A great crowd at Epsom, a Derby Day crowd bent on enjoyment and backing winners. Ella gazed at the wonderful scene in astonishment; it was different from anything she had seen.
It was not a new sight to Eve, and she smiled at her friend's amazement.
"I never expected anything like this," said Ella.
"Is it equal to a Melbourne Cup crowd?" asked Eve.
"More people, of course; but it is quite different."
"In what way?"
"I hardly know, everything is different, the course, the people, the stands, the ring, that seething mass down there," and she pointed to Tattersalls.
"Wait till you see the favorite's number go up, then there'll be something to look at," said Alan.
"Is Merry Monarch favorite?" she asked.
"No, Gold Star and he'll about win."
"Don't you believe him," said Eve, "he's deceiving you; my tip will win, Merry Monarch, I had it straight from the Baron."
"Who's the Baron?" asked Ella.
"A great admirer of Eve's," said Alan.
"Is that true?" asked Ella.
"Mr. Chesney states it as a fact; I am not aware of it," was the reply.
They went into the paddock and inspected some of the horses, but the crush was so great they were glad to return to the box.
Half an hour before the great race there was a scene of unparalleled excitement, for there had been much wagering for some weeks and several of the runners were heavily backed. Orbit came with a rush in the market and touched four to one; Merry Monarch was at eights, a good price, for the Baron was a popular idol with the public.
Nothing, however, shook the position of Gold Star, who was firm as a rock, and Alan accepted five to four about him in thousands; somehow, he was not inclined to save on Merry Monarch, was it because the Baron had given Eve the tip?
The parade was interesting; the new colors of the sixteen riders flashed in the sun, the horses' coats shone like satin.
Gunner was on the favorite. Tommy Colley rode Orbit, Ben Bradley Merry Monarch. He was a great horseman, quite at the top of the tree. His finishes were superb, he had snatched many a race out of the fire—on the post.
Nothing looked better than the Baron's horse as they went past on the way to the post; the scarlet jacket glided along quickly, heading the others. Gold Star and Orbit were much fancied. Curlew, Halton, and Sniper had friends. Postman was the outsider, a two-hundred-to-one chance; only a few pounds went on him for the sake of the odds.
Thousands of people watched the horses, little dreaming that in another twelve months Epsom Downs would be vacant on Derby Day and wounded soldiers the only occupants of the stand, turned into a hospital. There was, however, a shadow of war over the land, and rumors had been ripe for some time that all was not well. Nobody on this wonderful day, however, anticipated the storm would burst so soon. There had been false alarms before, rumblings of thunder from Europe, but the country was lulled with a sense of security which events completely shattered. Hundreds of men watching the Derby were lying dead on the battlefields before twelve months had passed.
The race commenced, and after a roar of "They're off!" the shouting ceased, there was a peculiar stillness for a few moments, then the hubbub broke out again, gradually increasing as the horses came along.
"What's that in white?" asked Eve.
"Postman, a two-hundred-to-one chance," said Alan.
The outsider was lengths in front, his jockey had been instructed to come right away and do the best he could. It was a forlorn hope, such tactics were more likely to succeed than others because they would not be anticipated.
Gold Star and Merry Monarch were racing together in good positions; so were Orbit and Curlew; while Sniper was at the tail end of the field.
Ella thought it a strange uphill and down course, very different from the flat tracks of Flemington, Caulfield, and Ranwick. She would not have been surprised to see a spill at one of the bends, and when Tattenham Corner was reached she gave a gasp as she saw two or three riders dangerously near the rails. Once in the straight the excitement broke loose, the strange, wonderful excitement a race for the Derby causes and which is like no other vast human emotion anywhere, and for any cause. The Derby thrill has a hold upon people that nothing else has, and is repeated year after year. There are men who have seen many Derbies decided and for thirty years or more in succession have experienced the thrill of the race.
A Derby transplanted from Epsom is a mere ordinary race. It is the famous surroundings cause the fascination, and Epsom Downs shares the fame of Derby Day.
Gold Star picked his way through to the front, and as he took the lead there was a tremendous shout for the favorite. It made Ella start, and Eve said:
"Something worth seeing and hearing, is it not?"
"Wonderful!" exclaimed Ella, her face eager with excitement.
Although Gold Star held such a prominent position his victory was not yet assured, for on the right, in the center of the course, came Merry Monarch, and Orbit, with Postman still struggling gamely. They reached the stands amid terrific din, a pandemonium of sound, and people pressed hard on to the rails, five or six deep, in the vain hope of seeing the tops of the riders' heads, and gleaning some information as to the likely winner from the color of their caps.
As they neared the Judge's box Ben Bradley prepared for his famous rush. He had Merry Monarch well in hand, the horse had not yet felt the pressure, that was to come suddenly, in a second. Gold Star strode up the rise followed by Orbit, and again and again he was proclaimed the winner.
But a race is never won until the winning-post is passed, and much may happen in a few strides. Tommy's vigorous riding gave his mount a chance; but Bradley pushed Merry Monarch on, and inch by inch, yard by yard, he raced up to the favorite, joined issue, and a great finish began.
The tumult was tremendous. Ella was amazed; she had seen the excitement of a Melbourne Cup but it was nothing to this. The crowd swayed in masses, the movement dazzled; it resembled a flickering film before the "movies" were improved upon.
Down the course thousands of people, commencing at Tattenham Corner were running at top speed, anxious to discover what had won. Before they knew, the result was out in Fleet Street and the boys were careering toward the City and the West End spreading the tidings.
Bradley's great rush proved effective. He got every ounce out of his mount and Merry Monarch beat Gold Star by half a length. The usual scene followed as the winner was turned round and came back to the enclosure through a living lane, the Baron proudly leading his horse, raising his hat in answer to the deafening cheers. It was the great moment of his life, as it is to every man who has experienced the sensation of leading in a Derby winner.
Eve was delighted, she had a good win. She chaffed Alan unmercifully; he took it in good part. Ella looked at him sympathetically, she had lost her money.
"I suppose you were on the winner?" said Harry Morby.
"No, I followed Mr. Chesney's advice," said Ella ruefully.
Eve heard her and said:
"It's your own fault; I gave you the tip, the Baron's tip—it was worth following."
Next day The Duke won the Royal Stakes and Evelyn Berkeley's friends had another good win.
Oaks Day turned out most enjoyable. The sun shone brightly, the ladies were in force, the dresses worthy of the occasion.
Alan had paid particular attention to Eve after the Derby, and any little jealousy she might have felt regarding Ella was dispelled.
Harry Morby devoted himself to Ella, and they appeared to get on well together.
The Acorn Stakes brought out ten runners, a beautiful lot of fillies, all trained to the hour; but Evelyn stood out from the rest as the gem of the lot and was a raging hot favorite at even money.
Eve wore the Chesney colors and never looked better; all eyes were on her in the paddock as she moved gracefully about with Alan and her friends. From the box they looked down into the ring and heard the cries of "Even money the field."
"The money is being piled on your namesake," said Harry. "She is splendid; and by Jove, Miss Berkeley, you're more than a match for her! You're positively dazzling! She must win—she can't help it. I saw her eying you in the paddock—wonder what she thought?"
Eve laughed heartily as she said:
"So you think she will win. I hope so. Evelyn's a good name for a winner."
"It is, you are always a winner," said Harry.
"I'm not so sure about that," replied Eve; and he saw her glance rested on Alan.
"He's having a wonderful week," said Harry, following her glance.
"Splendid. Don't you think he deserves his luck?"
"Yes; he's a generous, warm-hearted fellow, but in some things he's blind."
"Indeed? What are they?"
"I will not venture to say; perhaps you can guess," answered Harry, laughing.
Baron Childs entered the box. He soon monopolized Eve; it was evident he admired her.
"Better chance it," said Harry to Alan; "you may lose her."
He laughed as he said:
"I can't compete with the Baron."
When the tapes went up Evelyn jumped off in front, racing down the slope at a great pace.
Fred Skane had said it was the best thing of the meeting and he proved right. It was marvelous how the flying filly galloped; there was no fault in her movements. Tommy sat still, letting her run her own race. It was her first appearance and she showed no signs of nervousness.
She lead from start to finish, winning in a canter by five lengths in very fast time; a great performance, recognized and cheered as such.
"It was good of you, Alan, to call such a flyer Evelyn," said Eve.
Carl Meason was active, traveling about the country in his motor, waxing enthusiastic over the scenery, expatiating to Abel Head on the beauties of Nottinghamshire.
"Never been on such roads; they are splendid. You can go the pace, there's plenty of room, not too much traffic. I like to bowl along without endangering lives. I'm a careful driver and avoid danger."
At night he still worked at his maps, the occupation being congenial.
"The reason I'm a good surveyor," he said, "is because I like my work; a man never does well when his occupation is against his inclinations."
Abel listened, making few remarks. He had his opinion about Meason and his motoring tours. Letters seldom came to the Sherwood Inn for Meason, he had but little correspondence, his instructions were explicit, requiring no reminders. He seemed fond of the country life, walked in the parks when he had nothing special on hand. His figure became familiar, but so far he had hardly spoken to anybody.
Once or twice he met Jane Thrush and admired her good looks, but was careful not to offend, and had not spoken to her although he wished to do so. Jane took very little notice of people she did not know, but she could not fail to see that Carl went out of his way to meet her. This amused her. She wondered why he crossed her path. If he spoke to her she would not be offended; in the country greetings were often passed without an introduction.
Meason saw her go into the old ruins and wondered what she did there.Once he waited a long time for her to come out and she did not appear.
Next time he was in that direction he went into the place and was surprised to see a neat, pretty cottage almost hidden away in one corner. He wondered who lived there, probably the girl and her parents. He asked Abel about the place and found the head-keeper and his daughter occupied it.
"Is that the pretty girl I sometimes see in the Park?" he asked.
"No doubt," said Abel: "that's Jane Thrush. She's lived there with her father nearly all her life."
"Queer place for a young girl; it must be lonely," said Carl.
"She doesn't find it so. She'd rather live there than anywhere; and she's quite safe, nobody would dare interfere with her. Tom's a roughish customer; any slight or insult to his daughter would be resented," said Abel, looking at him in a peculiar way.
A few days later Carl met Jane Thrush going toward Little Trent. He bade her good-morning and she replied. Her tone was friendly. He made advances which she did not resent and said, in answer to his question, she had no objection to his walking with her to the village. Carl was delighted; he was never short of conversation, and he was the man to interest such a girl. He spoke with deference, explaining he was staying at the Sherwood Inn and found it lonely. It was quite a treat to have somebody to talk to, Abel Head was not very loquacious.
Jane laughed as she said:
"Abel can talk fast enough sometimes; you ought to hear him and Father, they are never at a loss for something to say."
"I don't think I have met your father," he said.
"He's seldom out in the daytime; his duties are mostly at night. He'sMr. Chesney's game-keeper."
"That's an important position I should think; there seems to be plenty of game in Trent Park."
"There is when you know where to find it. Do you know Mr. Chesney?"
"I have not that pleasure. Of course you know him?"
"Very well; he is a nice man, so friendly. He gave me Jack," said Jane.
"Who's Jack?"
"My dog, a big black retriever; he's generally with me but I left him at home to-day; there have been tramps about lately."
"Poachers?"
"Oh no, they are quite different, but Father can't bear the sight of such men. He says they are useless vagabonds and will steal anything they can lay their hands on."
Carl smiled.
"I wonder if he thinks I'm one of that sort?" he said.
"He knows you are not. Abel told him you are always very busy making maps, that you are a surveyor."
"So he's talked me over with Abel?"
"Yes; I fancy they both wonder why you picked on Sherwood Inn to work in."
"That's easily explained; because it's quiet, and such a splendid country. I love the country; I came across it quite by accident, I was motoring and stopped there for lunch; it struck me as an ideal place to work in," he said.
"And when you are not at work you like to ramble about the country."
"Yes, it is a pleasant relaxation. There are many charming spots about here I have not seen, there is no one to guide me," he said. "That old ruin where your cottage is must have an interesting history, and the keep with the moat round."
"It is, very interesting. I know a good deal about it. Mr. Chesney lent me a book which gives a very good description of it and what it used to be," said Jane.
"Perhaps you will let me see it?" he said.
"I cannot lend it to you, but I will show it to you if——" she hesitated.
"Will you allow me to call and see it?" he asked.
"I do not know whether my father would like it; I will ask him."
"Do, please; I shall be so much obliged. Perhaps he will show me round when he has a little spare time?"
"Father does not take to everybody, but I think he will like you," saidJane naïvely.
Carl Meason felt gratified at this remark.
"Why do you think he will like me?" he asked.
"Because you talk well; he likes a chat with a well-informed man."
"You think I am well informed?"
"Yes; you have traveled in many countries; it must be interesting. I have not gone far from here, only Nottingham."
"No farther, never been to London?"
"Never."
"Would you like to go?"
"Yes, but not to stay there; I do not care for cities."
They were in Little Trent and as they passed the Sherwood Inn Abel Head saw them.
"Well, I'm dashed!" he exclaimed. "I wonder what Tom would say to that. Confound the fellow, he seems to make headway. Wonder how Jane came across him?"
Carl left her shortly after and went into the Inn. He knew Abel had seen them, saw him looking through the window.
"Nice girl, Jane Thrush," said Carl; "a very nice girl, and seems well brought up."
"She is a nice girl," replied Abel; "also well brought up. How came you to know her?"
"Quite casually; said good-morning; she responded. Asked her if I might have the pleasure of walking to the village with her; no harm done, I assure you. What I like about this country is people are so free and easy; it's far better, much pleasanter, don't you think so?" said Carl.
"It all depends. It is as well not to trust strangers. I don't thinkTom Thrush would like his daughter to talk to anybody," said Abel.
"Good Lord, why not? Why shouldn't she talk to me?" exclaimed Carl.
"Ask him; perhaps he'll tell you," said Abel.
"I will. She's promised to ask him to show me round when he has a bit of spare time."
"Has she now? Well, I'm blessed! I wonder what he'll say?"
"I'll make it worth his while. I don't suppose he'll be too proud to accept a fiver," said Carl.
To this Abel said nothing. He knew Tom Thrush's failing—love of money. The game-keeper was not miserly, but he dearly loved handling gold, and Abel surmised he had saved a "tidy sum."
As Jane walked home alone, she thought what a pleasant gentleman the stranger was, and how nicely he talked; she never for a moment dreamed there was any harm in speaking to him or allowing him to walk with her to the village. Jane Thrush never knew a mother's care, at least not long enough to influence her life, and her father left her very much to herself. She was accustomed to talk to people she met, tourists, and visitors to Trent Park and the Forest. Intercourse with them broadened her views; she regarded Carl Meason as one of them and he had proved agreeable.
As for Carl Meason, he was eager to meet her again; he had few scruples where such girls as Jane Thrush were concerned, and he felt he had made a favorable impression which he meant to cultivate.
"She's a very pretty lass indeed," he said to himself. "Quite innocent, sees no harm in anything, not even me. I'll beard her father in his cottage; it won't take me long to find out his weaknesses, I'm used to it. I'm glad I spoke to her; she'll help to kill time in this infernal slow hole. I shall be glad when things get a move on. By Jove, if the folks round here ever find out what I am when the business begins in earnest, there'll be ructions. I shall have to clear out quick. There's a lot of risk in what I'm doing but the pay's good and it will be a lot better later on. What fools they are in England! Can't see danger, never suspect anybody."
Jane spoke to her father about meeting Carl Meason. He did not consider it anything out of the way for his daughter to walk to the village with him; he knew she was often asked questions about the neighborhood by strangers; sometimes he showed them round when they made it worth his while; he was always eager to add a few pounds to his store. He had every confidence in Jane; she was self-reliant, not a "silly wench" whose head was likely to be turned by compliments.
"What sort of man is he?" he asked. "Abel don't seem to think much of him anyhow."
"You'll like his company; he talks well, and knows a lot. Abel's not accustomed to a man like this," said Jane.
"It puzzles me what he is doing at a place like Little Trent," said her father.
"He told me he came across the Sherwood Inn when he was motoring and thought it just the place for him to work quietly in," she said.
"A surveyor, Abel says; not much he don't find out," said Tom.
"There's company at The Forest," said Jane. "A beautiful lady, almost a match for Miss Berkeley."
"Never a match for her, there couldn't be; she's the most beautiful woman of her time, and also a good 'un; I often think Mr. Chesney is a fool not to marry her," said Tom.
"Perhaps she'll not have him, Father; he may have asked her," answeredJane.
"I saw him to-day," said Tom.
"Mr. Chesney?"
"Yes; he gave me a present, and there's one for you, Jane. Here it is; he never forgets folks when he has a win," said Tom, handing her a small parcel.
Jane opened it eagerly, then gave a gasp and an exclamation of delighted surprise.
"Isn't it beautiful, Father! How good of him!" And she showed him a small horseshoe brooch set with rubies; it was an exquisite piece of jewelry.
"Must have cost a tidy bit," said Tom, as he handled it tenderly.
Duncan Fraser sat in his private room at the brewery in deep thought; no one interrupted him: he gave orders and they were never disobeyed. A stern-looking man, not given to making many friends, yet there was a kindly heart beneath a severe exterior. The manager of a great concern, he was admirably suited to the position, accustomed to handle and make decisions promptly, no shilly-shallying or "wait and see" about his actions. Very few people were aware he possessed unique opportunities of getting behind the scenes, learning government moves, acquiring knowledge beforehand which was advantageous in his dealings.
Information had recently come to him from a valued and trusted correspondent in Germany, and he was considering how best to use it to the advantage of the firm. The heavy taxes on the brewers hit Chesney's hard, but they were able to stand them better than most firms; still he knew there must be a considerable diminution in dividends, consequently in Alan Chesney's income.
It irritated him when he thought how careless the head of the firm was in money matters. Alan appeared to regard the brewery as a huge concern from which he could drain money as freely as beer ran into the casks. He made up his mind to talk seriously to Alan; he had a high opinion of his judgment and intelligence when he cared to exert those qualities. He expected him to arrive in half an hour and knew what to expect. Alan would rush up in his motor, say he had only a few minutes to spare, then dash off again as he arrived—in a hurry.
The head of the firm was always in a hurry; never seemed to have a minute to spare; the "racing rush" took hold of him. Duncan Fraser smiled grimly as he thought how Alan careered about the country in pursuit of his favorite pastime.
"Here he is," said Duncan, as he heard the powerful motor stop, and thud.
Alan came into the room in a hurry. He was not in the best of humors; why the deuce couldn't Fraser manage without dragging him there? He had carte blanche as to how he should act.
"Suppose you'll not keep me long," said Alan impatiently.
"Longer than usual," was the reply.
"Hang it all, I want to go to the races this afternoon. You must cut it short, please, Fraser."
"This is more important than racing; I have just received some valuable information from Berlin."
Alan became interested.
"Berlin!" he exclaimed. "What's up there?"
"War; it will break out before long."
"Who is your informant?"
Fraser handed him the letter.
"Read that," he said.
Alan did so.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "This looks serious. Can you rely upon it?"
"Yes," said Fraser, with a characteristic snap of his firm lips.
Alan put the letter down and a gloomy look settled on his face.
"War," he said, "and I'll be out of it, confound the thing! I'm sorryI don't hold a commission."
"I am not. You can't be in the army and look after things here," saidFraser.
"You look after them. It's no use trying to convince me I'm necessary to the existence of the firm, because I'm not; I haven't the governor's capacity for business," said Alan.
"I don't know so much about that; you've never been properly tested."
Alan laughed.
"And have no desire to be," he said.
"I have drawn up some figures; they are formidable. If you agree to my plans, and war breaks out, we shall save hundreds of thousands of pounds. It means a tremendous outlay, but it's worth it; just go into this, I'll be back in half an hour," said Fraser, as he placed some long sheets on the table.
"I'm no hand at figures," said Alan.
"You'll see the force of these in five minutes," said Fraser.
"Then why give me half an hour?"
"Because I want you to thoroughly master them; I can't undertake the responsibility alone."
"Would you undertake it if you owned the brewery?"
"Yes."
"That's enough for me, but I'll go into them to satisfy you."
"And yourself, you'll be more than satisfied," said Fraser as he left the room.
Alan became interested in the figures, which related to the buying of barley, hops, and a variety of brewing necessaries.
"What a grasp of figures he has!" muttered Alan. "Convincing too; I can see it plain enough. Hundreds of thousands saved; he's right—if there's war."
That was the main point—war; and all depended on the information Duncan Fraser had received from his correspondent in Berlin. He was still studying the papers, making pencil notes, when Fraser entered the room. The manager smiled as he saw him.
"You're a wonderful man," said Alan, looking up.
Fraser shook his head.
"You're wrong; there's nothing wonderful about me. I'm a fair business man, I look ahead, and I know my own mind once I see things clearly. How does it work out?" he asked.
"It's splendid, the outlay is enormous, it will be perfectly justified if war breaks out; everything will rise rapidly, and there'll be a tremendous taxation," said Alan.
"What would you advise?" asked Fraser.
"Risk it and buy as you suggest," said Alan.
"There is no risk if you allude to war; it's bound to come. Do you know there are thousands of German spies in this country? There are two or three here in the firm, and they've got to go," said Fraser.
Alan laughed.
"You'll make a clean sweep of them?" he said.
"Yes, and no delay about it. There's——" and he mentioned the names."Are you of my opinion?"
"Yes; you must give them some reason, they work well."
"They all do, but it's in their interests—I mean the interests of their country. They worm out secrets, they are utterly unscrupulous, nothing is safe from them," said Fraser.
"Then out with them. I say, Fraser, you get hold of some remarkable information; how do you manage it?" asked Alan.
"I pick my friends; I am careful. What do you think that letter fromBerlin is worth?" asked Fraser.
"A good round sum."
"A thousand?"
"Yes."
"Then he shall have it."
"You think it is worth that?"
"I do."
"Then we can't be far out in giving it," said Alan.
"You think I am too careful?"
"Yes."
"It would be better if you were," was the answer.
Alan moved impatiently in his chair.
"I don't consider I spend too much."
Duncan Fraser looked at him with a kindly light in his somewhat hard eyes.
"This is a great business," he said slowly, "or it would never stand the strain. Take my advice and cut down expenses; we're in for lean years."
Alan laughed as he replied:
"What an old croaker you are!"
He got up, put on his motor coat and held out his hand.
"I am glad you sent for me," he said. "I shall just have time to get to the course before the first race."
"Would it matter if you missed it?" said Fraser quietly.
"No actual damage would be done if I did miss it. Still, I'd rather be there; I promised to meet some friends."
"Then I conclude you agree with me and will buy?"
"Certainly; it will be a great stroke of business. I wonder if others are thinking of the same thing?"
"They do not know as much as we—yet," replied Fraser.
"Will you join me at Trent Park for the weekend?" said Alan. "There will be no visitors."
"With pleasure," replied Fraser. "I always enjoy a few days at your lovely place."
On Friday Duncan went to Trent Park. Alan welcomed him cordially, although he had half repented asking him: the manager's presence always seemed to subdue everything, even Alan's exuberant spirits. This feeling, however, quickly vanished on the present occasion, for Duncan Fraser was in an unusually cheerful mood and for once in a way left business behind him.
Alan had to meet a prospective buyer at the Stud, and as Duncan knew nothing, and cared less, about horses he preferred to go for a stroll in the Park. During his walk he met Eve Berkeley and her friend, Ella Hallam. The manager saw little of ladies' society, but he knew Eve and liked her; he could hardly fail to be attracted by her.
He went to The Forest with them and remained for lunch. He knew Alan would not miss him, probably surmise where he was. He rather liked Ella, she was unaffected and talked freely on many subjects; when he left she told Eve she thought him a very agreeable man.
Eve laughed as she replied:
"He is a very sensible man. It is lucky for Alan he has him in charge at Chesney's, or I'm afraid the business would be sadly neglected."
"Is Mr. Chesney not a good business man?" asked Ella.
"Not according to Mr. Fraser."
Ella was rather disappointed she had not met Alan Chesney since her stay at The Forest. She wondered why he did not call; Eve told her he often came.
Duncan Fraser explained where he had been and pronounced in favor ofElla Hallam.
"By Jove! I forgot all about her being at The Forest," said Alan. "I met her in Derby week, a jolly girl; I daresay she improves on acquaintance."
"She evidently did not make much of an impression on you," said Duncan smiling.
"I wonder how long she will stay?" said Alan, half to himself.
"I think she said she was going to London to meet her father."
"He's bringing one or two horses from Australia; he has a great opinion of them; I must try and convince him ours are better."
"Strange how some men are so fascinated by horses," said Fraser.
"You care nothing about them?" said Alan, with a tinge of contempt in his voice.
"No, they have never interested me; perhaps it is because I never had any spare time for them; I've been a worker all my life."
"You despise racing men?"
"Oh no; I think some of them are uncommonly sharp," said Duncan.
"They are too sharp sometimes," laughed Alan.
"Sorry I have not called before," said Alan, as he shook hands withElla Hallam, "but by way of a change I have been busy."
"I thought you were always busy," she replied.
"On the contrary, I am afraid I neglect my duties sometimes, but then I have such an excellent manager."
"Mr. Fraser?"
"Yes. You have met him; what do you think of him?" asked Alan.
"I like him. He struck me as a man of strong character," she answered.
"He is. He has a wonderful grasp of everything connected with the firm," said Alan.
Eve entered the room. She said:
"I thought you had forgotten I lived at The Forest."
Alan laughed.
"I'm not likely to forget that," he said.
"My father arrives next week," said Ella. "I have written to him; he will get the letter at Naples. I told him you were anxious to test the merits of his horses."
"He is coming here," said Eve. "I thought it would be nice for Ella to welcome him at The Forest."
"And I shall be delighted to show him round; he will be interested in my stud," said Alan.
"I hear it is one of the best in England," said Ella.
"I think it compares favorably with most of them," he answered.
He remained about an hour, declined to stay for lunch, and Eve did not press him.
He motored to the stud and found Sam Kerridge, his stud groom, waiting for him. Sam had been at the stud since its foundation. He was a clever man with horses, an excellent judge, and a shrewd buyer.
"That American has been here again," he said. "He's dead set on buyingMameluke; I have tried to convince him he's not for sale."
"So have I," said Alan with a laugh. "Perhaps he thinks you can persuade me to part with him; Valentine Braund is a persevering man."
"Like most Americans, he has plenty of cheek," said Sam. "It's a big offer he has made."
"Thirty thousand, and Mameluke's not a young horse," said Alan.
"It's tempting," said Sam.
"I have half a mind to take it," said Alan. "There's Alfonso coming on; he ought to make a name for himself."
"He will. I think he'll beat Mameluke's record," said Sam.
"That will be difficult. What did you say to Braund?"
"Not much; he didn't seem to believe me when I said money would not buy him."
"I'll think it over; it's a big price," said Alan.
He went round the stud with Sam and as usual found everything in order. Mameluke was a splendid dark bay horse, Alfonso a bright chestnut; there was little to choose between them in point of appearance. Alan was very fond of Mameluke; the horse had done good service at the stud, sired many big winners, and he was reluctant to part with him. Alfonso was worthy to take his place as the leading sire. He was a much younger horse and his stock already showed great promise.
The mares were a splendid lot; the best blood in the world coursed through their veins, and Alan never spared expense when he wished to purchase. When he left, Sam Kerridge wondered what had induced him to change his mind.
"He's inclined to consider the American's offer," he thought. "It's a tall price, and I don't think Mameluke, at his age, is worth any more. I shan't be surprised if the deal comes off."
The reason Alan was inclined to consider Valentine Braund's offer for Mameluke favorably was because of the information he had received from Duncan Fraser's Berlin correspondent. He knew if there was war it would make a vast difference to racing, and that the price of thoroughbreds would be considerably lowered. Thirty thousand is not a sum to be ignored, even by a very rich man, and Alan knew Mameluke had seen his best days. He did not care to part with an old favorite, but it was folly to refuse such an offer when prospects, on looking ahead, were not favorable to breeders. He decided to write to Braund and ask if he were still inclined to make his offer for the horse. He did so, and had not long to wait for a reply.
Valentine Braund came to Trent Park next day and said he was ready to pay the money and take Mameluke over when he had made arrangements to ship him to New York. The bargain was concluded and, under the circumstances, Alan thought he could do no better than invite the purchaser to stay a few days with him. This Braund readily agreed to, and Alan found him a pleasant companion.
Valentine Braund was the head of an American steel trust, and a man of many millions. Thirty thousand pounds for a horse, or for anything he wanted, mattered little to him. A self-made man, he had worked up from a humble position until he piled up wealth beyond his most sanguine dreams. His energies were unbounded, he possessed a never-ending flow of animal spirits, his confidence in himself was immense, he talked and expressed his opinions freely.
Alan could not help liking the man although his manners were hardly to his taste. Braund did not brag, but it was easy to see that he considered money a passport to any society. He was good-looking although his features were somewhat coarse, and his abrupt manner of speaking might have offended some fastidious people.
Eve Berkeley heard the American was at Trent Park; Alan had already described him to her, also told her of his offer for Mameluke. She was interested, thought she would like to meet him. She invited Alan to bring him to The Forest. He mentioned it to Braund, who was eager to accept, and accordingly they went.
Valentine thought American women "licked creation," and said so most emphatically, but when he saw Eve Berkeley he was astonished at her beauty, and acknowledged to himself that he had never seen a woman to beat her, "not even in New York." Alan was amused at his open admiration of Eve; he laughed when Braund said:
"What a woman, splendid! She's a tip-top beauty; she'd create a sensation in New York."
"I thought you'd like her," said Alan.
"Like her! Good heavens, she's past liking, miles beyond it; she's adorable."
"And her friend, Miss Hallam?" asked Alan.
"A beauty, but not the equal of Miss Berkeley, not by a long way," saidBraund.
This conversation took place before dinner when they were alone for a few minutes.
"I thought American women 'licked creation,'" said Alan, imitating him.
"Now there you have me. As a rule they do, but Miss Berkeley—she's superb," said Braund enthusiastically.
The dinner was a success; they were lively. Braund devoted himself toEve, and Alan was occupied with Ella.
"I've bought Mr. Chesney's horse Mameluke," said Braund. "I gave him thirty thousand for him and I don't consider him dear. What do you think of the horse?"
"He's one of the best we have, and I am surprised Mr. Chesney has parted with him," said Eve.
"So am I, but then money is money and it was cash down," said Braund.
"Mr. Chesney has plenty of money—I wonder why he sold him?" said Eve.
"You don't think there's anything wrong with the horse?" asked Braund sharply.
"Oh no," laughed Eve; "don't be alarmed. Mr. Chesney would not have sold him to you had such been the case."
"No, I suppose not; but I've known men who would," said Braund.
"In America?" asked Eve, with a merry twinkle in her eyes.
"Yes; there's some pretty cute hands at a bargain in my country."
"But it would be dishonest," protested Eve.
"We don't call it that," said Braund.
"Then what do you call it?" she asked.
"It would be regarded as a cute bit of business. A man is supposed to look after his interests; if another man gets the better of him, it's all in the game. We admire the man who gets the better of another man," said Braund.
Eve laughed as she said:
"I am afraid that is not my way of looking at things."
"No, of course not; how could it be?" said Braund quickly.
Eve was amused at him. He had an unending flow of conversation, his remarks were original, he expressed opinions freely in a way she was not accustomed to hear. On the whole he created, if not an altogether favorable impression, at least a curiosity to know more of him.
It was a pleasant evening, and as they motored back to Trent Park theAmerican expressed his entire approval of the visit.
"Two very sensible women," he said; "also very charming. You're lucky to live here; I suppose you see a good deal of them?"
Alan said he did, and changed the subject. He was not inclined to discuss Eve Berkeley with him.
"We'll go through the village," said Alan. "It won't be dark for a long time, in fact it's light almost all night now."
He drove slowly through Little Trent. Abel Head was about to close the Sherwood Inn; Carl Meason stood near him, full in the light of the lamp, which Abel always lit, whether required or not, at the same hour.
"Quaint inns and places you have in this country," said Braund, as he noticed the sign.
Abel recognized Alan and touched his cap. Carl Meason stared at them.As his glance rested on the American he gave a slight start of surprise.
"Who is that with Mr. Chesney?" he asked.
"Don't know for sure; fancy a gentleman down here after buying one of the horses. I heard it was likely Mameluke would be sold; it's a pity, he's a great horse," said Abel.
Carl gave what sounded like a sigh of relief.
"Doesn't happen to come from America, does he?" he asked carelessly.
"Not that I'm aware of," said Abel.
Valentine Braund caught sight of Carl Meason's face in the light; he turned quickly to look again as the motor went past.
"Funny," he said. "Fancied I'd seen that fellow before."
"Which fellow?" asked Alan.
"The man under the lamp. I'm almost sure of it, but it can't be possible in this quiet place," said Braund.
"His name is Carl Meason, a surveyor I believe; he's studying maps, planning road improvements, and he wants to be quiet," said Alan.
When they arrived at the house and were seated for a quiet smoke Braund said quickly:
"I can't get that fellow out of my head—it's strange."
"How strange?" asked Alan.
"He reminds me of a man I had dealings with in America," said Braund half to himself.
"What sort of dealings?" questioned Alan.
"It's impossible of course; what would he be doing here? He reminds me of a man who once caused a lot of bloodshed at our steel works—a strike leader, if not worse," said Braund.
Alan smiled as he replied:
"Such a man would not be likely to remain at the Sherwood Inn, LittleTrent, for many weeks. He'd find it too slow for him."
"That's just it, he would; but I'd like to see him again just out of curiosity," said Braund.
"I'm going away for a few days. You'll keep my room; I'll be back at the end of the week," said Meason.
"I'll keep your room," said Abel, wishing he was leaving altogether.
Carl Meason left in his motor car. He took the road to Nottingham, which skirted Trent Park, and ran past the old monastery; he slowed down as he neared the ruin and hooted.
Jane heard it and came out; there was a small door opening on to the road.
"Thought you'd know who it was," he said smiling. "I'm off for a few days' tour, but I'll be back at the end of the week. Tell your father I shall be glad if he'll show me round on my return."
"Going away?" said Jane, rather surprised.
"Not for good. Should you be sorry if I were?"
"Yes."
"I'm glad. We seem to be on good terms," he answered.
"Why shouldn't we?"
"No reason at all; on the contrary, I like you. I hope you like me?"
"I do—that is, I think I do," said Jane.
"Not quite sure, eh?" he asked, still smiling.
She shook her head. She looked very charming in her homely dress, her cheeks glowing with health. She was not at all abashed; the self-confidence of innocence, purity of mind, protected her. At this moment Carl Meason was really in love with her; he wanted her badly. It flashed across his mind that he might do worse than marry her; she would make an excellent wife, and not ask too many questions. His look puzzled her; it meant something she did not understand. She lowered her eyes.
"Jane," he said softly, "you are a wonderful girl; I believe I am desperately in love with you."
So it was this caused him to look at her strangely; she understood now.She never doubted what he said; she raised her eyes, they met his.
"Love me?" she said quietly. "Why should you love me?"
"Because you are adorable, lovely, the best little woman in the world," he said.
She laughed merrily as she replied:
"Oh no, I'm not. Father says I have a temper."
"That's not true; you have a very lovable disposition."
"Yes, I think I have. I love lots of things; still that does not prevent one from having a bad temper."
"Jane?"
"Yes."
"Step on the car; let me have just one kiss," he spoke pleadingly.
"No, it would not be right; we are strangers."
"I hope not. I feel as though I were parting from an old and valued friend."
"I'll shake hands with you," she said.
He leaned over the side of the car and took her hand; he drew her toward him; she slipped away.
"Not yet," she said. "Someday, perhaps, when I know who and what you are."
"And if I prove desirable in every way, what then?" he asked eagerly.
"Who knows? You say you almost think you love me; perhaps, only perhaps, I may come to love you," she said.
He thought it not advisable to press her farther; he had made good headway, she was prepossessed in his favor, that was evident from her manner. He shook her hand again, then started the car; as he went round a bend in the road he turned and waved to her; she responded, then went inside and shut the gate. She sat down on a seat in the garden; the smile on her face betokened pleasant thoughts.
Carl Meason stopped the car at a well-known hotel facing the Market Place; he had been there before. From the orders he gave it appeared he had no intention of going on that day at any rate. He took his dispatch box to his room; he always carried it, never trusted it to anybody.
"You can bring my bag to my room at once," he said as he passed through the hall and went upstairs. When the hall porter put it down he was about to unstrap it.
"Never mind that; I'll do it," said Carl, handing him a tip.
He locked the door and opened his case, taking out some letters and several newspaper cuttings, which he proceeded to read carefully.
"It's Valentine Braund right enough," he muttered. "What the deuce brings him to Trent Park? Buying a horse, that's one reason. Wonder if he heard I was at Little Trent? Don't see how he could as I'm not sailing under my own name. Better perhaps if I'd not given Carl, but it's far enough from Karl Shultz to be safe. He'd like to have me laid by the heels, but he has no evidence to go upon. I got out of that mess well. It was a blow up and no mistake; nearly a hundred killed, and double the number injured. It had to be done; it frightened him and a lot more; there's several men hate me like poison over that job. They suffered while I got off free and had most of the money. Wonder if he recognized me? Don't think so; he'd never expect to come across me in such a place. Much better go away until the coast's clear. He'll not stay at Trent Park long."
He placed the letters and papers in his bag again. More than once he had made up his mind to destroy them, but something stayed his hand; they were dangerous if discovered but this was not likely to happen.
His thoughts turned to a more pleasant subject—Jane Thrush. Utterly unscrupulous though he was, even Carl Meason, as he chose to style himself, had some hesitation in plotting her downfall. She fascinated him. The women who had come into his life were totally different from her; there wasn't a point of resemblance. It was her innocence, her pure country charms, held him spellbound. Many women had helped him in his nefarious designs; they fell easy victims to his blandishments and his payments. He found them useful; one woman in particular had proved invaluable in the case of the great explosion at the Valentine Steel Works. It was Mannie Kerrnon who actually carried out his designs. He had some of her letters in his case. There was no love between them, there had been none between them; she reaped her reward in money, which she much preferred to affections.
Mannie Kerrnon was an Irishwoman on the mother's side. Her father was a blackmailer, a despicable ruffian, in the pay of a notorious New York Inspector of Police. She suspected him of killing her mother and she hated him as a murderer. It was mainly because her father, Dirk Kerrnon, was employed at the Valentine Steel Works that she undertook to help Carl Meason in his nefarious plot. It was a sad disappointment when Dirk Kerrnon escaped with a few scratches; he never suspected his daughter's hand in the affair. He entered the steel works in order to spy on Valentine Braund. The Inspector had given him some useful hints to go upon, but Braund was a careful man and more than a match for half a dozen Kerrnons.
After the affair Mannie Kerrnon quarreled with Carl Meason over the money due to her. She was outwitted and, being the woman she was, she intended being revenged on him. So far she had not succeeded, nor had she any idea where he was, or what he was doing; and he had no intention of enlightening her if he could help it. He was safe as regards the great explosion at the steel works. She could not "split" on him without compromising herself.
As Meason sat in his room at the hotel his mind went back to the old days in New York, when he was hand and glove with the biggest set of sharks in the city, and a pliable tool of Tammany when well paid for his nasty work. What little conscience—and most men have some stored away—he possessed revolted at his intentions toward Jane Thrush—not that they were entirely dishonorable, but he knew a man with such a past and present as his had no right to pollute the life of any bright, happy, innocent woman. To be troubled with scruples was new to him; he had sent innocent men to death without a tremor, had even seen men and women go to long terms of imprisonment through his instrumentality, and thought nothing of their misery; and here he was actually hesitating about sacrificing Jane Thrush on the altar of his desires. Marry her, he even went so far as to declare he would, and was astounded at his honest intentions; he actually laughed, but it was uneasily.
He went out, walked about; at night he turned into a music hall, but variety turns did not interest him; he could not raise a laugh and returned to the hotel by ten o'clock. Jane's face haunted him; no woman had ever so obsessed him. It made him angry that he, Carl Meason, should be caught in the toils, discover that a woman had a hold over him.
Gradually he pushed her into the background and thought over the work he had in hand. It was of great importance and dangerous. When war came he might be shot at any time if his doings were discovered. He was accustomed to dangers; many times had he risked his life; bad though he was, there was nothing cowardly about him. He had some contempt for death, although he dearly loved life. There are bad men who are brave, and such was he—brave, that is, in so far as he cared little for risks so long as he reaped rewards.
He passed a restless night. When he sank into a troubled sleep he imagined he was laid by the heels and about to be shot suddenly. In some unaccountable way Jane rushed up as the soldiers were about to fire, with a reprieve. He awoke quivering with joyful excitement at being saved from sudden death. It gave him an appetite for breakfast.
TheNottingham Guardianwas perused; from it he learned that Valentine Braund, the American steel magnate, had purchased Mr. Alan Chesney's famous horse, Mameluke, for thirty thousand pounds and his destination was New York. He was more interested in reading that Mr. Braund had been Mr. Chesney's guest at Trent Park for a few days and was returning to London on Saturday.
"That suits me," said Carl to himself. "I'll get back to Little Trent that day; I'll drop a note to surly Abel and advise him."
Before noon he motored to Derby; from there he went to Haddon Hall and Chatsworth. He was fond of beautiful scenery and Derbyshire pleased him. He was, however, more familiar with Norfolk and the coast towns; roads running from the coast interested him and he knew most of them from Hunstanton as far north as Scarborough. He was later to make sinister use of the knowledge.