obstacle, a great hedge filled with thorn, and like a miniature mountain. Neck and neck they seemed to be, when suddenly the "King" darted forward, and, amid terrific shouts of astonishment, took the leap too short, fell sideways, and pitched his jockey into the short scrub, a dozen feet away.
"Miracour" rose for the leap, and clearing it, cantered in the winner by sixty lengths.
For a moment there was tense silence, broken by a roar of surprise, rage and disappointment, as the crowd broke away and swarmed over the course to the spot where the jockey still lay. A murmur of horror had also gone throughout the length of the grand stand; but whether of disappointment, or at the fall of the rider, it was hard to say.
All eyes were turned on Adrien. His face was rather pale, but quite calm, and closing up his field-glasses he said:
"'Miracour' ran finely. I can't understand the 'King' falling at the last jump. Jasper, let us go down and see if the fellow is hurt."
Making their excuses to the ladies they hurried down the steps, and strode swiftly over the course, the crowd making way for them in hushed silence, for they recognised Leroy as the owner of the defeated favourite.
Reaching the spot from which the crowd was being kept back, they found two men bending over the little heap of scarlet silk and leather. Shelton, who had been one of the stewards, looked up as Adrien approached, and shook his head.
Adrien bent down beside him, and gazed at the thin, shrivelled face of the jockey.
"Have you sent for a doctor, Shelton?" he asked.
"Yes," replied his friend in a hushed voice. "But I think he will be too late, his spine----"
At the sound of Adrien's voice, the heavy eyelids raised themselves; the bloodstained lips parted as if about to speak.
"What is it?" said Shelton, bending closer.
"Where--where is he?" gasped the man in disjointed words. "I want--to--see him."
"Whom?" asked Mortimer Shelton gently. "Whom do you want to see, my poor fellow?"
Mr. Vermont pushed his way forward, his face alight with eager sympathy.
"Perhaps I can be of use," he said, "I know him; perhaps he wants to tell me----"
The jockey raised his head. It seemed as if the soft, smooth voice gave him strength to speak. He glared at Jasper, then his glance fell on the pitying face of Leroy. With a sudden light in his eyes, he stretched out his hand.
"Him--him, the swell--I tell him the race--was--sold! He--Mr. Vermont----"
His breath came fast in great sobs; he glared from Adrien to Jasper, then back to Leroy, as if seeking to convey some warning, but in vain; with the last words, he fell back.
A gentleman pushed his way forward.
"Allow me, I am Doctor Blake," he said, and he knelt down beside the still form.
"He is dead," he declared solemnly, as he placed his hand on the body.
The crowd fell back still further, with murmurs of horror. There was a silence, broken at last by Jasper Vermont.
"Dear, dear!" he exclaimed in tones in which, had it not been for the absurdity of the idea, one might have fancied there was almost a spark of satisfaction. "How very, very sad. I wouldn't have had this happen foranything!"
CHAPTER XI
It was night and the race-course lay deserted and silent beneath the pallid moon. The noisy crowd had tramped and driven its way back to London. But there was one whom the noise and bustle of a race meet would never rouse again--Peacock the jockey, who lay dead in the stable house.
His death had cast a depression over the entire Castle, and though both Adrien and his father--to say nothing of Jasper--had striven their utmost to keep the minds of the guests away from the unhappy event, it was yet an almost gloomy party that gathered after dinner in the silver drawing-room.
Nearly all had lost heavily through the fall of poor "King Cole." They had had such entire faith in their champion, that his loss of the race had come like a thunder-bolt; and most of all to Adrien himself. The actual monetary loss did not seem to trouble him; indeed, it was probable that he himself was unaware of the immensity of the sum involved. Only Jasper knew, Jasper who wore his usual calm, serene smile, and certainly worked hard to banish all regrets concerning such a trifle as a dead steeplechaser, as well as any lingering memories of his dying words.
"One thing is certain," said Lord Standon to Lady Constance, who had been sighing over the defeat. "Adrien will not allow any one to ride the 'King' again but himself. I heard him say so."
"He has lost heavily, I'm afraid," the girl said in a low voice.
"Immensely," replied Lord Standon, who himself had, lost more than he could afford--indeed, there was little doubt that this race would almost prove his ruin; but, nevertheless, his inordinate good humour and optimistic nature triumphed above every other consideration. Certainly, no word of blame or self-pity would he allow to pass his lips. "Yes, he has lost more heavily than any of us, as Mr. Vermont knows; I'll be bound," he broke off, as that gentleman approached.
Jasper Vermont smiled, as he did at every question or assertion made to him.
"I'm afraid he has plunged deeply this time," was his smooth reply. "Unfortunately, he only has himself to blame, though I deplore the fact that I was not with him at the time."
Both Lady Constance and Lord Standon looked up, startled by his tone as much as by his words; and Jasper continued glibly:
"He gave the jockey a ten-pound note last night, and, of course, the man got drunk. Consequences--an unsteady hand this morning, a hasty push at the last rise, and a clear loss of the race, not to mention the colossal sum in bets. All his own fault! If he will be so recklessly generous, what is to be done? But, as I said before, I blame myself for not watching him more closely."
"No one blames you, Mr. Vermont," said Lord Standon coldly, for even he, the least suspicious of men, seemed to detect the false sorrow in the speaker's voice.
Lady Constance looked at him gratefully; and Lord Standon was encouraged thereby to proceed:
"Adrien is generous to a fault; and if in this case it has had disastrous results, it is usually a fault which few imitate."
Jasper raised his eyebrows; then, with a low bow to Lady Constance, and a gentle, deprecatory shrug of his shoulders, walked away.
The girl waited till he was out of earshot, then turned impulsively to Lord Standon.
"I hate that man," she said in a low voice; "and sometimes I believe he hates Adrien too."
"So do I," returned Lord Standon, looking with intense admiration into her lovely, troubled face.
"Do you?" she murmured. "Oh, if you would only try to open my cousin's eyes to his friend's falseness--I know he's false, but Adrien is so blind."
It seemed as if he were blind in more than one direction; for at that minute Leroy himself crossed the room, with an aspect that, in any other man, would have been termed glum. The sight of the girl with whom he was so rapidly falling in love, sitting in rapt conversation with Lord Standon--even though that young man was his friend--had roused a strong feeling of resentment within his heart. He restrained himself, however, though it was in a rather cold, forced voice that he asked Lady Constance if she would sing. She rose demurely enough; for his very coldness and jealousy, slight as it was--careless as she knew it to be--proved to her that the love she so ardently desired was awakening at last.
The evening passed quietly. Adrien himself refused to sing, though he stayed close by his cousin's side, and turned over the pages of her music with such a devoted air that at last the ladies of the party began to whisper knowingly amongst themselves.
Luckily for Adrien's peace of mind--for he loathed and dreaded scenes of any description--Lady Merivale had not returned with the party to the Castle, much as Miss Penelope had wished it. Eveline Merivale was only too cognisant of what was passing between Lady Constance and her cousin; and though she knew that Adrien and herself had merely played at love, and greatly against his will, at that, still she was just as unwilling to see him the devoted slave of another woman, who was younger, if not more beautiful, than herself.
After the ladies had retired for; the night, Adrien gave himself up to unaccustomed reverie. The tenor of his life had been changed. The inane senseless round of dissipation had begun to tire him; the homage and flattery cloyed on his palate. And now, with his newborn love for Constance filling his heart and mind, had come the overwhelming failure of his beloved horse, and the death of his jockey; the last causing him more pain than the light-hearted companions around him would have believed possible. Neither had the half-defined charge made against Jasper escaped his notice, though he had disdained to make any mention of it.
Shelton noticed his absent manner, as they smoked their last cigar before going to bed.
"Counting up the losses, Adrien?" he asked casually.
Adrien started at the question, and smiled.
"Not I," he said, "I leave that to Jasper--I call him my walking account-book. I'm sorry you fellows were let in though; I can't understand it; although"--with a rueful laugh--"I suppose it was my fault with that tenner. Yet, I must say, I noticed the man as he galloped past, and saw no, signs of anything wrong."
"Nor I," put in Vermont. "I was in the weighting-room, and saw him scaled. He was all right then. He always was white and seedy-looking. I saw nothing wrong."
"Nor I," echoed the others.
Adrien lit another cigar, and the light fell full on his grave face.
"The losses are heavy all round; yet, speaking for myself," he said, "I would have rather dropped treble the amount than that poor fellow should have lost his life by a horse of mine."
"His own fault. It was absolutely a case of suicide," declared Lord Standon angrily. "He put the 'King' to that last hurdle half a minute too soon. The horse was not to blame; he would have taken the hedge, and another on top of that, but for that unlucky spurt. 'Pon my soul," he concluded hotly, "if I didn't know how well he'd been cared for, I should have said it was done on purpose!"
Unlucky youth! he little knew the harm he had done his empty pockets by this rash speech. Jasper Vermont's eyes narrowed, as was their wont when anything occurred to annoy him, and he registered a mental note against the unfortunate peer's name.
Adrien frowned, as he rose with the rest.
"That is impossible," he said, almost sternly; "Jasper saw to that too well. But, in future, no one shall ride the 'King' but myself; he's just up to my weight," he concluded. "Jasper, enter him for the Cup. We will give him a chance to retrieve this day's failure."
Jasper had risen with him, and amid a volley of good-nights, the two men passed into the corridor. As Adrien was about to ascend the stairs to his own apartment, he turned to Vermont, and said quietly:
"Jasper, I should like that poor fellow to have a Christian burial in the private chapel; and if there are relations, find them out----" He broke off abruptly. "There, you know better than I what to do, and how to do it. Oh! just one word more; of course, I shall see that no notice is taken of his delirious ravings. Good-night, old man."
Jasper thanked him and returned his "good-night" with sympathetic cordiality; then turned softly to his own apartment. Having reached it, he gave himself up to a spasm of silent laughter.
"Christian burial!" he chuckled. "Oh, yes, he shall have Christian burial in the family vaults. Lucky job for me the hound died, or the game would have been all up. As it is, that fool--that popinjay, almost guessed. Well, deny everything and demand proof, that's my line. After all, it's the very risks and chances that make the game so fascinating."
He sat down and drew out a little note-book--only a very ordinary penny note-book; for it was wonderful how mean this man could be when he had to expend his own money. Save clothes, which necessarily had to be of good material, though quiet in colour, he never failed to buy the cheapest article obtainable; unless, of course, when, on the principle of "throwing a sprat to catch a herring," he stood to make a profit.
In this little book there lay the records of fortunes. A fortune spent by Leroy--a fortune gained by Jasper Vermont. He smiled to himself, as he closed one eye, and counted up the gains he had netted through this day's work.
"Eight--ten, with Yorkshire Twining's last little touch--ten thousands pounds. Ah, if those fools knew how the 'intruder' was stripping them of golden plumes, how mad they would be! Ten thousand pounds! But Twining was too risky," he muttered, frowning at the recollection, "My grand knight might have smelled a rat. Just like his noble lordship; two to one, because some stranger doubts the strength of the animal's legs."
He chuckled again as he thought how carefully he had stage-managed the day's comedy. Of the tragedy into which it had been turned by the death of his poor tool and accomplice, Peacock, he gave no thought, his whole mind was bound up in his jealous hatred of Leroy. Just why he hated him so he, himself, could hardly have explained; but with men of Jasper Vermont's calibre, the mere fact that one possesses so much--wealth, position, and popularity--while the other must perforce live by his wits, is quite sufficient to arouse all the evil passions of which he is capable.
"A mighty regal way he has with him," he muttered again, as he put away his book. "Ten thousand pounds! Go on, Jasper, my boy--persevere! The game starts well, the winning cards are yours. Gentlemen, make your game, the ball is rolling."
With this invitation to mankind in general, and his titled and wealthy acquaintances in particular, Mr. Jasper Vermont made his preparations for the night. He kept no valet; men of his type seldom care to have another in such close relations as must necessarily happen when one man holds the keys of another. It has been said by some cynic, that "the man who takes off your coat sees what is passing in the heart beneath it," and with this statement Mr. Vermont probably agreed.
"I am a simple-minded, rough-and-ready creature," he often assured his friends; "a man to worry my tie, and force me to buy a new coat, because he desires my old one, would drive me mad."
So he undressed himself slowly, reckoning up his gains, smiling at his mask of a face in the large mirror, and hatching his little plots every knot he untied, every button he released. At last he got into bed, and slept as easily and serenely as any simple-minded farmer.