CHAPTER XVIIAN INTRODUCTION AT HURST PARKIT was pure chance that led to the introduction of Hector Woodridge, as William Rolfe, to Fletcher Denyer.Hector had been in London a week; he visited various places of amusement, showed himself openly, made no attempt at concealment. He went to the races at Hurst Park and Gatwick. It was at the famous course on the banks of the Thames that he was made known to Denyer, by a man he became friendly with at his hotel. There is much freedom on the racecourse, and men, often unknown to each other, speak on various topics connected with the sport, without introduction.Denyer and Hector were soon in conversation, discussing the merits of various horses. Denyer received a word from the man who introduced them that Mr. Rolfe had money and might be exploited profitably to both. A hint such as this was not likely to be neglected; he thought if he could put this newly made acquaintance on a winner it wouldprobably result in future business. He had been advised to back Frisky in the Flying Handicap, and told Hector it was a real good thing, and likely to start at a long price.Hector wondered why he should tell him. As he looked at Denyer he fancied he had seen him before, but where he could not for the moment recall. Denyer walked away to speak to a jockey, and Hector stood trying to remember where he had met him. It flashed across his mind so vividly and suddenly that he was startled—Denyer was the man he had seen at the supper table in the hotel with Lenise Elroy. There was no doubt about it; he remembered his face distinctly. Here was a stroke of luck. Some guiding hand had led him to this man. He must cultivate his acquaintance; through him he could be brought face to face with the woman who had ruined him.Frisky won comfortably, started at ten to one, and Hector landed a hundred pounds. He also backed the winner of the next race, the Welter Handicap, and doubled his hundred. This was encouraging; it was to be a day of success—at least it appeared so.Denyer he did not see for some time. Shortly before the last race he noticed him walking across the paddock with a lady. It was Mrs. Elroy, and Hector's heart almost stopped beating. For a momenthe trembled with nervous excitement, which by a great effort he suppressed.They came up; Denyer introduced her. She held out her hand, Hector took it, they looked into each other's eyes. There was not a shadow of recognition on her part, but there was something else there—Lenise Elroy had by some strange intuition thrilled at the sight of this man, felt a wave of emotion flow through her body. She was sure she would like him, like him very much indeed, and she immediately resolved to better the acquaintance. Hector divined something of what passed in her mind and smiled. He could have wished for nothing better; it was what he most desired, but had not dared to hope for.Denyer left them together for a moment."You are a friend of Mr. Denyer's?" she said in a soothing voice."I was introduced to him here," he said. "I have not known him more than an hour or so. He put me on a winner, Frisky, and I also backed the last winner. My luck is in to-day," he added, as he looked meaningly at her.Lenise Elroy returned his glance; she understood men. She thought she had made a conquest and that he was worth it."Will you ride back to town with us in my motor?" said Denyer, as he joined them again."Yes, do, Mr. Rolfe; we shall be delighted if you will. And perhaps you will dine with us at the Savoy," she said.Hector said he would be delighted. Fortune was indeed favoring him.They rode to town together, and dined at the Savoy; later on they went to the Empire. It was an eventful day and night for Hector. Before he left, Denyer was half inclined to regret introducing him to Lenise; he did not care for her to show preference for another man; where she was concerned he was jealous. He reflected, however, that if she and Rolfe became good friends it would facilitate the process of extracting money from him, and this was his intention; every rich man he regarded as his lawful prey. To him Rolfe appeared rather a simple-minded, easy-going fellow; probably he had traveled a good deal, he looked tanned with the sun, as though he had been in hot climates; such men were generally free with their money, fond of company, and the society of an attractive woman like Lenise, who had very few scruples about the proprieties.When he left, Hector promised to lunch with them the following day.Fletcher Denyer went home with Lenise. Her maid was accustomed to seeing him in her rooms at all hours; she had never known him remain inthe house for the night; she judged, and rightly, there was nothing improper in their relations. The fact of the matter was, they were mutually useful to each other. Lenise wanted some one to go about with; and Denyer not only liked her society, but found her help to him in many of his schemes.She took off her cloak, handing it to her maid, then sat down on the couch and made herself comfortable, and attractive; she knew the full value of her personal appearance, and fine figure, and posed accordingly. Fletcher Denyer always admired her; to-night she looked so radiant and alluring he was fascinated, under her spell. He forgot his caution so far as to come to the sofa, bend over her, attempt to kiss her. She pushed him back roughly, and said: "Keep your distance, Fletcher, or we shall fall out. You have had too much champagne.""It's not the champagne," he said hotly; "it's your beauty; it acts like wine. You are lovelier than ever to-night. That fellow Rolfe admired you, any one could see it. You're not going to throw me over for him, are you, Len?""Don't be a silly boy. As for throwing you over, there is no engagement between us; we are merely good friends, and if you wish to maintain the relationship you had better not try to kiss me again. I hate being kissed; kisses are only for babes and sucklings," she said.He laughed; it was no good quarreling with her. He was satisfied to think that had any other man attempted to kiss her she would have ordered him out of the house."Not much of the babe about you," he said."More than you think, but I'm not made to be kissed.""That's just what you are, the most lovable woman I ever met."She laughed."That champagne was certainly too strong for you," she said.She never seemed tired; all go, no matter how late the hour; her flow of spirits seldom flagged, her eyes always shone brightly, her complexion never failed her; she was really a remarkable woman. No one knew what an effort it cost her to keep up appearances—alone a change came over her, the reaction set in. She did not care to be alone, at times she was afraid."What do you think of Rolfe?" he asked."In what way?""All ways, as far as you can judge from what you have seen to-day, and to-night," he said.She was thoughtful. He watched her; the jealous feeling came uppermost again."I think," she said slowly, "he is a man who has had a great deal of trouble, suffered much, probablyon account of a woman. I think he is a strong man, that he is determined, and if he has an object in view he will attain it, no matter what the obstacles in his way. Probably he has traveled, seen a good deal of the world, had strange experiences. He has remarkable eyes, they pierce, probe into one, search out things. He is a fine looking man, well built, but has probably had a severe illness not long ago. I think I shall like him; he is worth cultivating, making a friend of."She spoke as though no one were present. Fletcher Denyer felt for the time being he was forgotten and resented it."You have analyzed him closely; you must be a character reader. Have you ever turned your battery of close observation on me?" he asked snappishly.She smiled."You angry man, you asked me what I think of him and I have told you. I have turned the battery on you, Fletcher. I know your worth exactly. I am useful to you; you are useful to me—that is all.""All!" he exclaimed."Well, what else? We are not in love, are we?""No, I suppose not. Has it ever occurred to you, Lenise, that I want you to be my wife?" he asked."No, it has not occurred to me, nor has it occurred to you before to-night," she said."Yes, it has.""I doubt it. Besides, things are much better as they are. I would not be your wife if you asked me," she said."Why not?" he asked."Because—oh, for the very sufficient reason that you could not keep me, and I have sufficient to live upon," she said.He saw it would be better to drop the subject and said: "You have no objection to giving me a helping hand?""In what way?""This man Rolfe has money. I don't agree with your estimate of him as a strong man; I think he is weak. He may be useful to me.""You mean he may be induced to finance some of your schemes?" she said."Yes; why not? Where's the harm? His money is as good as another's, or better.""And you think I will lure him into your financial net?" she said calmly."Not exactly that; you can hint that I sometimes get in the know, behind the scenes, and so on, then leave the rest to me," he said."Take care, Fletcher. This man Rolfe is more than your equal; I am sure of it. If he is drawninto your schemes it will be for some object of his own. Don't drag me into it.""There's no dragging about it. You have merely to give me a good character, say I am clever and shrewd—you know how to work it," he said."Yes, I think I know how to work it," she said quietly.CHAPTER XVIIICONSCIENCE TROUBLESLENISE ELROY sat in her bedroom long after Fletcher Denyer left the house. She dismissed her maid before undressing, who, accustomed to her mistress's moods, thought nothing of it."I hate being alone," she said to herself, "and yet it is only then I can throw off the mask. I am a wicked woman; at least I have been told so, long ago. Perhaps I am, or was at that time. I wonder if Hector Woodridge is dead, or if he escaped? It is hardly likely he got away. I could wish he had, if he were out of the country and I were safe. It was not my fault altogether; he has suffered, so have I, and suffer still. I loved him in those days, whatever he may have thought to the contrary, but I don't think he loved me. Had Raoul been a man it would never have happened, but he was a weak, feeble-minded mortal and bored me intensely. I ought not to have married him; it was folly—money is not everything. I could have been a happy woman with such a man as Hector.How he must have suffered! But so have I. There is such a thing as conscience; I discovered it long ago, and it has tormented me, made my life at times a hell. I have tried to stifle it and cannot. Ever since that night at Torquay I have been haunted by a horrible dread that he got away on his brother's yacht, theSea-mew. Captain Bruce is devoted to them, he would do anything to help them. Perhaps it was part of the plan that theSea-mewshould lie in Torbay waiting for his escape. Money will do a great deal, and bribery may have been at work. It seems hardly possible, but there is no telling. The boatman said he was dead, Hackler said the same; they may be wrong—who knows—and at this moment he may be free and plotting against me. I can expect no mercy from him; I have wronged him too deeply; it is not in human nature to forgive what I have done."She shuddered, her face was drawn and haggard, she looked ten years older than she did an hour ago."Do I regret what happened?" she asked herself. She could not honestly say she did; given the same situation over again she felt everything would happen as it did then. It was a blunder, a crime, and the consequences were terrible, but it freed her, she was left to live her life as she wished, and it was an intense relief to be rid of Raoul. She knew it was callous, wicked, to think like this, but shecould not help it. She had not been a bad woman since her husband's death, not as bad women go. She had had one or two love affairs, but she had been circumspect, there was no more scandal, and she did no harm. She prided herself on this, as she thought of the opportunities and temptations that were thrown in her way and had been resisted."I'm not naturally a bad woman," she reasoned. "I do not lure men to destruction, fleece them of their money, then cast them aside. I have been merciful to young fellows who have become infatuated with me, chilled their ardor, made them cool toward me, saved them from themselves." She recalled two or three instances where she had done this and it gave her satisfaction.Her conscience, however, troubled her, and never more than to-night. She could not account for it. Why on this particular night should she be so vilely tormented? It was no use going to bed; she could not sleep; at least not without a drug, and she had taken too many of late. Sleep under such circumstances failed to soothe her; she awoke with a heavy head and tired eyes, her body hardly rested.She got up and walked to and fro in the room. She was debating what to do, how to act. Never since her love affair with Hector Woodridge had she met a man who appealed to her as William Rolfe did. The moment she was introduced to himat the races she knew he was bound to influence her life for good, or evil. She recognized the strong man in him, the man who could bend her to his will; she knew in his hands she would be as weak as the weakest of her sex, that she would yield to him. More, she wished him to dominate her, to place herself in his power, to say to him, "I am yours; do what you will with me." All this swept over her as she looked into his eyes and caught, she fancied, an answering response. She had felt much of this with Hector Woodridge, but not all; William Rolfe had a surer hold of her, if he wished to exercise his power, she knew it.Did she wish him to exercise the power?She thought no, and meant yes. Fletcher Denyer was useful to her, but in her heart she despised him; he took her money without scruple when she offered it. She was quite certain Rolfe would not do so, even if he wanted it ever so badly. She had no fear of Denyer, or his jealous moods. She smiled as she thought of him in his fits of anger, spluttering like a big child. Rolfe was a man in every respect, so she thought; she was a woman who liked to be subdued by a strong hand. The tragedy in her life had not killed her love of pleasure, although the result of it, as regards Hector Woodridge, had caused her much pain. Still she was a woman who cast aside trouble and steeled herselfagainst it. She had not met a man who could make her forget the past and live only in the present, but now she believed William Rolfe could do it.Would he try, would he come to her? She thought it possible, probable; and if he did, how would she act? Would she confess what had happened in her life? She must, it would be necessary, there would be no deception with such a man. What would be the consequences—would he pity, or blame her?At last she went to bed, and toward morning fell asleep, a restless slumber, accompanied by unpleasant dreams. It was eleven o'clock when she dressed; she remembered she had to meet Fletcher and William Rolfe at luncheon. She took a taxi to the hotel, and found Rolfe waiting for her. He handed her a note; it was from Denyer, stating he was detained in the city on urgent business, apologizing for his unavoidable absence, asking Rolfe to meet him later on, naming the place.He watched her as she read it, and saw she was pleased; it gave him savage satisfaction. He had not thought his task would be so easy; everything worked toward the end he had in view."I hope you will keep your appointment, at any rate," he said."I have done so, I am here," she answered, smiling."I mean that you will lunch with me.""Would it be quite proper?" she asked with a challenging glance."Quite," he said. "I will take every care of you."She wondered how old he was. It was difficult to guess. He might be younger than herself—not more than a year or two at the most. What caused that look on his face? It certainly was not fear; he was fearless, she thought. It was a sort of hunted look, as though he were always expecting something to happen and was on his guard. She would like to know the cause of it."You cannot imagine how difficult I am to take care of," she said."I am not afraid of the task," he said. "Will you lunch with me?""With pleasure," she replied, and they went inside.The room was well filled, a fashionable crowd; several people knew Mrs. Elroy and acknowledged her. To a certain extent she had lived down the past, but the recollection of it made her the more interesting. Women were afraid of her attractions, especially those who had somewhat fickle husbands; their alarm was groundless, had they known it."Wonder who that is with her? He's a fine looking man, but there's something peculiar about him," said a lady."What do you see peculiar in him? Seems an ordinary individual to me," drawled her husband."He is not ordinary by any means; his complexion is peculiar, a curious yellowy brown," she said."Perhaps he's a West Indian, or something of that sort."They sat at a small table alone; she thoroughly enjoyed the lunch. She drank a couple of glasses of champagne and the sparkling wine revived her."Shall we go for a motor ride after?" he asked."Yes, if you wish, and will not be tired of my company," she said."You do yourself an injustice," he said. "I do not think you could tire any one."She laughed as she said: "You don't know much of me, I am dull at times, rather depressed." She sighed, and for a moment the haggard look came into her face. Hector wondered if remorse were accountable for it; if she ever repented the injury she had done; no, it was not possible or she would have stretched out her hand to save him. He steeled his heart against her; he hated her; he would have his revenge, cost her what it might.They entered a taxi and were driven in the direction of Staines and Windsor. She felt a strange thrill of pleasure as she sat close beside him.CHAPTER XIX"WHAT WOULD YOU DO?"THEY went along the Staines Road, then by the banks of the Thames past Runnymede, came to Old Windsor, and from there to the White Hart Hotel. She thoroughly enjoyed it; the drive nerved her; she forgot the painful reflections of the previous night. He talked freely. She noticed with satisfaction he seemed attracted by her, looked at her searchingly as though interested. They went on the river and were rowed past the racecourse. It was warm and fine, the flow of the water past the boat soothed her. They had tea at the hotel, then returned to town."Where to?" he asked when they were nearing Kensington. She gave the name of her flat and they alighted there."I have been here some time," she said. "I find it comfortable and quiet. Will you come in?"He followed her. He noticed her room was furnished expensively and in excellent taste; there was nothing grand or gaudy about it."I am alone here, with my maid," she said. "Theyhave an excellent system: all meals are prepared downstairs and sent up; there is a very good chef.""The least possible trouble," he said. "How long have you been here?""Three years. It suits me; I do not care to be away from London. In my married days I lived in the country, but it bored me to death. Do you like the country?""Yes, I love it; but then much of my life has been spent in solitude.""You have traveled?""Yes.""I thought so.""Why?""Your complexion denotes it. I like it, there is a healthy brown about it.""I have done much hard work in my time," he said."Mining?" she asked."Yes, I suppose you would call it that.""Where?""On Dartmoor," he said.She was so astonished she could not speak. She looked at him with fear in her eyes."Dartmoor?" she whispered. "I did not know there were mines on Dartmoor.""Oh, yes, there are—copper mines. I was fool enough to believe there was money in them, but Iwas mistaken; there is copper there, no doubt, but I did not find it," he said.She felt as though a snake fascinated her, that she must ask questions about it."I have been to Torquay, but I did not go to Dartmoor," she said."You ought to have done so; it is a wonderful place. I was there a long time. When were you in Torquay?"She told him."Strange," he said; "I was there at that time."She felt a curious dread, not of him, but of something unknown."I went to the races—a friend of mine was riding there. He won four events. Lucky, was it not?""Yes," she said faintly. "Who was he?""Picton Woodridge. His yacht theSea-mewwas in the bay. I was on it.""You!" she exclaimed, and he saw the fear in her eyes."Yes, why not? Is there anything strange about it?" he asked, smiling. "He lives at Haverton. He is rich, but he is not quite happy.""Why not, if he has everything he wants?""He has not everything he wants; no one has, as a matter of fact. It would not be good for us. You have not all you want.""No, I have not; but I get along very well.""What is missing out of your life?" he asked."I can hardly tell you.""My friend's life is overcast by a great calamity that befell his family some years ago.""What was it?" she asked, and a slight shiver passed through her."His brother was accused of murder, of shooting the husband of the woman he had fallen in love with. He was condemned and reprieved; he is at Dartmoor now. That is enough to make his brother's life unhappy; it killed the Admiral, their father.""How shocking!" she said."I never thought of it before, but, strange to say, the man's name was Elroy. It is your name," he said.She laughed uneasily; she could not tell him now."I hope you do not connect me with the lady in question?""No, of course not. How absurd! But still it is strange—the name is uncommon," he said."I suppose you never saw his brother at the prison?""I did—I wish I had not.""Did he look very ill, broken down?""He was a terrible wreck. He suffered awful agony, of mind more than body. I never saw such a change in a man in my life. When I knew HectorWoodridge he was a fine, well set up, handsome man, in the army, a soldier's career before him. The breakdown was complete; it made me suffer to look at him. I never went again and I do not think he wanted it. If ever a man was living in hell upon earth he was; the wonder is it did not kill him.""How terrible!" she said."I wonder if the woman suffers? He did it on her account. I do not believe he is guilty—I am certain he is not. His brother believes in his innocence, so does Captain Bruce, and all his friends. I believe it is the knowledge that he is innocent sustains him in his awful life; he told me he hoped one day to prove his innocence, but that his lips were sealed, he could not speak. I told him that was foolish, that it was due to himself to speak, but he shook his head and said, 'Impossible!'""Is it a very terrible place at Dartmoor?""I suppose it is like all such prisons; but think what it must be for an innocent man to be caged there with a lot of desperate criminals, the scum of the earth. What must it be for such a man as Hector Woodridge, cultured, refined, an army man, well-bred—and on the top of it all the knowledge that the disgrace killed his father. It would drive me mad.""And me too," she said. "You say he is there still?""Yes; there is no chance of his escaping. I wish he could.""A prisoner escaped when I was at Torquay. I saw it in the local paper," she said."So did I; the fellow had a terrible fight with a bloodhound and strangled it. A desperate man has desperate strength," he said."I met an old boatman named Brack there; he told me the man must be dead.""No doubt; fell down a disused mine, or drowned himself, poor devil. I don't wonder at it," he said."I wonder how the woman feels about it?" she said in a low voice. "She must suffer, her conscience must trouble her, in a way her life must be as hard to bear as his.""That depends on the woman," he said. "I believe she can prove his innocence; something tells me she can; his brother believes it too. If this be so, she ought to speak and save him, no matter at what cost to herself.""Do you think she will?""No; or she would have spoken before. She must be callous, hard-hearted, dead to all sense of human feeling. Such a woman would make me shudder to come in contact with her," he said.She smiled as she thought: "He little knows I am that woman. I must wait. If he loves me later on I can tell him.""Perhaps the woman cannot prove his innocence. She may believe him guilty.""Impossible. There were only three persons present: the husband, the wife, and Hector Woodridge.""It seems very strange that if he is innocent she has not declared the truth.""Steeped in wickedness and sin as she is, I do not wonder at it; she is probably living in the world, leading a fast life, ruining men as she ruined him.""Or she may be suffering agonies and be too much of a coward to speak; she may be an object of pity; perhaps if you saw her you would be sorry for her, as sorry as you are for him," she said."He is in prison, she is free; she has the world to distract her, he has nothing.""You spoke of torture of the mind. Perhaps she is a sensitive woman; if so, her sufferings are as terrible as his.""If you were the woman, what would you do?" he asked.The question was put with an abruptness that startled her; again a feeling of fear was uppermost. It was strange he should know Hector Woodridge; still more curious that he was on theSea-mewin Torbay. He must know if Hector Woodridge boarded the yacht; was he concealing something?"I do not know what I should do. It would depend upon circumstances.""What circumstances?" he asked."If I knew he was innocent, I should speak, I think—that is, if I could prove it.""She must be able to prove it," he said. "I believe he is suffering, keeping silent, to save her.""If he is, his conduct is heroic," she said."Foolish—a sin and a shame that he should waste his life for such a woman.""You think her a very bad woman?""I do, one of the worst," he said.She sighed."I am glad I have never been placed in such an unfortunate position," she said."So am I, but I am sure if you had been, Hector Woodridge would be a free man," he said."I wonder if he loved her?" she asked quickly."Loved her? He must have done so. Think how he is suffering for her; he must love her still," he said."Perhaps she does not know this.""She ought to know; all his actions speak of love for her. No man ever made a greater sacrifice for a woman," he said. Then, looking at his watch, he added, "It is time for me to go, to meet Mr. Denyer. He is a great friend of yours, is he not?""I should not call him a friend exactly, althoughI have known him a long time; he is useful to me in business matters," she said."Can I be of any use in that way?" he asked."You might; I will ask you if I require anything.""And then I shall be an acquaintance," he said, smiling."Would you rather be my friend?""Yes."She held out her hand."I do not think that will be difficult," she said, her eyes flashing into his.CHAPTER XXRITA SEES A RESEMBLANCESOME acquaintanceships ripen fast into friendship; it was so with Lenise Elroy and Hector, at least on her side. She knew him as William Rolfe and as such he appealed to her. At times he reminded her in a vague way of Hector Woodridge; she liked him none the worse for this, although it brought back painful memories. She was fast drifting into the ocean of love where she would be tossed about, buffeted by the waves, and probably damaged. The impression he made on her was not easily effaced; she began to neglect Fletcher Denyer, much to his mortification. Before she met Rolfe their connection had been smooth, going on the even tenor of its way, with nothing to mar the harmony, but this new acquaintance proved a disturbing element and she was no longer the same to him. He resented it but could do nothing; he was powerless. He spoke to her, remonstrated, and she laughed at him; it was of no use tackling Rolfe, who would probably tell him to mind his business.He had, however, no intention of relinquishingwhat little hold he had over her, and tried to make himself more indispensable. Rolfe was friendly, took a hint as to some speculative shares and made money.It was September and the St. Leger day drew near. Hector had not forgotten Tearaway. He did not write to his brother; he thought it better not, safer. He watched the papers and saw the filly occasionally quoted at a hundred to four taken. The secret of the trial had been well kept, nothing leaked out about it. Ripon was a firm favorite at three to one, and all the wise men at Newmarket were sanguine of his success. Bronze was much fancied in certain quarters, and Harriet, The Monk, and Field Gun, frequently figured in the list; there was every prospect of a larger field than usual.Fletcher Denyer often talked about racing with Hector, who was quite willing to discuss the chances of horses with him."I am told on the best authority Bronze will win," said Fletcher. "What do you fancy, Rolfe?""I haven't thought much about it," replied Hector. "If Bronze is as good as they make out, he must have a chance.""If you want to back him I can get your money on at a good price," said Fletcher."I'll think it over," said Hector.Mrs. Elroy was also interested in the St. Leger.She knew the owner of Ripon, who told her he did not think his horse had anything to fear. This news was imparted to Hector."Are you going to Doncaster?" she asked.He said he was, that he always liked to see the St. Leger run."I think I shall go," she said. "I have been asked to join a house party near Doncaster."Hector wondered how it came about that a woman who had behaved so badly could be so soon forgiven, and her past forgotten."Then I shall have the pleasure of seeing you there," he said."I hope so. Your friend Mr. Woodridge has something in the race—Tearaway, is it not? I suppose she hasn't got much of a chance, it is such a good price about her," she said."No, I don't expect she has or she would not be at such long odds," he answered."There have been some big surprises in the St. Leger," she said."It doesn't look like one this year," he replied.A few days before the Doncaster meeting, Hector went to Haverton, where he had a warm welcome. Sir Robert Raines was there, Captain Ben, and one or two more, including Dick Langford, and Rita. Lady Raines came to act as hostess for Picton and brought two of her daughters; it was the knowledgethat she would be there induced Rita to come with her brother.At first Picton hesitated to ask her; she had never been to Haverton; but finally he decided. Lady Raines and her daughters would be there, it would be all right and proper. He was delighted when he heard she had arranged to come with Dick.Hector came the following day after their arrival. He first saw Rita in the garden with Picton. He recognized her at once: it was the lady who had been so kind to him on his way from Dartmoor to Torquay. He saw how close they walked together, how confidential was their talk, and guessed the rest. He recognized this with a pang; he had built castles in the air about her, which, like most such edifices, are easily shattered. Would she know him again as the tramp she helped on the road? It was not likely. In the first place, he was greatly changed, and secondly she would never expect to find him here. He smiled grimly as he thought of the condition he was in the last time they met. He went out to face her and walked toward them.Picton introduced them. She started slightly as she looked at him."I thought I had seen you somewhere before," she said with a bright smile. "You quite startledme, but I dare not tell you about it, it is quite too ridiculous.""You have roused my curiosity. Please enlighten me," he said."You are quite sure you will not be offended?" She looked at them both."I shall not, and I am the principal person to consider," said Hector."Then, if you promise not to be angry with me, I will; after all, I am sure he was a gentleman although in reduced circumstances," she said."Who was a gentleman?" asked Picton."The man I for the moment fancied resembled Mr. Rolfe," she said. "It was the day you came to Torwood."Rita told them about the tramp she had befriended, and added:"He was a well-bred man who must have met with some great misfortune. I pitied him, my heart bled for him; he was no common man, it was easy to recognize that. He thanked me courteously and went on his way down the road. I have often thought of him since and wondered what became of him. When you first came up, Mr. Rolfe, you reminded me of him, in looks and build, that is all. Have I offended you?""Not at all," said Hector. "You are quite sure I am not your gentleman tramp? Look again.""Don't be absurd! Of course you are not the man; it was a mere passing resemblance," she said."You did a very kindly action, and I am sure the man, whoever he is, will never forget it, or you. Perhaps at some future time he may repay your kindness. Who knows? There are some strange chances in the world, so many ups and downs, I should not at all wonder if you met him again in a very different sphere," said Hector.Lady Raines and her daughters came on to the terrace and Rita joined them."Whew!" said Hector, "that was a narrow squeak, Pic. I went hot and cold all over when I recognized who it was with you, but I thought I had better come out and face the music.""That's about the closest shave you've had, but even had she been certain she would only have known you as William Rolfe.""I forgot that," said Hector. "Still, it is better as it is. I say, Pic, is she the one?""I hope so," his brother replied, laughing. "I mean to have a good try.""Lucky fellow!" said Hector with a sigh. "There's no such chance of happiness for me.""There may be some day," said Picton. "You have not told me what you have been doing in London.""Plotting," said Hector. "I am on the way to secure my revenge—I shall succeed.""Can't you give me some idea how you mean to be revenged?" asked Picton."Not at present. You may get an inkling at Doncaster, if you keep your eyes open; but I expect all your attention will be riveted on Tearaway," said Hector."That's highly probable. One doesn't own a Leger winner every year," said Picton."Then you think she is sure to win?""Certain, and Sir Robert won't hear of her defeat. He has backed her to win a large stake, and he's jubilant about it.""It seems strange she does not shorten in the betting," said Hector."I don't take much notice of that; she's not a public performer, and it is a field above the average. If it had leaked out about the trial it would have been different, but we have a good lot of lads at Haverton; they know how to hold their tongues," said Picton."I'll tell you what, Pic, I'd like to let old Brack know. Wouldn't the dear old boy rejoice at getting on a twenty-five to one chance; he'd think more of it than anything. Brackish, boatman, Torquay, would find him," said Hector."He shall know," said Picton. "I'll tell youwhat, it would be a joke to get him to Doncaster for the St. Leger. I'll send Rose down to hunt him up and bring him.""I'm afraid Rose would look askance at Brack, he's such a highly superior person," said Hector."I fancy Brack would break his reserve down before they reached Doncaster," said Picton. "I shall send him, anyway."CHAPTER XXIBRACK TURNS TRAVELERROSE, I am about to send you on an important mission to Torquay," said Picton."Yes, sir.""You are to find an old boatman named Brackish, generally called Brack. He is a well-known character; there will be no difficulty about it. You will hand him this letter, and if he requires persuading you will use all your eloquence in that direction. You will give him ten pounds and pay all his expenses, and you must land him in the paddock at Doncaster at the latest on the St. Leger day. You understand?""Yes, sir. May I ask what kind of an individual he is?""Rough and ready. He was formerly a boatman at Scarborough. He is a Yorkshireman. He will don his best clothes; perhaps he will require a new pilot coat—if he does, buy him one.""And what am I to do when I land him in the paddock, sir?""Wait until I see him.""Very good, sir. Is that all?""Yes, I think so. Look after him well; he once did me a good turn. You'll find him interesting, also amusing.""When shall I go, sir?""To-morrow; that will give you ample time—a day or two in Torquay will be a pleasant change.""Thank you, sir; it will," said Rose."Come to me in my study to-night and I will give you the money," said Picton.Robert Rose thought, as he watched him walk away: "I hope he doesn't expect me to make a friend of the man. No doubt he'll smell of the sea, and fish, tar, oil-skins, and other beastly things; it won't be a pleasant journey—we shall have to put the windows down. I wonder if he washes, or whether he's caked with dirt, like some of 'em I've seen. It's coming to a pretty pass when I am dispatched on such an errand."He complained to Mrs. Yeoman but got no sympathy."If Brack's good enough for your master he's good enough for you," she snapped, and he thought it advisable not to pursue the subject farther.Rose arrived in Torquay in due course, late at night, after a tiring journey. Next morning he went forth in quest of Brack. A policeman pointedthe boatman out to him. Brack was leaning against the iron rail protecting the inner harbor. Rose looked at him in disgust. Brack had met a friend the night before and they had indulged somewhat freely in ale. He was all right but looked rather seedy and unkempt.Rose walked up to him, putting on his best air. Brack saw him and summed him up at once."Somebody's flunkey," he thought."Are you Mr. Brackish?" asked Rose in a patronizing manner."I'm Brack, name Brackish, don't know about the mister, seldom hear it used when I'm addressed. Now who may you be, my good man?" said Brack, mischief lurking in his eyes.To be addressed by this clod of a boatman as "my good man" quite upset Rose's dignity. He put on a severe look, which did not abash Brack in the least, and said: "I am from Haverton in Yorkshire. I represent Mr. Picton Woodridge. He desired me to see you and deliver this letter," and he handed it to him.Brack took it, opened the envelope, and handed it back."I've lost my glasses," he said; "must have left them in 'The Sailor's Rest' last night. Me an' a mate had a few pints more than we oughter. Whythe deuce didn't he post the letter and saveyouthe trouble of comin' to seeme?""It suited Mr. Woodridge's purpose better that I should personally deliver it. I will read it to you if you wish.""That's what I gave it to you for," said Brack.Rose read the letter. It was written in a kind and friendly way; Robert thought it too familiar. Brack listened attentively; at first he hardly grasped the full meaning."Would you mind reading it again?" he asked.Rose did so with ill-concealed impatience; then said: "Now do you understand its import, or shall I explain more fully?""Don't trouble yourself. I wouldn't trouble such an almighty high personage as yourself for the world," said Brack."No trouble at all, I assure you," said Rose."As far as I understand," said Brack, "I'm to put myself in your charge and you are to convey me safely to Doncaster to see the Leger run for.""That's it; we will leave to-morrow," said Rose."Will we? Who said I was goin'?" asked Brack."Of course you'll go; Mr. Picton wishes it.""He ain't my master, just you remember. Brack's got no master. I'm my own boss, and a pretty stiff job I have with myself at times. Last night, for instance. As boss I ordered myself home at ten;as Brack I went on strike and declined to move—see?""But he will be very much disappointed if you don't go to Doncaster with me. All your expenses will be paid. You'll have ten pounds to invest on the course, and you'll back Tearaway, say at twenty to one to a fiver," said Rose."Shall I indeed? And pray who says Tearaway will win the Leger?""I do," said Rose confidently."And I suppose that settles it. If you say so, she must win.""Mr. Picton says she will; so does Sir Robert Raines.""Do they now? And I'm to take all this for gospel?""It's quite correct. They have all backed Tearaway to win large sums, thousands of pounds," said Rose."Well, it's worth considering," said Brack. He wondered if Hector Woodridge were at Haverton. It was not mentioned in the letter. Perhaps this man did not know him; he would keep quiet about it."You'll have to make up your mind quick because we must leave early in the morning. I was instructed to buy you a new coat, or any other thing you wanted.""That's handsome; I'll accept the coat, a blue pilot, and a pair of boots, a tie, and a cap. I've got a fancy waistcoat my father used to wear. It's all over flowers and it's got pearl buttons. It's a knock-out; you'll admire it—perhaps you'd like to borrow it," said Brack.Rose declined, said he would not deprive Brack of it for worlds."You'll come with me?" he asked."Oh, yes; I'll come to oblige Mr. Woodridge; he's a gent and no mistake. Will you come and see my old mother?"Rose thought it would be diplomatic to do so. Evidently Brack was a man who wanted humoring; it was humiliating, but he must go through with it.Old Mrs. Brackish welcomed the visitor, dusted a chair for him, treated him with apparent deference which soothed Rose's feelings. He declined to remain for dinner, making as an excuse that he never ate anything until evening, it did not agree with him, the mid-day meal. When he left it was with a sense of relief."The mother is better than the son," he thought; "she knew what was due to my position.""He's a pompous old fool," she said to Brack when he was out of the house.Brack laughed as he said: "You've hit it, mother; you generally do.""An' so you're agoin' to Yorkshire," she said with a sigh. "Sometimes I wish I were back there, but it wouldn't suit me, and he's been very good to us here, Brack.""We've nowt to grumble at," said Brack. "We're better off than lots o' people. I may make a bit o' money at Doncaster on Leger day—you know how lucky I am over the race.""You oughtn't to bet," she said."I don't. My bit isn't bettin'; I just put a shillin' on now and again for the fun of the thing. Where's the harm in that?" he asked."I suppose you know best, Brack, and you've always been a good son to me," she said."And I always shall, have no fear of that, mother." And she had not; her faith in him was unbounded.Brack looked quite rakish, so he told himself, when he gazed in a mirror in the hat shop next day, on the way to the station. He had been to the barber's, had his whiskers and mustache trimmed, his hair cut, and a shampoo."I'm fresh as paint," he said to Rose, who was glad to see him so respectable. The smell of the sea hung about him, but it was tempered by somevery patent hair oil which emitted an overpowering scent.Several porters spoke to Brack, asking where he was going."Doncaster to see the Leger run."They laughed and one said: "Bet you a bob you don't get farther than Exeter.""Don't want to rob you, Tommy," was the reply. "I'll give you chaps a tip—have a shilling or two on Tearaway.""Never heard of him.""It's a her, not a he.""Whose is she?""Mr. Woodridge's, Picton Woodridge's.""The gentleman who rode four winners here last Easter, and won the double on The Rascal?""The same, and he's given me the tip.""Nonsense!""Gospel," said Brack."You must have come into a fortune; it'll cost you a pot of money going to Doncaster.""Mr. Woodridge is paying my expenses. He kind o' took a likin' to me when he was here; I rowed him to his yacht several times. He's one of the right sort, he is," said Brack."You're in luck's way," said the porter he had addressed as Tommy."It's men like me deserve to have luck—I'm a hard worker.""We're all hard workers," said Tom."Go on! Call trundling barrers, and handlin' bags hard work? Rowin's hard work. You try it, and you'll find the difference," said Brack.Tom laughed as he said: "You're a good sort, Brack, and I wish you success. This is your train."Rose came up."I've got the tickets. Is this the London train, porter?""Yes, right through to Paddington," said Tom, staring as he saw Rose and Brack get in together."Who is he, Brack, your swell friend?" he asked."Him? Oh, he's a cousin from Yorkshire," grinned Brack; and Rose sank down on the seat overwhelmed.CHAPTER XXIIDONCASTERBRACK and Rose arrived at Doncaster on the eve of the St. Leger, staying at a quiet hotel on the outskirts of the town. The railway journey from Torquay had been a source of anxiety to Rose. Brack made audible observations about the occupants of the carriage, which were resented, and Rose exercised diplomacy to keep the peace. He was horrified to see Brack pull a black bottle out of his bag."Beer," said Brack; "will you have some?"Rose declined in disgust; Brack pulled at it long and lustily, emptied it before reaching Exeter, got out there, went into the refreshment room, had it refilled, and nearly missed his train; Rose pulled, a porter pushed behind, and he stumbled in just in time; the bottle dropped on the floor, rolled under the seat, and Brack created a diversion among the passengers by diving for it. He generously passed it round, but no one partook of his hospitality. It was a relief to Rose when he went tosleep, but he snored so loud he thought it advisable to wake him. Brack resented this, and said he was entitled to snore if he wished.It was with evident relief that Rose saw him go to bed. When Brack disappeared he related his misfortunes to his host, who sympathized with him to his face and laughed behind his back: he considered Brack the better man of the two.At breakfast Rose explained what Doncaster was like in Leger week, until Brack, with his mouth crammed with ham, and half a poached egg, spurted out, "You're wastin' yer breath. I've been to see t'Leger many a time.""Have you? I thought this was your first visit.""And me a Yorkshireman—go on!" said Brack.They drove to the course in the landlord's trap, arriving in good time."I suppose you have not been in the paddock before?" said Rose patronizingly."No; I've been over yonder most times," and he waved toward the crowd on the moor."Follow me and I will conduct you."Brack laughed."You're a rum cove, you are. What do you do when you're at home?""I am Mr. Woodridge's general manager," said Rose loftily."You don't say so! Now I should have thoughtyou'd been the head footman, or something of that kind," said Brack."You are no judge of men," said Rose."I'd never mistake you for one," growled Brack.When they were in the paddock Rose was anxious to get rid of him, but he had his orders, and must wait until Mr. Woodridge saw them.Brack attracted attention; he was a strange bird in the midst of this gayly plumaged crowd, but he was quite at home, unaware he was a subject of observation.At last Picton Woodridge saw him and came up."Well, Brack, I am glad you came," he said as he shook hands. "I hope Rose looked after you.""He did very well. He's not a jovial mate, a trifle stuck up and so on, gives himself airs; expect he's considered a decent sort in his own circle—in the servants' hall," said Brack.Picton caught sight of Rose's face and burst out laughing."Speaks his mind, eh, Rose?" he said. "You may leave us.""He's a rum 'un," said Brack. "What is he?""My butler; I thought I had better send him for you in case you were undecided whether to come. I am glad you are here; and, Brack, I have a caution to give you. No one knows my brother, heis so changed. If you recognize him, say nothing—it would be dangerous.""I'll be dumb, never fear," said Brack. "I thank you for giving me this treat; it's a long time since I saw t'Leger run. Your man tells me Tearaway will win.""I feel certain of it. You had better put a little on her at twenty to one," said Picton."I will, and thank you. It was kind to give me ten pounds.""You deserve it, and you shall have more, Brack. If my filly wins to-day you shall have a hundred pounds and a new boat.""Good Lord!" exclaimed Brack. "A hundred pounds! It's as much as I've saved all the time I've been in Torquay—and a new boat, it's too much, far too much.""No, it isn't. Remember what you risked for us.""That's him, isn't it?" said Brack, pointing to Hector, who had his back to them. "I recognize his build.""I'm glad no one else has," said Picton. "Yes, that's he."Hector, turning round, saw Brack, came up, and spoke to him. Picton said: "This is Mr. Rolfe, William Rolfe, you understand?"Brack nodded as he said: "He's changed. I'd hardly have known his face."It was before the second race that Hector met Lenise Elroy in the paddock with her friends. She was not present on the first day and, strange to say, he missed her society. It startled him to recognize this. Surely he was not falling into her toils, coming under her spell, for the second time, and after all he had suffered through her! Of course not; it was because of the revenge burning in him that he was disappointed. How beautiful she was, and how gracefully she walked across the paddock; she was perfectly dressed, expensively, but in good taste. She was recognized by many people, some of whom knew her past, and looked askance at her.Hector went toward her. She saw him and a bright smile of welcome lit up her face."I am so glad to see you," she said.They walked away together, after she had introduced him to one or two of her friends.Brack saw them and muttered to himself: "That's the lady was making inquiries about him at Torquay, and she doesn't know who he is; she can't. Wonder what her game is, and his? She knows Hackler too. There may be danger. I'd best give him a hint if I get a chance.""What will win the St. Leger, Mr. Rolfe?" she asked."Ripon, I suppose; that is your tip," he said."Yes, they are very confident. His owner is one of our party; we are all on it. Have you backed anything?""I have a modest investment on Tearaway; I am staying at Haverton with Mr. Woodridge," he said."You appear to have faith in the filly.""Oh, it's only a fancy; she may not be as good as they think," he said.Picton saw them together. He was surprised, startled; he thought of Hector's remark about keeping his eyes open. He recognized Mrs. Elroy, although he had not seen her for several years. What a terrible risk Hector ran! Was it possible she did not recognize him, that she really thought he was William Rolfe? It seemed incredible after all that had happened. Was she deceiving Hector as he was her? Picton remembered his brother had spoken about a plan, and revenge. What was his intention? If Mrs. Elroy did not know he was Hector Woodridge, then indeed his brother had a weapon in his hands which might help him to awful vengeance; the mere possibility of what might happen made Picton shudder. Hector had suffered terribly, but was it sufficient to condone a revenge, the consequences of which no one could foresee? They appeared quite happy together. Had hisbrother fallen under her spell for the second time? No, that was not possible; it was not in human nature to forgive such injuries as she had inflicted upon him. Mrs. Elroy saw Picton, recognized him, and said to Hector: "That is your friend Mr. Woodridge, is it not?""Yes; do you know him?""No.""Would you care to be introduced?""As you please," she replied; she was thankful when Picton went away with Sir Robert, and the introduction was avoided."There will be an opportunity later on," said Hector. "When are you returning to town?""After the races, on Saturday.""From Doncaster?""Yes.""What train do you travel by?"She named a train in the afternoon."May I have the pleasure of your company?" he asked."I shall be delighted if you wish it.""I do," he said. "Nothing will give me greater pleasure.""Then I shall expect you," she said, with a glance he knew well, as she rejoined her friends.Undoubtedly Lenise Elroy was one of the most attractive women at the races; there was just thattouch of uncertainty about her mode of living which caused men to turn and look at her, and women to avoid her when possible.Sir Robert Raines, when he saw her, said to Picton: "I wonder she dare show her face here in Yorkshire; some women have no shame in them.""She is a wicked woman, Bob; she ought to be in prison instead of poor Hector. I believed at the trial she shot Elroy, and I always shall," said his wife."Who is that beautiful woman who was talking to Mr. Rolfe?" asked Rita."She is Mrs. Elroy," said Picton.Rita knew nothing about Hector's troubles; she was young at the time of the trial.Something in his manner of speaking caused her to ask: "You do not like her?""No; she is a woman with a past, a very bad past, but she faces it out, and is recognized by some people. I should not like you to know her," he said."Men are very unmerciful to a woman who errs," she said."If you knew as much about her as I, you would agree with me that she ought to be treated as an outcast; she is not fit to be in the company of respectable people," he said bitterly.This was so unlike Picton that she felt he must have strong grounds for what he said. Her curiosity was aroused; Mr. Rolfe might enlighten her."Let us go and see Tearaway," she said, and at the mention of his favorite's name Picton's face cleared, the shadows flitted away, he was himself again.Brant Blackett came up hastily, a troubled look on his face."What's the matter?" asked Picton anxiously."Erickson's been taken suddenly ill," he said. "I'm afraid he'll not be able to ride."
IT was pure chance that led to the introduction of Hector Woodridge, as William Rolfe, to Fletcher Denyer.
Hector had been in London a week; he visited various places of amusement, showed himself openly, made no attempt at concealment. He went to the races at Hurst Park and Gatwick. It was at the famous course on the banks of the Thames that he was made known to Denyer, by a man he became friendly with at his hotel. There is much freedom on the racecourse, and men, often unknown to each other, speak on various topics connected with the sport, without introduction.
Denyer and Hector were soon in conversation, discussing the merits of various horses. Denyer received a word from the man who introduced them that Mr. Rolfe had money and might be exploited profitably to both. A hint such as this was not likely to be neglected; he thought if he could put this newly made acquaintance on a winner it wouldprobably result in future business. He had been advised to back Frisky in the Flying Handicap, and told Hector it was a real good thing, and likely to start at a long price.
Hector wondered why he should tell him. As he looked at Denyer he fancied he had seen him before, but where he could not for the moment recall. Denyer walked away to speak to a jockey, and Hector stood trying to remember where he had met him. It flashed across his mind so vividly and suddenly that he was startled—Denyer was the man he had seen at the supper table in the hotel with Lenise Elroy. There was no doubt about it; he remembered his face distinctly. Here was a stroke of luck. Some guiding hand had led him to this man. He must cultivate his acquaintance; through him he could be brought face to face with the woman who had ruined him.
Frisky won comfortably, started at ten to one, and Hector landed a hundred pounds. He also backed the winner of the next race, the Welter Handicap, and doubled his hundred. This was encouraging; it was to be a day of success—at least it appeared so.
Denyer he did not see for some time. Shortly before the last race he noticed him walking across the paddock with a lady. It was Mrs. Elroy, and Hector's heart almost stopped beating. For a momenthe trembled with nervous excitement, which by a great effort he suppressed.
They came up; Denyer introduced her. She held out her hand, Hector took it, they looked into each other's eyes. There was not a shadow of recognition on her part, but there was something else there—Lenise Elroy had by some strange intuition thrilled at the sight of this man, felt a wave of emotion flow through her body. She was sure she would like him, like him very much indeed, and she immediately resolved to better the acquaintance. Hector divined something of what passed in her mind and smiled. He could have wished for nothing better; it was what he most desired, but had not dared to hope for.
Denyer left them together for a moment.
"You are a friend of Mr. Denyer's?" she said in a soothing voice.
"I was introduced to him here," he said. "I have not known him more than an hour or so. He put me on a winner, Frisky, and I also backed the last winner. My luck is in to-day," he added, as he looked meaningly at her.
Lenise Elroy returned his glance; she understood men. She thought she had made a conquest and that he was worth it.
"Will you ride back to town with us in my motor?" said Denyer, as he joined them again.
"Yes, do, Mr. Rolfe; we shall be delighted if you will. And perhaps you will dine with us at the Savoy," she said.
Hector said he would be delighted. Fortune was indeed favoring him.
They rode to town together, and dined at the Savoy; later on they went to the Empire. It was an eventful day and night for Hector. Before he left, Denyer was half inclined to regret introducing him to Lenise; he did not care for her to show preference for another man; where she was concerned he was jealous. He reflected, however, that if she and Rolfe became good friends it would facilitate the process of extracting money from him, and this was his intention; every rich man he regarded as his lawful prey. To him Rolfe appeared rather a simple-minded, easy-going fellow; probably he had traveled a good deal, he looked tanned with the sun, as though he had been in hot climates; such men were generally free with their money, fond of company, and the society of an attractive woman like Lenise, who had very few scruples about the proprieties.
When he left, Hector promised to lunch with them the following day.
Fletcher Denyer went home with Lenise. Her maid was accustomed to seeing him in her rooms at all hours; she had never known him remain inthe house for the night; she judged, and rightly, there was nothing improper in their relations. The fact of the matter was, they were mutually useful to each other. Lenise wanted some one to go about with; and Denyer not only liked her society, but found her help to him in many of his schemes.
She took off her cloak, handing it to her maid, then sat down on the couch and made herself comfortable, and attractive; she knew the full value of her personal appearance, and fine figure, and posed accordingly. Fletcher Denyer always admired her; to-night she looked so radiant and alluring he was fascinated, under her spell. He forgot his caution so far as to come to the sofa, bend over her, attempt to kiss her. She pushed him back roughly, and said: "Keep your distance, Fletcher, or we shall fall out. You have had too much champagne."
"It's not the champagne," he said hotly; "it's your beauty; it acts like wine. You are lovelier than ever to-night. That fellow Rolfe admired you, any one could see it. You're not going to throw me over for him, are you, Len?"
"Don't be a silly boy. As for throwing you over, there is no engagement between us; we are merely good friends, and if you wish to maintain the relationship you had better not try to kiss me again. I hate being kissed; kisses are only for babes and sucklings," she said.
He laughed; it was no good quarreling with her. He was satisfied to think that had any other man attempted to kiss her she would have ordered him out of the house.
"Not much of the babe about you," he said.
"More than you think, but I'm not made to be kissed."
"That's just what you are, the most lovable woman I ever met."
She laughed.
"That champagne was certainly too strong for you," she said.
She never seemed tired; all go, no matter how late the hour; her flow of spirits seldom flagged, her eyes always shone brightly, her complexion never failed her; she was really a remarkable woman. No one knew what an effort it cost her to keep up appearances—alone a change came over her, the reaction set in. She did not care to be alone, at times she was afraid.
"What do you think of Rolfe?" he asked.
"In what way?"
"All ways, as far as you can judge from what you have seen to-day, and to-night," he said.
She was thoughtful. He watched her; the jealous feeling came uppermost again.
"I think," she said slowly, "he is a man who has had a great deal of trouble, suffered much, probablyon account of a woman. I think he is a strong man, that he is determined, and if he has an object in view he will attain it, no matter what the obstacles in his way. Probably he has traveled, seen a good deal of the world, had strange experiences. He has remarkable eyes, they pierce, probe into one, search out things. He is a fine looking man, well built, but has probably had a severe illness not long ago. I think I shall like him; he is worth cultivating, making a friend of."
She spoke as though no one were present. Fletcher Denyer felt for the time being he was forgotten and resented it.
"You have analyzed him closely; you must be a character reader. Have you ever turned your battery of close observation on me?" he asked snappishly.
She smiled.
"You angry man, you asked me what I think of him and I have told you. I have turned the battery on you, Fletcher. I know your worth exactly. I am useful to you; you are useful to me—that is all."
"All!" he exclaimed.
"Well, what else? We are not in love, are we?"
"No, I suppose not. Has it ever occurred to you, Lenise, that I want you to be my wife?" he asked.
"No, it has not occurred to me, nor has it occurred to you before to-night," she said.
"Yes, it has."
"I doubt it. Besides, things are much better as they are. I would not be your wife if you asked me," she said.
"Why not?" he asked.
"Because—oh, for the very sufficient reason that you could not keep me, and I have sufficient to live upon," she said.
He saw it would be better to drop the subject and said: "You have no objection to giving me a helping hand?"
"In what way?"
"This man Rolfe has money. I don't agree with your estimate of him as a strong man; I think he is weak. He may be useful to me."
"You mean he may be induced to finance some of your schemes?" she said.
"Yes; why not? Where's the harm? His money is as good as another's, or better."
"And you think I will lure him into your financial net?" she said calmly.
"Not exactly that; you can hint that I sometimes get in the know, behind the scenes, and so on, then leave the rest to me," he said.
"Take care, Fletcher. This man Rolfe is more than your equal; I am sure of it. If he is drawninto your schemes it will be for some object of his own. Don't drag me into it."
"There's no dragging about it. You have merely to give me a good character, say I am clever and shrewd—you know how to work it," he said.
"Yes, I think I know how to work it," she said quietly.
LENISE ELROY sat in her bedroom long after Fletcher Denyer left the house. She dismissed her maid before undressing, who, accustomed to her mistress's moods, thought nothing of it.
"I hate being alone," she said to herself, "and yet it is only then I can throw off the mask. I am a wicked woman; at least I have been told so, long ago. Perhaps I am, or was at that time. I wonder if Hector Woodridge is dead, or if he escaped? It is hardly likely he got away. I could wish he had, if he were out of the country and I were safe. It was not my fault altogether; he has suffered, so have I, and suffer still. I loved him in those days, whatever he may have thought to the contrary, but I don't think he loved me. Had Raoul been a man it would never have happened, but he was a weak, feeble-minded mortal and bored me intensely. I ought not to have married him; it was folly—money is not everything. I could have been a happy woman with such a man as Hector.How he must have suffered! But so have I. There is such a thing as conscience; I discovered it long ago, and it has tormented me, made my life at times a hell. I have tried to stifle it and cannot. Ever since that night at Torquay I have been haunted by a horrible dread that he got away on his brother's yacht, theSea-mew. Captain Bruce is devoted to them, he would do anything to help them. Perhaps it was part of the plan that theSea-mewshould lie in Torbay waiting for his escape. Money will do a great deal, and bribery may have been at work. It seems hardly possible, but there is no telling. The boatman said he was dead, Hackler said the same; they may be wrong—who knows—and at this moment he may be free and plotting against me. I can expect no mercy from him; I have wronged him too deeply; it is not in human nature to forgive what I have done."
She shuddered, her face was drawn and haggard, she looked ten years older than she did an hour ago.
"Do I regret what happened?" she asked herself. She could not honestly say she did; given the same situation over again she felt everything would happen as it did then. It was a blunder, a crime, and the consequences were terrible, but it freed her, she was left to live her life as she wished, and it was an intense relief to be rid of Raoul. She knew it was callous, wicked, to think like this, but shecould not help it. She had not been a bad woman since her husband's death, not as bad women go. She had had one or two love affairs, but she had been circumspect, there was no more scandal, and she did no harm. She prided herself on this, as she thought of the opportunities and temptations that were thrown in her way and had been resisted.
"I'm not naturally a bad woman," she reasoned. "I do not lure men to destruction, fleece them of their money, then cast them aside. I have been merciful to young fellows who have become infatuated with me, chilled their ardor, made them cool toward me, saved them from themselves." She recalled two or three instances where she had done this and it gave her satisfaction.
Her conscience, however, troubled her, and never more than to-night. She could not account for it. Why on this particular night should she be so vilely tormented? It was no use going to bed; she could not sleep; at least not without a drug, and she had taken too many of late. Sleep under such circumstances failed to soothe her; she awoke with a heavy head and tired eyes, her body hardly rested.
She got up and walked to and fro in the room. She was debating what to do, how to act. Never since her love affair with Hector Woodridge had she met a man who appealed to her as William Rolfe did. The moment she was introduced to himat the races she knew he was bound to influence her life for good, or evil. She recognized the strong man in him, the man who could bend her to his will; she knew in his hands she would be as weak as the weakest of her sex, that she would yield to him. More, she wished him to dominate her, to place herself in his power, to say to him, "I am yours; do what you will with me." All this swept over her as she looked into his eyes and caught, she fancied, an answering response. She had felt much of this with Hector Woodridge, but not all; William Rolfe had a surer hold of her, if he wished to exercise his power, she knew it.
Did she wish him to exercise the power?
She thought no, and meant yes. Fletcher Denyer was useful to her, but in her heart she despised him; he took her money without scruple when she offered it. She was quite certain Rolfe would not do so, even if he wanted it ever so badly. She had no fear of Denyer, or his jealous moods. She smiled as she thought of him in his fits of anger, spluttering like a big child. Rolfe was a man in every respect, so she thought; she was a woman who liked to be subdued by a strong hand. The tragedy in her life had not killed her love of pleasure, although the result of it, as regards Hector Woodridge, had caused her much pain. Still she was a woman who cast aside trouble and steeled herselfagainst it. She had not met a man who could make her forget the past and live only in the present, but now she believed William Rolfe could do it.
Would he try, would he come to her? She thought it possible, probable; and if he did, how would she act? Would she confess what had happened in her life? She must, it would be necessary, there would be no deception with such a man. What would be the consequences—would he pity, or blame her?
At last she went to bed, and toward morning fell asleep, a restless slumber, accompanied by unpleasant dreams. It was eleven o'clock when she dressed; she remembered she had to meet Fletcher and William Rolfe at luncheon. She took a taxi to the hotel, and found Rolfe waiting for her. He handed her a note; it was from Denyer, stating he was detained in the city on urgent business, apologizing for his unavoidable absence, asking Rolfe to meet him later on, naming the place.
He watched her as she read it, and saw she was pleased; it gave him savage satisfaction. He had not thought his task would be so easy; everything worked toward the end he had in view.
"I hope you will keep your appointment, at any rate," he said.
"I have done so, I am here," she answered, smiling.
"I mean that you will lunch with me."
"Would it be quite proper?" she asked with a challenging glance.
"Quite," he said. "I will take every care of you."
She wondered how old he was. It was difficult to guess. He might be younger than herself—not more than a year or two at the most. What caused that look on his face? It certainly was not fear; he was fearless, she thought. It was a sort of hunted look, as though he were always expecting something to happen and was on his guard. She would like to know the cause of it.
"You cannot imagine how difficult I am to take care of," she said.
"I am not afraid of the task," he said. "Will you lunch with me?"
"With pleasure," she replied, and they went inside.
The room was well filled, a fashionable crowd; several people knew Mrs. Elroy and acknowledged her. To a certain extent she had lived down the past, but the recollection of it made her the more interesting. Women were afraid of her attractions, especially those who had somewhat fickle husbands; their alarm was groundless, had they known it.
"Wonder who that is with her? He's a fine looking man, but there's something peculiar about him," said a lady.
"What do you see peculiar in him? Seems an ordinary individual to me," drawled her husband.
"He is not ordinary by any means; his complexion is peculiar, a curious yellowy brown," she said.
"Perhaps he's a West Indian, or something of that sort."
They sat at a small table alone; she thoroughly enjoyed the lunch. She drank a couple of glasses of champagne and the sparkling wine revived her.
"Shall we go for a motor ride after?" he asked.
"Yes, if you wish, and will not be tired of my company," she said.
"You do yourself an injustice," he said. "I do not think you could tire any one."
She laughed as she said: "You don't know much of me, I am dull at times, rather depressed." She sighed, and for a moment the haggard look came into her face. Hector wondered if remorse were accountable for it; if she ever repented the injury she had done; no, it was not possible or she would have stretched out her hand to save him. He steeled his heart against her; he hated her; he would have his revenge, cost her what it might.
They entered a taxi and were driven in the direction of Staines and Windsor. She felt a strange thrill of pleasure as she sat close beside him.
THEY went along the Staines Road, then by the banks of the Thames past Runnymede, came to Old Windsor, and from there to the White Hart Hotel. She thoroughly enjoyed it; the drive nerved her; she forgot the painful reflections of the previous night. He talked freely. She noticed with satisfaction he seemed attracted by her, looked at her searchingly as though interested. They went on the river and were rowed past the racecourse. It was warm and fine, the flow of the water past the boat soothed her. They had tea at the hotel, then returned to town.
"Where to?" he asked when they were nearing Kensington. She gave the name of her flat and they alighted there.
"I have been here some time," she said. "I find it comfortable and quiet. Will you come in?"
He followed her. He noticed her room was furnished expensively and in excellent taste; there was nothing grand or gaudy about it.
"I am alone here, with my maid," she said. "Theyhave an excellent system: all meals are prepared downstairs and sent up; there is a very good chef."
"The least possible trouble," he said. "How long have you been here?"
"Three years. It suits me; I do not care to be away from London. In my married days I lived in the country, but it bored me to death. Do you like the country?"
"Yes, I love it; but then much of my life has been spent in solitude."
"You have traveled?"
"Yes."
"I thought so."
"Why?"
"Your complexion denotes it. I like it, there is a healthy brown about it."
"I have done much hard work in my time," he said.
"Mining?" she asked.
"Yes, I suppose you would call it that."
"Where?"
"On Dartmoor," he said.
She was so astonished she could not speak. She looked at him with fear in her eyes.
"Dartmoor?" she whispered. "I did not know there were mines on Dartmoor."
"Oh, yes, there are—copper mines. I was fool enough to believe there was money in them, but Iwas mistaken; there is copper there, no doubt, but I did not find it," he said.
She felt as though a snake fascinated her, that she must ask questions about it.
"I have been to Torquay, but I did not go to Dartmoor," she said.
"You ought to have done so; it is a wonderful place. I was there a long time. When were you in Torquay?"
She told him.
"Strange," he said; "I was there at that time."
She felt a curious dread, not of him, but of something unknown.
"I went to the races—a friend of mine was riding there. He won four events. Lucky, was it not?"
"Yes," she said faintly. "Who was he?"
"Picton Woodridge. His yacht theSea-mewwas in the bay. I was on it."
"You!" she exclaimed, and he saw the fear in her eyes.
"Yes, why not? Is there anything strange about it?" he asked, smiling. "He lives at Haverton. He is rich, but he is not quite happy."
"Why not, if he has everything he wants?"
"He has not everything he wants; no one has, as a matter of fact. It would not be good for us. You have not all you want."
"No, I have not; but I get along very well."
"What is missing out of your life?" he asked.
"I can hardly tell you."
"My friend's life is overcast by a great calamity that befell his family some years ago."
"What was it?" she asked, and a slight shiver passed through her.
"His brother was accused of murder, of shooting the husband of the woman he had fallen in love with. He was condemned and reprieved; he is at Dartmoor now. That is enough to make his brother's life unhappy; it killed the Admiral, their father."
"How shocking!" she said.
"I never thought of it before, but, strange to say, the man's name was Elroy. It is your name," he said.
She laughed uneasily; she could not tell him now.
"I hope you do not connect me with the lady in question?"
"No, of course not. How absurd! But still it is strange—the name is uncommon," he said.
"I suppose you never saw his brother at the prison?"
"I did—I wish I had not."
"Did he look very ill, broken down?"
"He was a terrible wreck. He suffered awful agony, of mind more than body. I never saw such a change in a man in my life. When I knew HectorWoodridge he was a fine, well set up, handsome man, in the army, a soldier's career before him. The breakdown was complete; it made me suffer to look at him. I never went again and I do not think he wanted it. If ever a man was living in hell upon earth he was; the wonder is it did not kill him."
"How terrible!" she said.
"I wonder if the woman suffers? He did it on her account. I do not believe he is guilty—I am certain he is not. His brother believes in his innocence, so does Captain Bruce, and all his friends. I believe it is the knowledge that he is innocent sustains him in his awful life; he told me he hoped one day to prove his innocence, but that his lips were sealed, he could not speak. I told him that was foolish, that it was due to himself to speak, but he shook his head and said, 'Impossible!'"
"Is it a very terrible place at Dartmoor?"
"I suppose it is like all such prisons; but think what it must be for an innocent man to be caged there with a lot of desperate criminals, the scum of the earth. What must it be for such a man as Hector Woodridge, cultured, refined, an army man, well-bred—and on the top of it all the knowledge that the disgrace killed his father. It would drive me mad."
"And me too," she said. "You say he is there still?"
"Yes; there is no chance of his escaping. I wish he could."
"A prisoner escaped when I was at Torquay. I saw it in the local paper," she said.
"So did I; the fellow had a terrible fight with a bloodhound and strangled it. A desperate man has desperate strength," he said.
"I met an old boatman named Brack there; he told me the man must be dead."
"No doubt; fell down a disused mine, or drowned himself, poor devil. I don't wonder at it," he said.
"I wonder how the woman feels about it?" she said in a low voice. "She must suffer, her conscience must trouble her, in a way her life must be as hard to bear as his."
"That depends on the woman," he said. "I believe she can prove his innocence; something tells me she can; his brother believes it too. If this be so, she ought to speak and save him, no matter at what cost to herself."
"Do you think she will?"
"No; or she would have spoken before. She must be callous, hard-hearted, dead to all sense of human feeling. Such a woman would make me shudder to come in contact with her," he said.
She smiled as she thought: "He little knows I am that woman. I must wait. If he loves me later on I can tell him."
"Perhaps the woman cannot prove his innocence. She may believe him guilty."
"Impossible. There were only three persons present: the husband, the wife, and Hector Woodridge."
"It seems very strange that if he is innocent she has not declared the truth."
"Steeped in wickedness and sin as she is, I do not wonder at it; she is probably living in the world, leading a fast life, ruining men as she ruined him."
"Or she may be suffering agonies and be too much of a coward to speak; she may be an object of pity; perhaps if you saw her you would be sorry for her, as sorry as you are for him," she said.
"He is in prison, she is free; she has the world to distract her, he has nothing."
"You spoke of torture of the mind. Perhaps she is a sensitive woman; if so, her sufferings are as terrible as his."
"If you were the woman, what would you do?" he asked.
The question was put with an abruptness that startled her; again a feeling of fear was uppermost. It was strange he should know Hector Woodridge; still more curious that he was on theSea-mewin Torbay. He must know if Hector Woodridge boarded the yacht; was he concealing something?
"I do not know what I should do. It would depend upon circumstances."
"What circumstances?" he asked.
"If I knew he was innocent, I should speak, I think—that is, if I could prove it."
"She must be able to prove it," he said. "I believe he is suffering, keeping silent, to save her."
"If he is, his conduct is heroic," she said.
"Foolish—a sin and a shame that he should waste his life for such a woman."
"You think her a very bad woman?"
"I do, one of the worst," he said.
She sighed.
"I am glad I have never been placed in such an unfortunate position," she said.
"So am I, but I am sure if you had been, Hector Woodridge would be a free man," he said.
"I wonder if he loved her?" she asked quickly.
"Loved her? He must have done so. Think how he is suffering for her; he must love her still," he said.
"Perhaps she does not know this."
"She ought to know; all his actions speak of love for her. No man ever made a greater sacrifice for a woman," he said. Then, looking at his watch, he added, "It is time for me to go, to meet Mr. Denyer. He is a great friend of yours, is he not?"
"I should not call him a friend exactly, althoughI have known him a long time; he is useful to me in business matters," she said.
"Can I be of any use in that way?" he asked.
"You might; I will ask you if I require anything."
"And then I shall be an acquaintance," he said, smiling.
"Would you rather be my friend?"
"Yes."
She held out her hand.
"I do not think that will be difficult," she said, her eyes flashing into his.
SOME acquaintanceships ripen fast into friendship; it was so with Lenise Elroy and Hector, at least on her side. She knew him as William Rolfe and as such he appealed to her. At times he reminded her in a vague way of Hector Woodridge; she liked him none the worse for this, although it brought back painful memories. She was fast drifting into the ocean of love where she would be tossed about, buffeted by the waves, and probably damaged. The impression he made on her was not easily effaced; she began to neglect Fletcher Denyer, much to his mortification. Before she met Rolfe their connection had been smooth, going on the even tenor of its way, with nothing to mar the harmony, but this new acquaintance proved a disturbing element and she was no longer the same to him. He resented it but could do nothing; he was powerless. He spoke to her, remonstrated, and she laughed at him; it was of no use tackling Rolfe, who would probably tell him to mind his business.
He had, however, no intention of relinquishingwhat little hold he had over her, and tried to make himself more indispensable. Rolfe was friendly, took a hint as to some speculative shares and made money.
It was September and the St. Leger day drew near. Hector had not forgotten Tearaway. He did not write to his brother; he thought it better not, safer. He watched the papers and saw the filly occasionally quoted at a hundred to four taken. The secret of the trial had been well kept, nothing leaked out about it. Ripon was a firm favorite at three to one, and all the wise men at Newmarket were sanguine of his success. Bronze was much fancied in certain quarters, and Harriet, The Monk, and Field Gun, frequently figured in the list; there was every prospect of a larger field than usual.
Fletcher Denyer often talked about racing with Hector, who was quite willing to discuss the chances of horses with him.
"I am told on the best authority Bronze will win," said Fletcher. "What do you fancy, Rolfe?"
"I haven't thought much about it," replied Hector. "If Bronze is as good as they make out, he must have a chance."
"If you want to back him I can get your money on at a good price," said Fletcher.
"I'll think it over," said Hector.
Mrs. Elroy was also interested in the St. Leger.She knew the owner of Ripon, who told her he did not think his horse had anything to fear. This news was imparted to Hector.
"Are you going to Doncaster?" she asked.
He said he was, that he always liked to see the St. Leger run.
"I think I shall go," she said. "I have been asked to join a house party near Doncaster."
Hector wondered how it came about that a woman who had behaved so badly could be so soon forgiven, and her past forgotten.
"Then I shall have the pleasure of seeing you there," he said.
"I hope so. Your friend Mr. Woodridge has something in the race—Tearaway, is it not? I suppose she hasn't got much of a chance, it is such a good price about her," she said.
"No, I don't expect she has or she would not be at such long odds," he answered.
"There have been some big surprises in the St. Leger," she said.
"It doesn't look like one this year," he replied.
A few days before the Doncaster meeting, Hector went to Haverton, where he had a warm welcome. Sir Robert Raines was there, Captain Ben, and one or two more, including Dick Langford, and Rita. Lady Raines came to act as hostess for Picton and brought two of her daughters; it was the knowledgethat she would be there induced Rita to come with her brother.
At first Picton hesitated to ask her; she had never been to Haverton; but finally he decided. Lady Raines and her daughters would be there, it would be all right and proper. He was delighted when he heard she had arranged to come with Dick.
Hector came the following day after their arrival. He first saw Rita in the garden with Picton. He recognized her at once: it was the lady who had been so kind to him on his way from Dartmoor to Torquay. He saw how close they walked together, how confidential was their talk, and guessed the rest. He recognized this with a pang; he had built castles in the air about her, which, like most such edifices, are easily shattered. Would she know him again as the tramp she helped on the road? It was not likely. In the first place, he was greatly changed, and secondly she would never expect to find him here. He smiled grimly as he thought of the condition he was in the last time they met. He went out to face her and walked toward them.
Picton introduced them. She started slightly as she looked at him.
"I thought I had seen you somewhere before," she said with a bright smile. "You quite startledme, but I dare not tell you about it, it is quite too ridiculous."
"You have roused my curiosity. Please enlighten me," he said.
"You are quite sure you will not be offended?" She looked at them both.
"I shall not, and I am the principal person to consider," said Hector.
"Then, if you promise not to be angry with me, I will; after all, I am sure he was a gentleman although in reduced circumstances," she said.
"Who was a gentleman?" asked Picton.
"The man I for the moment fancied resembled Mr. Rolfe," she said. "It was the day you came to Torwood."
Rita told them about the tramp she had befriended, and added:
"He was a well-bred man who must have met with some great misfortune. I pitied him, my heart bled for him; he was no common man, it was easy to recognize that. He thanked me courteously and went on his way down the road. I have often thought of him since and wondered what became of him. When you first came up, Mr. Rolfe, you reminded me of him, in looks and build, that is all. Have I offended you?"
"Not at all," said Hector. "You are quite sure I am not your gentleman tramp? Look again."
"Don't be absurd! Of course you are not the man; it was a mere passing resemblance," she said.
"You did a very kindly action, and I am sure the man, whoever he is, will never forget it, or you. Perhaps at some future time he may repay your kindness. Who knows? There are some strange chances in the world, so many ups and downs, I should not at all wonder if you met him again in a very different sphere," said Hector.
Lady Raines and her daughters came on to the terrace and Rita joined them.
"Whew!" said Hector, "that was a narrow squeak, Pic. I went hot and cold all over when I recognized who it was with you, but I thought I had better come out and face the music."
"That's about the closest shave you've had, but even had she been certain she would only have known you as William Rolfe."
"I forgot that," said Hector. "Still, it is better as it is. I say, Pic, is she the one?"
"I hope so," his brother replied, laughing. "I mean to have a good try."
"Lucky fellow!" said Hector with a sigh. "There's no such chance of happiness for me."
"There may be some day," said Picton. "You have not told me what you have been doing in London."
"Plotting," said Hector. "I am on the way to secure my revenge—I shall succeed."
"Can't you give me some idea how you mean to be revenged?" asked Picton.
"Not at present. You may get an inkling at Doncaster, if you keep your eyes open; but I expect all your attention will be riveted on Tearaway," said Hector.
"That's highly probable. One doesn't own a Leger winner every year," said Picton.
"Then you think she is sure to win?"
"Certain, and Sir Robert won't hear of her defeat. He has backed her to win a large stake, and he's jubilant about it."
"It seems strange she does not shorten in the betting," said Hector.
"I don't take much notice of that; she's not a public performer, and it is a field above the average. If it had leaked out about the trial it would have been different, but we have a good lot of lads at Haverton; they know how to hold their tongues," said Picton.
"I'll tell you what, Pic, I'd like to let old Brack know. Wouldn't the dear old boy rejoice at getting on a twenty-five to one chance; he'd think more of it than anything. Brackish, boatman, Torquay, would find him," said Hector.
"He shall know," said Picton. "I'll tell youwhat, it would be a joke to get him to Doncaster for the St. Leger. I'll send Rose down to hunt him up and bring him."
"I'm afraid Rose would look askance at Brack, he's such a highly superior person," said Hector.
"I fancy Brack would break his reserve down before they reached Doncaster," said Picton. "I shall send him, anyway."
ROSE, I am about to send you on an important mission to Torquay," said Picton.
"Yes, sir."
"You are to find an old boatman named Brackish, generally called Brack. He is a well-known character; there will be no difficulty about it. You will hand him this letter, and if he requires persuading you will use all your eloquence in that direction. You will give him ten pounds and pay all his expenses, and you must land him in the paddock at Doncaster at the latest on the St. Leger day. You understand?"
"Yes, sir. May I ask what kind of an individual he is?"
"Rough and ready. He was formerly a boatman at Scarborough. He is a Yorkshireman. He will don his best clothes; perhaps he will require a new pilot coat—if he does, buy him one."
"And what am I to do when I land him in the paddock, sir?"
"Wait until I see him."
"Very good, sir. Is that all?"
"Yes, I think so. Look after him well; he once did me a good turn. You'll find him interesting, also amusing."
"When shall I go, sir?"
"To-morrow; that will give you ample time—a day or two in Torquay will be a pleasant change."
"Thank you, sir; it will," said Rose.
"Come to me in my study to-night and I will give you the money," said Picton.
Robert Rose thought, as he watched him walk away: "I hope he doesn't expect me to make a friend of the man. No doubt he'll smell of the sea, and fish, tar, oil-skins, and other beastly things; it won't be a pleasant journey—we shall have to put the windows down. I wonder if he washes, or whether he's caked with dirt, like some of 'em I've seen. It's coming to a pretty pass when I am dispatched on such an errand."
He complained to Mrs. Yeoman but got no sympathy.
"If Brack's good enough for your master he's good enough for you," she snapped, and he thought it advisable not to pursue the subject farther.
Rose arrived in Torquay in due course, late at night, after a tiring journey. Next morning he went forth in quest of Brack. A policeman pointedthe boatman out to him. Brack was leaning against the iron rail protecting the inner harbor. Rose looked at him in disgust. Brack had met a friend the night before and they had indulged somewhat freely in ale. He was all right but looked rather seedy and unkempt.
Rose walked up to him, putting on his best air. Brack saw him and summed him up at once.
"Somebody's flunkey," he thought.
"Are you Mr. Brackish?" asked Rose in a patronizing manner.
"I'm Brack, name Brackish, don't know about the mister, seldom hear it used when I'm addressed. Now who may you be, my good man?" said Brack, mischief lurking in his eyes.
To be addressed by this clod of a boatman as "my good man" quite upset Rose's dignity. He put on a severe look, which did not abash Brack in the least, and said: "I am from Haverton in Yorkshire. I represent Mr. Picton Woodridge. He desired me to see you and deliver this letter," and he handed it to him.
Brack took it, opened the envelope, and handed it back.
"I've lost my glasses," he said; "must have left them in 'The Sailor's Rest' last night. Me an' a mate had a few pints more than we oughter. Whythe deuce didn't he post the letter and saveyouthe trouble of comin' to seeme?"
"It suited Mr. Woodridge's purpose better that I should personally deliver it. I will read it to you if you wish."
"That's what I gave it to you for," said Brack.
Rose read the letter. It was written in a kind and friendly way; Robert thought it too familiar. Brack listened attentively; at first he hardly grasped the full meaning.
"Would you mind reading it again?" he asked.
Rose did so with ill-concealed impatience; then said: "Now do you understand its import, or shall I explain more fully?"
"Don't trouble yourself. I wouldn't trouble such an almighty high personage as yourself for the world," said Brack.
"No trouble at all, I assure you," said Rose.
"As far as I understand," said Brack, "I'm to put myself in your charge and you are to convey me safely to Doncaster to see the Leger run for."
"That's it; we will leave to-morrow," said Rose.
"Will we? Who said I was goin'?" asked Brack.
"Of course you'll go; Mr. Picton wishes it."
"He ain't my master, just you remember. Brack's got no master. I'm my own boss, and a pretty stiff job I have with myself at times. Last night, for instance. As boss I ordered myself home at ten;as Brack I went on strike and declined to move—see?"
"But he will be very much disappointed if you don't go to Doncaster with me. All your expenses will be paid. You'll have ten pounds to invest on the course, and you'll back Tearaway, say at twenty to one to a fiver," said Rose.
"Shall I indeed? And pray who says Tearaway will win the Leger?"
"I do," said Rose confidently.
"And I suppose that settles it. If you say so, she must win."
"Mr. Picton says she will; so does Sir Robert Raines."
"Do they now? And I'm to take all this for gospel?"
"It's quite correct. They have all backed Tearaway to win large sums, thousands of pounds," said Rose.
"Well, it's worth considering," said Brack. He wondered if Hector Woodridge were at Haverton. It was not mentioned in the letter. Perhaps this man did not know him; he would keep quiet about it.
"You'll have to make up your mind quick because we must leave early in the morning. I was instructed to buy you a new coat, or any other thing you wanted."
"That's handsome; I'll accept the coat, a blue pilot, and a pair of boots, a tie, and a cap. I've got a fancy waistcoat my father used to wear. It's all over flowers and it's got pearl buttons. It's a knock-out; you'll admire it—perhaps you'd like to borrow it," said Brack.
Rose declined, said he would not deprive Brack of it for worlds.
"You'll come with me?" he asked.
"Oh, yes; I'll come to oblige Mr. Woodridge; he's a gent and no mistake. Will you come and see my old mother?"
Rose thought it would be diplomatic to do so. Evidently Brack was a man who wanted humoring; it was humiliating, but he must go through with it.
Old Mrs. Brackish welcomed the visitor, dusted a chair for him, treated him with apparent deference which soothed Rose's feelings. He declined to remain for dinner, making as an excuse that he never ate anything until evening, it did not agree with him, the mid-day meal. When he left it was with a sense of relief.
"The mother is better than the son," he thought; "she knew what was due to my position."
"He's a pompous old fool," she said to Brack when he was out of the house.
Brack laughed as he said: "You've hit it, mother; you generally do."
"An' so you're agoin' to Yorkshire," she said with a sigh. "Sometimes I wish I were back there, but it wouldn't suit me, and he's been very good to us here, Brack."
"We've nowt to grumble at," said Brack. "We're better off than lots o' people. I may make a bit o' money at Doncaster on Leger day—you know how lucky I am over the race."
"You oughtn't to bet," she said.
"I don't. My bit isn't bettin'; I just put a shillin' on now and again for the fun of the thing. Where's the harm in that?" he asked.
"I suppose you know best, Brack, and you've always been a good son to me," she said.
"And I always shall, have no fear of that, mother." And she had not; her faith in him was unbounded.
Brack looked quite rakish, so he told himself, when he gazed in a mirror in the hat shop next day, on the way to the station. He had been to the barber's, had his whiskers and mustache trimmed, his hair cut, and a shampoo.
"I'm fresh as paint," he said to Rose, who was glad to see him so respectable. The smell of the sea hung about him, but it was tempered by somevery patent hair oil which emitted an overpowering scent.
Several porters spoke to Brack, asking where he was going.
"Doncaster to see the Leger run."
They laughed and one said: "Bet you a bob you don't get farther than Exeter."
"Don't want to rob you, Tommy," was the reply. "I'll give you chaps a tip—have a shilling or two on Tearaway."
"Never heard of him."
"It's a her, not a he."
"Whose is she?"
"Mr. Woodridge's, Picton Woodridge's."
"The gentleman who rode four winners here last Easter, and won the double on The Rascal?"
"The same, and he's given me the tip."
"Nonsense!"
"Gospel," said Brack.
"You must have come into a fortune; it'll cost you a pot of money going to Doncaster."
"Mr. Woodridge is paying my expenses. He kind o' took a likin' to me when he was here; I rowed him to his yacht several times. He's one of the right sort, he is," said Brack.
"You're in luck's way," said the porter he had addressed as Tommy.
"It's men like me deserve to have luck—I'm a hard worker."
"We're all hard workers," said Tom.
"Go on! Call trundling barrers, and handlin' bags hard work? Rowin's hard work. You try it, and you'll find the difference," said Brack.
Tom laughed as he said: "You're a good sort, Brack, and I wish you success. This is your train."
Rose came up.
"I've got the tickets. Is this the London train, porter?"
"Yes, right through to Paddington," said Tom, staring as he saw Rose and Brack get in together.
"Who is he, Brack, your swell friend?" he asked.
"Him? Oh, he's a cousin from Yorkshire," grinned Brack; and Rose sank down on the seat overwhelmed.
BRACK and Rose arrived at Doncaster on the eve of the St. Leger, staying at a quiet hotel on the outskirts of the town. The railway journey from Torquay had been a source of anxiety to Rose. Brack made audible observations about the occupants of the carriage, which were resented, and Rose exercised diplomacy to keep the peace. He was horrified to see Brack pull a black bottle out of his bag.
"Beer," said Brack; "will you have some?"
Rose declined in disgust; Brack pulled at it long and lustily, emptied it before reaching Exeter, got out there, went into the refreshment room, had it refilled, and nearly missed his train; Rose pulled, a porter pushed behind, and he stumbled in just in time; the bottle dropped on the floor, rolled under the seat, and Brack created a diversion among the passengers by diving for it. He generously passed it round, but no one partook of his hospitality. It was a relief to Rose when he went tosleep, but he snored so loud he thought it advisable to wake him. Brack resented this, and said he was entitled to snore if he wished.
It was with evident relief that Rose saw him go to bed. When Brack disappeared he related his misfortunes to his host, who sympathized with him to his face and laughed behind his back: he considered Brack the better man of the two.
At breakfast Rose explained what Doncaster was like in Leger week, until Brack, with his mouth crammed with ham, and half a poached egg, spurted out, "You're wastin' yer breath. I've been to see t'Leger many a time."
"Have you? I thought this was your first visit."
"And me a Yorkshireman—go on!" said Brack.
They drove to the course in the landlord's trap, arriving in good time.
"I suppose you have not been in the paddock before?" said Rose patronizingly.
"No; I've been over yonder most times," and he waved toward the crowd on the moor.
"Follow me and I will conduct you."
Brack laughed.
"You're a rum cove, you are. What do you do when you're at home?"
"I am Mr. Woodridge's general manager," said Rose loftily.
"You don't say so! Now I should have thoughtyou'd been the head footman, or something of that kind," said Brack.
"You are no judge of men," said Rose.
"I'd never mistake you for one," growled Brack.
When they were in the paddock Rose was anxious to get rid of him, but he had his orders, and must wait until Mr. Woodridge saw them.
Brack attracted attention; he was a strange bird in the midst of this gayly plumaged crowd, but he was quite at home, unaware he was a subject of observation.
At last Picton Woodridge saw him and came up.
"Well, Brack, I am glad you came," he said as he shook hands. "I hope Rose looked after you."
"He did very well. He's not a jovial mate, a trifle stuck up and so on, gives himself airs; expect he's considered a decent sort in his own circle—in the servants' hall," said Brack.
Picton caught sight of Rose's face and burst out laughing.
"Speaks his mind, eh, Rose?" he said. "You may leave us."
"He's a rum 'un," said Brack. "What is he?"
"My butler; I thought I had better send him for you in case you were undecided whether to come. I am glad you are here; and, Brack, I have a caution to give you. No one knows my brother, heis so changed. If you recognize him, say nothing—it would be dangerous."
"I'll be dumb, never fear," said Brack. "I thank you for giving me this treat; it's a long time since I saw t'Leger run. Your man tells me Tearaway will win."
"I feel certain of it. You had better put a little on her at twenty to one," said Picton.
"I will, and thank you. It was kind to give me ten pounds."
"You deserve it, and you shall have more, Brack. If my filly wins to-day you shall have a hundred pounds and a new boat."
"Good Lord!" exclaimed Brack. "A hundred pounds! It's as much as I've saved all the time I've been in Torquay—and a new boat, it's too much, far too much."
"No, it isn't. Remember what you risked for us."
"That's him, isn't it?" said Brack, pointing to Hector, who had his back to them. "I recognize his build."
"I'm glad no one else has," said Picton. "Yes, that's he."
Hector, turning round, saw Brack, came up, and spoke to him. Picton said: "This is Mr. Rolfe, William Rolfe, you understand?"
Brack nodded as he said: "He's changed. I'd hardly have known his face."
It was before the second race that Hector met Lenise Elroy in the paddock with her friends. She was not present on the first day and, strange to say, he missed her society. It startled him to recognize this. Surely he was not falling into her toils, coming under her spell, for the second time, and after all he had suffered through her! Of course not; it was because of the revenge burning in him that he was disappointed. How beautiful she was, and how gracefully she walked across the paddock; she was perfectly dressed, expensively, but in good taste. She was recognized by many people, some of whom knew her past, and looked askance at her.
Hector went toward her. She saw him and a bright smile of welcome lit up her face.
"I am so glad to see you," she said.
They walked away together, after she had introduced him to one or two of her friends.
Brack saw them and muttered to himself: "That's the lady was making inquiries about him at Torquay, and she doesn't know who he is; she can't. Wonder what her game is, and his? She knows Hackler too. There may be danger. I'd best give him a hint if I get a chance."
"What will win the St. Leger, Mr. Rolfe?" she asked.
"Ripon, I suppose; that is your tip," he said.
"Yes, they are very confident. His owner is one of our party; we are all on it. Have you backed anything?"
"I have a modest investment on Tearaway; I am staying at Haverton with Mr. Woodridge," he said.
"You appear to have faith in the filly."
"Oh, it's only a fancy; she may not be as good as they think," he said.
Picton saw them together. He was surprised, startled; he thought of Hector's remark about keeping his eyes open. He recognized Mrs. Elroy, although he had not seen her for several years. What a terrible risk Hector ran! Was it possible she did not recognize him, that she really thought he was William Rolfe? It seemed incredible after all that had happened. Was she deceiving Hector as he was her? Picton remembered his brother had spoken about a plan, and revenge. What was his intention? If Mrs. Elroy did not know he was Hector Woodridge, then indeed his brother had a weapon in his hands which might help him to awful vengeance; the mere possibility of what might happen made Picton shudder. Hector had suffered terribly, but was it sufficient to condone a revenge, the consequences of which no one could foresee? They appeared quite happy together. Had hisbrother fallen under her spell for the second time? No, that was not possible; it was not in human nature to forgive such injuries as she had inflicted upon him. Mrs. Elroy saw Picton, recognized him, and said to Hector: "That is your friend Mr. Woodridge, is it not?"
"Yes; do you know him?"
"No."
"Would you care to be introduced?"
"As you please," she replied; she was thankful when Picton went away with Sir Robert, and the introduction was avoided.
"There will be an opportunity later on," said Hector. "When are you returning to town?"
"After the races, on Saturday."
"From Doncaster?"
"Yes."
"What train do you travel by?"
She named a train in the afternoon.
"May I have the pleasure of your company?" he asked.
"I shall be delighted if you wish it."
"I do," he said. "Nothing will give me greater pleasure."
"Then I shall expect you," she said, with a glance he knew well, as she rejoined her friends.
Undoubtedly Lenise Elroy was one of the most attractive women at the races; there was just thattouch of uncertainty about her mode of living which caused men to turn and look at her, and women to avoid her when possible.
Sir Robert Raines, when he saw her, said to Picton: "I wonder she dare show her face here in Yorkshire; some women have no shame in them."
"She is a wicked woman, Bob; she ought to be in prison instead of poor Hector. I believed at the trial she shot Elroy, and I always shall," said his wife.
"Who is that beautiful woman who was talking to Mr. Rolfe?" asked Rita.
"She is Mrs. Elroy," said Picton.
Rita knew nothing about Hector's troubles; she was young at the time of the trial.
Something in his manner of speaking caused her to ask: "You do not like her?"
"No; she is a woman with a past, a very bad past, but she faces it out, and is recognized by some people. I should not like you to know her," he said.
"Men are very unmerciful to a woman who errs," she said.
"If you knew as much about her as I, you would agree with me that she ought to be treated as an outcast; she is not fit to be in the company of respectable people," he said bitterly.
This was so unlike Picton that she felt he must have strong grounds for what he said. Her curiosity was aroused; Mr. Rolfe might enlighten her.
"Let us go and see Tearaway," she said, and at the mention of his favorite's name Picton's face cleared, the shadows flitted away, he was himself again.
Brant Blackett came up hastily, a troubled look on his face.
"What's the matter?" asked Picton anxiously.
"Erickson's been taken suddenly ill," he said. "I'm afraid he'll not be able to ride."