The battle raged; the German hordes pushed forward; the great retreat began. Paris seemed about to fall and there was anxiety in the Allied forces. Prodigies of valor were chronicled in a few lines of space; the British army, greatly outnumbered, was holding the enemy. The advance was slow, a wonderful retreat, perhaps the most heroic known until almost equaled by the Russians later on.
Then came the news that the enemy was checked, they in turn were driven back when Paris seemed within their grasp. The Germans were held and the situation saved. It was marvelous, and the "little army," under Sir John French was covered in glory. Britain thrilled at the news of her soldiers' bravery. They fought as of old, fought as at Waterloo, at Inkerman, at the Alma, and Balaklava. They had not degenerated, the same spirit animated them; they knew how to die, and how to win. For forty years the Germans had been trained for war, and their masses were held up by men who had known peace for many years.
The Sherwoods had their chance and took it. The Uhlans were no match for them; they were bowled over like ninepins. Men and horses fell in heaps before the terrible charge. Captain Chesney was in the thick of it all. Rash, brave, knowing no danger, he was a typical cavalry officer; and that master of cavalry tactics, Sir John French, heard of his bravery and recognized it. After their first action Alan Chesney was the idol of the Sherwoods. The men followed him into the jaws of death and cheered as he led them on. Nothing could stand before them, their impetuosity overcame all obstacles; they lost many men but gained imperishable renown.
Eve Berkeley read the meager accounts of the fighting and grew impatient, longing for more, wondering why publicity was not given to the doings of the bravest of the brave. Alan's name cropped up once or twice, she gathered from the vague lines that he had done wonders, that his bravery was conspicuous, that his men loved him, and she was proud of him.
Week after week passed and she only had one or two lines from him. There was no time to write long letters, she must wait until he was out of the saddle for an hour or two. She knew how difficult it must be to write, yet longed to hear, and each morning looked for a letter. When it did not come she scanned the papers in fear and trembling. She little knew the narrow escapes he had already experienced, and he came out of terrible frays with hardly a scratch. When horses were shot under him a trooper was always ready with another for him with a "take mine, sir." Alan reveled in the fury of the charge; his whole body thrilled as he galloped down on the Uhlans at headlong speed. This was soldiering indeed; no playing; deadly, grim earnest, a toss-up for life or death. He grieved at the loss of men, but the fewer in number the more they were united and proved irresistible. During the retreat they were here and there and everywhere, scouting, thwarting the enemy, breaking up his plans, a thorn in his side pricking deep. Seldom out of the saddle, he had little time to think of home and Eve Berkeley.
At Trent Park things went on much as usual. Eve went over occasionally; her visits were in no way resented, everything was made smooth for her.
At the stud she was always welcome. Sam Kerridge appreciated her at her full worth; said she knew more about horses than half the men he met, that she had an eye for a good 'un, and could fault the inferior sort.
"Blest if I couldn't leave her in charge for a month without the slightest fear of anything going wrong," he said.
Alfonso had taken the place of Mameluke, and there seemed every chance of his being as popular with owners of mares, but the shadow of war over the land was likely to have some effect on the big studs. Already there was talk of cutting down expenses and selling off.
Carl Meason still had his rooms at the Sherwood Inn and Abel Head wondered if he were right in his surmise that he was a spy. He argued that a spy would hardly bury himself at Little Trent in war time; still, there was no telling. Meason went out in his motor at night more than usual; moreover he carried a very powerful light and there was an unusually strong one inside the car.
"What's this for?" asked Abel as he examined it.
"The police are very particular about lights, so I've got this ready in case one of the others goes out," was the reply.
"Must give a powerful glare," commented Abel.
"It does. Nothing like seeing far enough ahead," said Carl.
Abel was not satisfied. He had never seen such big lamps inside a car before and he did not believe Meason's reason for having it. Although he had plenty on hand Carl Meason found time to meet Jane Thrush. After much persuasion he induced her to go in his car to Nottingham to see the sights, and strange to say Tom raised no objections. Thrush seemed favorably impressed with Meason; no doubt an occasional fiver helped in this direction, for Tom was fond of money.
"Where's the harm?" he said to himself. "Jane's a clever girl, knows more than the ordinary, and she's good enough for any man. He seems sweet on her. No reason why he should not marry her. There's money, not a doubt or he couldn't sling fivers about like he does."
All the same he questioned Jane closely after her return from Nottingham; but she was reticent. Not given to talking much himself he did not pay so much notice to this as he might otherwise have done.
Carl Meason was a man to attract a girl like Jane Thrush. He could be agreeable when he chose; his face concealed his real feelings—it was a mask and effectually changed the man to outward appearances. Meason was making the mistake of his life. He was fast becoming infatuated with Jane Thrush, subordinating certain objects to her, spending time in her company. The work he had in hand brooked no interference. It was sufficiently dangerous; there must be no leakage. Not a hint or a whisper must get about or he would be in grave danger on both sides. His employers were ruthless, and the authorities in England would not be likely to spare even his life if they got wind of his purpose and how he was working.
Jane Thrush held him in the hollow of her hand did she but know it. At present she was too innocent to suspect his real nature and she never dreamed what he was about. She would not have understood his affairs had they been explained to her. Jane merely saw in him a well-to-do man, who talked to her with respect, and was evidently more than half in love with her. She was not conceited although she had a proper sense of her importance and good looks, which was fostered by her father.
During the drive to Nottingham and back Carl Meason made love to her in ardent fashion and she had not repulsed him although she was careful to keep him within bounds. One thing Tom Thrush had effectually taught his daughter and that was the perils to which pretty girls are exposed. He had made no bones about it, spoke out plainly, and Jane learned the lesson well.
"Her's got no mother," Tom said to himself, "and it's my place to warn her. She'd best know what's what and then she can't stumble with her eyes open," and in his rough way he saw farther than people who avoided responsibilities in this direction.
Jane was therefore well armed against the wiles of unprincipled men, although it had hitherto been her good fortune not to encounter any. There had been kisses and embraces and Jane accepted them without much enthusiasm or response. Carl Meason's lovemaking left her cold; somehow she hardly thought it real. She did not tell Tom of these embraces and he forebore to push inquiries. His occupation made him suspicious and watchful; he was the terror of poachers and evil-doers among the game, and had tracked many notorious men down. Although he loved money he surmised that Carl Meason's occasional fivers were not given for nothing, they were to smooth the way for Jane's favor.
If the man meant well by his daughter there was no harm done; if ill, then he would settle with him in a way that would astonish before any damage was done.
Carl Meason quickly discovered he would have to play straight with Jane Thrush, also her father, and for once in a way he was inclined to do this; it was after all the easiest to get what he wanted.
So far he had never given much thought to taking a wife, but when he considered everything, turning the pros and cons over, he came to the conclusion Jane Thrush was worth some sort of sacrifice. He would not surrender any of his liberty, once she was his he would mold her to his will; he fancied this would be easy—he was mistaken, as better men have been.
It was a relief from his work to talk and make love to Jane, also to think about her at night when touring round the country in his motor. There were other things to think about, and sometimes he dreaded what might happen when the time came for the devilish engines of destruction to work. Carl valued human life little, except in the care of his own body, and had been instrumental in sending many to death. He knew there were thousands of Germans in the country; they had been spying out the land for years, and he wondered at the supineness of the authorities in allowing it. He cared little who won the war so long as he reaped his reward. He would have been willing to accept pay from both sides had it been feasible.
If he had a better side to his nature Jane Thrush seemed likely to find it, but even she would have to walk warily if in his power. Jane's pretty face had won a sort of victory over him; he acknowledged his submission with a wry grimace, thinking she would be called upon to submit in her turn.
Meanwhile Jane hesitated as to what she would do if he asked her to be his wife, as she believed he would. To solve her doubts, she asked her father. Tom eyed her curiously; he was sleepy and barely grasped her question.
"What did yer say, lass?" he asked.
"If Mr. Meason asks me to be his wife what answer shall I give him?"
Tom was awake now. This was important.
"He'll ask, you reckon?"
"I believe he will."
"Then please yourself, lass. He's a well-favored man, seems well off, he'd make a good husband," said Tom.
"Perhaps he would," said Jane doubtfully.
Race meetings gradually dropped out, they were few and far between; there was more important business on hand.
Fred Skane had sole control of Alan Chesney's horses during his absence and picked up a race or two to meet expenses. Alan had given no instructions to sell any of his horses, but Fred used his judgment and let three or four go in selling races. Alan impressed upon him to prepare a couple of horses to match against Bernard Hallam's Rainstorm and Southerly Buster, for he was anxious to demonstrate the superiority of the English horses.
Mr. Hallam brought his trainer from Australia, and Jack Wrench—his name—was granted permission to train at Newmarket. It was not long before two sterling good horses, Catspaw and Bellringer, four and five years old respectively, were purchased to lead the Australians in their work. Both horses had won good handicaps and came into the market on the departure of their owner for the front. Mr. Hallam paid a stiff price for them, but Jack Wrench had been advised they were worth it. The Australian trainer was anxious to prove that Rainstorm and Southerly Buster were equal to the best handicap horses in England.
It soon got about in racing circles that there was likely to be a match between horses of Alan Chesney and those of Bernard Hallam. This news spread far and wide, and the Australians in the fighting line were as eager about it as anybody. The Anzacs had a terrible time in Gallipoli, and the Dardanelles generally, but they were always eager to discuss sport when the Turks gave them a rest for a few hours.
Time passed quickly, and already the death roll on both sides was terrible. Still Alan escaped unhurt, and Eve expected him home on short leave; his latest letter, however, gave no hope of this for some time, but he said he would make an effort later on when his horses were fit to run. He fixed up a match with Mr. Hallam for a thousand a side between The Duke and Southerly Buster, and Bandmaster and Rainstorm, the distances a mile and two miles. The Hunt Cup winner developed into a great stayer, and as he had a wonderful turn of speed he was sanguine of beating Rainstorm.
So many race meetings were abandoned that the Newmarket programs were extended to take their place in some measure, and the headquarters of the turf became very busy. Racing men were thankful for small mercies; the extra meetings were well attended and big fields turned out for the events.
Mr. Hallam was often at Newmarket, taking great interest in the work of his horses, and Wrench gave him encouraging accounts of their progress. Both horses came well out of their gallops with Catspaw and Bellringer, and the local touts were much impressed with them.
Rainstorm was voted a beauty; the Australian horse became popular and his portrait appeared in several papers, together with interviews with Bernard Hallam.
Ella Hallam spent much of her time at The Forest with Eve Berkeley and they were firm friends. Ella knew of Eve's engagement to Alan and heartily congratulated her. Whatever she might have thought about Alan's attentions to herself she never for a moment doubted his inclinations were toward Eve; being a loyal-hearted woman she accepted the situation.
Fred Skane came to Trent Park to see Sam Kerridge. They were cronies, had been for years.
"I suppose you'll win both matches," said Sam.
"Pretty sure of it. Bandmaster will beat Rainstorm anyhow whichever way the other goes," answered Fred.
"Queer Bandmaster should turn out a stayer," said Sam.
"He's bred to stay," replied Fred.
"But he's a Hunt Cup winner and I'd hardly have expected him to be up to two miles."
"Well he is—no mistake about it. I've tried him and I know," said the trainer.
"And you don't often make mistakes, Fred."
"I'm just as liable to be mistaken as other men, but when I've something to go upon I'm not far out," replied the trainer.
"Awful job, this war," growled Sam; "upsets everything. I've lost four of my best men, and some of the others want to join up."
"Can't wonder at it. We'll need every man we have to win outright."
"Suppose we shall," said Sam. "All the same it's hard lines on a chap when he's used to the men and they're used to him."
In the evening they walked to Little Trent and went into the Sherwood Inn for a chat with Abel Head, who gave them a cordial welcome. They were favorites, and he liked a talk about racing. While they were chatting, a motor horn was heard and Abel said:
"That's Meason coming back. He's earlier than usual."
The trainer and Sam had heard of Carl Meason and were aware of Abel's opinion about him.
"He's making a long stay with you," said Fred.
"I'm about tired of him, although I'll not deny he's a good customer and pays his way," said Abel.
Carl Meason looked into the snuggery as he was passing the door.
"Come in," said Sam. "You may as well join us."
Carl entered, took off his coat, and sat down.
"When's the great match to come off?" he asked. He was always posted up on racing; he liked a flutter and never lost an opportunity of getting a useful hint.
"Hardly know yet," said Fred. "I expect we'll have to wait until Mr.Chesney gets leave. He'll want to see both races run."
"And I suppose his horses will win both matches?" said Carl.
"I hope so," said the trainer.
"You're not certain?"
"One can never be sure where racing is concerned," said Fred.
Carl laughed.
"Then what about these big coups that come off? They're pretty sure about them."
"Of course there are real good things, but even they are bowled over," said Fred.
"Clever men, you trainers," said Carl.
"Some of them," said Sam, with a wink at Abel.
"No doubt about Mr. Skane's being one of the clever men," said Carl.
"Don't know so much about that; I've been done more than once," saidFred.
"Shouldn't have thought it," said Carl. "The man who did you must have got up very early in the morning."
"Going out to-night again?" asked Abel.
"Yes, walking; I have a little business on hand that concerns my happiness," said Carl.
"Sounds a bit like courting," said Sam.
"You're not far out," was Carl's reply. "I'm thinking of getting married," he added as he left the room.
"Who's the girl?" asked Sam.
"Can't say for certain. He's been thick with Jane Thrush for a long time; they go out together. She's been in his motor to Nottingham. Can't think what Tom's about to allow it."
"He'd be a good match for her, eh?" asked Fred.
"I'm none so sure about that. What do you say, Sam?" asked Abel.
"I don't know much about the man. Jane's a very pretty girl; she's quite good enough for him," said Sam.
"I wish I could fathom him," said Abel. "He's mysterious; them roads and maps is all a blind, I feel sure."
"What makes you think so?" asked Sam.
"Nothing in particular. He keeps on tracing and tracking, and marking out spots in red ink, but I can't make head or tail of 'em," said Abel.
"Leaves them about, does he?" asked the trainer.
"Sometimes."
"There can't be much harm in what he's doing," said Fred.
Abel shook his head doubtfully.
"If he hadn't been here before the war began I'd have him put down as a spy—I'm not quite sure he isn't."
"Spying what?" asked Sam.
"The lay of the land," replied Abel.
"What for? How will that help? You don't think the Germans will come inside England?" laughed Fred.
"Not by land. They may come overhead and do some damage. What about these Zepplins they've been building for a long time?" said Abel.
The trainer laughed; so did Sam Kerridge.
"You can laugh," said Abel, "but it's my belief they'll do some damage with 'em before long."
"And you imagine Meason is planning out routes for them—is that it?" asked the trainer.
"Something of the sort. Wouldn't put it past him," said Abel.
"I can't agree with you. If he were doing that he wouldn't leave his work about," said Sam.
"He leaves about what he likes. I'll bet he has some things he would not like to be seen," said Abel.
"It's a dangerous thing to be a spy," said Sam; "and I don't think he looks like one. He'd have no time for courting if he'd a job like that."
"For two pins I'd give information against him," said Abel. "If I get half a chance, and enough evidence to go on I'll do it."
"It is a serious charge to make," said Sam, and the trainer agreed.
As they walked home they continued the conversation, and Sam gave Fred to understand there was something suspicious about Carl Meason's movements.
"But it doesn't look much like spying. He's after Jane Thrush and means matrimony—he'd have no time on his hands for that," said Sam.
Carl Meason left the Inn and walked to the keeper's cottage. He saw him leave, gun under arm, and as he wanted the coast clear it suited his purpose. Jane opened the door when he tapped—she had come to know the sound.
"Father's gone out," she said.
"I saw him. I am glad; I want a few words with you alone," he replied."I am going away for a time on business and I want you to go with me.I shall be lost without you."
"I cannot go away with you; you know that," she answered.
"Oh, yes, you can—as my wife?" he said. So he did wish to marry her.She was gratified. She had thought of late such was not his intention.
"You'll marry me?" she asked.
"That's what I've come for to-night, to ask you to be my wife."
She was silent. It was an important step to take. She liked him, but she was not sure she loved him, and she was a little afraid of him. She had caught glimpses of the brute in him once or twice; it revolted her.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"To the sea. We can spend our honeymoon there."
"Where?"
"I cannot tell you until we are on the way. I want nobody round here to know my whereabouts," he said.
"And you wish me to go with you as your wife?"
"Yes."
"When do you start?"
"In a week or so."
"Then I will give you my answer in a day or two," she said quietly.
He remained late, trying to persuade her to say she would be his wife.He had to leave without being satisfied, and he was annoyed.
"Then he's come to the scratch! I thought he would. You're a clever lass, Jane," said her father.
"Nothing clever about it. I haven't given him much encouragement," she said.
"What are you going to do?"
"That's for you to decide."
"It concerns you more than me. Do you love him?"
"I'm not sure."
"Eh! Not sure—you've had time enough."
"He's difficult to understand," said Jane.
"In what way?" asked Tom.
"I can hardly say; it's hard to explain. He seems fond of me; he might make a good husband."
"What's amiss with him?"
"Oh, nothing; but sometimes he frightens me," she said.
"Good Lord, how?" exclaimed Tom.
"He's fierce at times—he's terribly determined even when he's making love."
"That proves he's in earnest."
"Perhaps so; it shows he wants me, anyhow."
"That's in his favor. He's offered marriage, so he means right by you."
"It's his only chance," she replied.
Tom thought there was a good deal of common-sense in her; he put it down to his credit that he had brought her up well, opened her eyes.
"He must have money. Perhaps I'd better have a talk with him."
"What about?"
"He ought to settle a sum on you," said Tom cautiously.
Jane smiled as she thought: "You want money out of him, but you mean well."
"Men with cash generally give their wives a bit down," said Tom.
"If he did that, wouldn't it be rather like buying me?" she asked.
"Lord, no! Rich folk do it, the swells. Why shouldn't he?"
"He's not what I'd call a swell—real gentleman—not like Mr. Chesney," said Jane.
"That's different; there's not many men like him."
"No, that's true," said Jane with a sigh.
"I'll put a few questions to him," said Tom. "Wonder what his business is?"
"Surveyor; he says so."
"Can't make it out why he hangs about here so long without it's for your sake, lass."
"Perhaps that has something to do with it."
"Must have," said Tom.
He waited to see Carl Meason, who came the next morning, eager to have Jane's answer. He had a long talk with Tom Thrush; they went for a walk; Carl returned alone. He at once put the question to Jane, saying he had her father's consent. She made up her mind quickly. It was a chance she must not let slip—there were no eligible suitors in the neighborhood.
"I will marry you, Carl," she said. "You must be very good and kind to me."
He drew her to him, and kissed her passionately, vowing he would do everything possible to make her happy. He would have promised anything to gain his own ends.
"I want to be married in Little Trent Church," she said.
"I'll get a special license," he replied. "We've no time to wait."
"You're in a hurry to be off," said Jane.
"Business, my dear. I'd not have stayed so long at the Sherwood Inn if it hadn't been for you."
"You do love me—it's not make-believe?"
"Is that make-believe," he said, crushing her in his arms, kissing her many times. She recognized it was anything but make-believe; he wanted her badly, he must love her.
"Let me go," she said, panting.
"You believe me?"
"Yes, I believe you."
"And you love me?"
"Yes."
He crushed her again, then reluctantly let her go and stood looking at her.
"I've seen the parson," he said. "He's a queer old fellow; said he must see your father about it—and you."
"That's quite right. We sort of belong to him; he's our guide. I go to church."
"I told him he'd have no difficulty with you, or your father, that you'd both consent," he said.
"But you didn't know we would!" she remonstrated.
"I was sure of it," said Carl.
When he left, Jane wondered if he had promised or given her father any money; she half suspected there had been some bargaining and resented the thought. She knew her father loved her dearly, but he also loved money and would go far to get it.
Tom Thrush came home, putting a bold face on, but looked rather sheepish.
"It's settled; I've taken him. We're to be married in Little TrentChurch. Parson's coming to see us about it," she said.
"Drat him, what's he coming for?" said Tom irritably.
"Carl says we're to be married as soon as possible by special license.I suppose that's what he's coming about," replied Jane.
"He's in a hurry."
"We're going to the sea—for the honeymoon," said Jane, blushing prettily.
"She's a beauty," thought Tom. "I wonder if she could have done better for herself?" He was seldom satisfied with anything.
"Where to, what seaside?" he asked.
"He said he could not tell me before we left. He didn't want the people about here to know."
"That's queer. Why shouldn't he?" growled Tom.
"He's good reasons for it, no doubt," she answered. "Was anything said about money?"
Tom shuffled uneasily in his chair.
"Well, yes, we had a few words about it."
"What did you say to him?"
"Told him it was usual for a man of means to settle something on his wife."
"Well, what did he say?"
"Laughed; said he wasn't exactly a rich man but he could afford to keep a wife in comfort. Then he offered to give me a hundred pounds to put by for you in case anything happened to him. He said it would do for a bit until his affairs were settled. I said it wasn't much. We argued the thing out. He's promised two hundred; that's not so bad," said Tom in a hesitating way.
"Did he give you the money?" she asked,
"No, he's bringing it to-night."
"To hand it to me?" she asked.
"I said I'd best keep it for you until you wanted it."
Jane smiled.
"You'll be sure and take care of it, Dad?" she said.
"Upon my soul I will. You know I'm a careful man with money, Jane," he said eagerly.
"I shall want a little pocket money when I go away."
"He'll give you some. He's sure to be generous."
"I think he has been generous in giving you two hundred pounds. I shall not ask him for any. You can spare some," said Jane.
"Of course it's not mine; it's yours," protested Tom. "But where's the harm in getting a bit more? He knows we're not well off."
She shook her head.
"No," she said. "I will not ask him, and you must not."
"Very well, my lass. Suppose we say ten pounds."
"Not enough; it must be twenty at the least."
Tom gave in at once. She might refuse to let him hold the money for her; that would be a calamity. Jane regarded this transaction with Carl Meason doubtfully. It was too much like bargaining for her; but she loved her father, knew his weakness, and forgave. After all, the money was hers, and he was honest and would not touch a penny of it; he merely wanted to gloat over its possession.
Carl Meason saw Tom Thrush alone and handed over the two hundred pounds. He was generally free with his money, and well supplied.
"Jane'll have to go to Nottingham to buy a few things before she's married," said Tom, feeling his way. He had promised Jane not to make more demands on Carl, but this did not include broad hints.
"I'll take her over," said Carl.
"That's all right; I can't afford to give her much," said Tom.
Carl grinned, rather savagely, inwardly cursing Tom for a greedy, miserly man. Well, he'd have Jane—that was his reward.
"I'll see to it my wife shall have all she wants," he answered.
"You'll not find her extravagant; she's been well brought up," said Tom.
"Trust her father for that," said Carl.
Jane went to Nottingham with Carl Meason; she found him liberal. He bought her expensive dresses and wraps; she began to have a sense of importance.
Tom Thrush was surprised. Jane had never seemed quite so good-looking; he considered Carl Meason had secured a valuable prize.
"I'll not deny he's dealt liberally with you," said Tom; "but you're worth it."
Carl Meason was satisfied when he saw Jane dressed at her best. She was even prettier than he thought; her new clothes certainly brought out her good points to perfection. The scruples of the parson were overcome after he had talked freely with Tom and Jane. He had doubts about the wisdom of the match, but kept them to himself.
They were married in Little Trent Church and Eve Berkeley was present.She had been much surprised when Jane told her she was to be married toCarl Meason.
"Are you quite sure you love him, Jane?" asked Eve.
Jane was not quite sure, and said so. Eve warned her she was about to try a dangerous experiment, run considerable risk.
"I am very fond of you, Jane, and I want to see you happy," she said. "Consider it well; there is time to draw back. You do not know much about Mr. Meason—nobody does; he is rather mysterious."
After this interview with Eve Berkeley, Jane had doubts as to the wisdom of the course she was pursuing; they vanished when out of her presence.
There were several villagers in the church and Jane's appearance created a mild sensation. She seemed quite the lady, exceedingly pretty. They had hitherto considered her as one of themselves, now she looked superior.
Carl Meason was proud of his young bride, but he wanted her all to himself, and after a brief stay of a couple of hours they left the Sherwood Inn in his motor and started on their journey amidst the cheers of the villagers. Carl had taken care to leave a liberal amount of money with Abel Head for the villagers' benefit; he wished to create a good impression and succeeded—for a time.
Tom Thrush made the most of his hours at Sherwood Inn. He was a temperate man, but this was a special occasion. There was an ample supply of liquor, to which he did full justice. The thought of returning to his cottage and finding no Jane there made him feel lonely and he remained at the Inn until closing-time.
Abel Head walked some of the way with him, and as they were about to part, said:
"I hope Jane will be happy. She's a good girl, far too good for MeasonI'm thinking."
"Her'll be all right," said Tom. "The man's behaved well; he'll be proud of her, you see if he's not."
The matches were to take place at Newmarket on the first two days. They had been arranged so that Alan Chesney might be present; leave was granted for five days, and he hurried home from the front. Since the desperate cavalry fighting with the Uhlans he had been promoted to the general staff in a special capacity kept a profound secret to all except those immediately concerned, and had already done excellent service.
He arrived at Trent Park late in the evening, and at once went to The Forest where Eve Berkeley anxiously awaited him. Bernard Hallam and Ella were there but discreetly kept out of the way until they met. Alan was bronzed and looked fit; Eve was proud of him. They had much to talk over, and for an hour were left to themselves. No mention was made of their marriage; it was understood it was to take place as soon as possible.
When Bernard Hallam and Alan were alone the matches between their horses were the subject of conversation.
"You've not seen 'em," said Bernard, alluding to Rainstorm and Southerly Buster. "You'll be a bit surprised. I shall give you a good run; it will probably result in winning one each."
Alan smiled; he had frequently heard from his trainer and was confident of success.
"Skane tells me your horses are better than he expected, but he thinksI shall win," he said.
"And my man Wrench says I shall," was the reply.
"There's a lot of interest in them, and the wagering will be close," said Alan.
"The odds will probably be on your horses; that's only natural. Would you care to have a wager as well as the stake?"
"I'm agreeable if you wish," said Alan.
"Then suppose we say an even five hundred on each race?" said Hallam.
"That will suit me," was Alan's reply.
Ella greeted Alan without any embarrassment. She had at first been touched by his attention to her, but directly she was certain he and Eve were in love she relinquished any hopes she might have had. Alan did not conceal his pleasure at meeting her, and Eve felt a slight touch of jealousy which she quickly banished as a foolish fancy. They were good friends, why should she not be pleased it was so?
They went to Newmarket by motor early in the morning and drove direct to the course. Alan was anxious to see the four horses; they were in the paddock, although The Duke and Southerly Buster were only due to run the mile that day.
The Australians attracted a crowd and pleased the public; they were a good-looking pair, Rainstorm being the favorite.
Alan was much impressed. He recognized his horses would have to be at their best to beat them; this Fred Skane assured him was the case. He went to look at The Duke and Bandmaster, and his hopes of winning rose. They were in splendid trim; the trainer had taken a lot of trouble with them. Eve was naturally anxious for Alan to win. Ella was quite convinced her father's horses would put up a good race; she had a couple of small wagers on with her friends.
Mr. Hallam found no difficulty in getting odds of six to four against Southerly Buster in the ring; the bookmakers were disposed to field against the Australian representatives. The match was regarded as an important event and placed third on the card. When the horses came out there was much cheering. It was a sporting affair in every sense of the word. There were plenty of Australians in khaki, eager to show their faith in Southerly Buster. Many of them were wounded, some known to Bernard Hallam and Ella.
The course was the straight mile, and there is no better galloping ground. Southerly Buster cantered down with Bradley in the saddle; the Baron's jockey fancied his mount, he had ridden him in several gallops. Tommy Colley was, as usual, on Alan's horse. It seemed an equal match both as regards the riders and horses. Naturally there was prejudice in favor of The Duke, odds of five to four being laid on him, then six to four was freely laid.
"Going to beat you, Ben," said Tommy at the post.
"You may, but you'll not find it easy; mine's a real good horse," was the reply.
They sprang off together, at top speed in a few strides, and it was evident the mile would be covered in fast time. Southerly Buster was a clinker over the distance, holding the Australian record for a mile, a generous horse, always willing to do his best. The Duke had a temper, but Colley knew his peculiarities and humored him. The horse had a bad habit; getting off well, he generally slackened speed after going a couple of furlongs. He did so on this occasion and Southerly Buster gained a length or more, much to the consternation of backers of Alan's horse. At the end of four furlongs the Australian had increased his lead and still The Duke held back. Colley was anxious. The Duke had a tremendous turn of speed, but nearly three lengths was a lot to make up in half a mile.
The black, orange hoops and cap were conspicuous; Bernard Hallam fancied they would be as successful here as in Australia.
Jack Wrench had a habit of giving a long and prolonged whoop when hefelt sure of a horse's victory. He proclaimed his confidence inSoutherly Buster in a manner causing people near to laugh heartily.Hallam heard the well-known cry and it increased his hopes of winning.
Alan was disappointed so far at The Duke's form. He knew Colley was not quite as good as Bradley in a match, although his judgment was excellent, hardly ever at fault.
They were two furlongs from the winning-post and Tommy wondered when The Duke would put on full pressure; it was high time if he were to win. He dare not hit him, not at present; a few strides from the post it was generally effective because The Duke had no time to think things over and sulk. Just as Colley was beginning to despair and becoming desperate he felt The Duke bound under him, and in a few seconds the whole aspect of the race changed. So sudden was the move that Alan gasped. Eve clutched his arm in her excitement.
"By Jove, he's coming and no mistake!" exclaimed Alan.
"Splendid!" said Eve. "What wonderful speed—but will he catch him?"
"Whoop, whoop, whoop!" came from Jack Wrench—three sharp, piercing cries; but there seemed to be a note of alarm in the last, it died away suddenly.
The Duke was now almost at Southerly Buster's quarters, and Bradley was on the lookout for squalls; the advantage he possessed was greatly in his favor at this critical point. Colley thrilled with excitement; after the first part of the race the change was delightful. There was no doubt about The Duke's doing his best now. A tremendous cheer came from the crowd as he drew almost level with Southerly Buster.
They were not many lengths from the winning-post; it was a terrific set-to. There was nothing between the pair; they were evenly matched. The Australian was a wonderful horse. How the colonials cheered! There was nothing wrong with their lungs, whatever there might be with their limbs. It was a glorious sight to watch these two horses, representatives of all that was best in the sport on two sides of the world, struggling for supremacy. There was the blue blood of the English thoroughbred in both, although reared and trained under different conditions. Cheering and counter-cheering echoed over the heath as The Duke and Southerly Buster struggled on. Whichever won, the honors were almost equal; this is as it ought to be on a match of this kind.
The whips were out; down they came, and still the horses were locked together. The Duke tossed his head. Colley thought it was all up, that he had given in; then to his surprise the horse's resentment took another turn and he made a savage effort to get his head in front.
The din was tremendous, and the excitement great; there was not likely to be a better race than this in the four days.
Bradley rode splendidly, so did Colley, and both horses put in all they knew.
They were just at the post when The Duke made his final stride. Had he won? Nobody knew, not even the jockeys; each thought he had just got it. The judge was certain; he alone could decide, and he did not hesitate.
There was a moment of silent suspense, then the hurricane of cheers as number one, The Duke's number, went up. Alan's horse had won by half a head in the last stride and Southerly Buster was only just vanquished. "Honor's divided," was Mr. Hallam's comment when he met Alan in the paddock.
"They are," he replied; "there is nothing between them."
"Only half a head," answered Mr. Hallam, smiling, "but it makes all the difference."
"I thought I'd just done it," said Bradley.
"So did I," said Colley. "It was the last stride; they were dead level next moment."
"It was worth coming home for," said Alan enthusiastically. "There'll be some fun at the front to-night. There were several wagers on. They are all great sports."
"Will they hear the result?" asked Eve.
"Oh, yes; you've no idea how news gets round; it's remarkable where it comes from—Lord only knows," said Alan.
There was much speculation in Newmarket during the evening as to the next day's match. Southerly Buster had run such a race that it was considered Rainstorm, who was the better horse, had a splendid chance of beating Bandmaster. Many people doubted the Hunt Cup winner's capability to stay two miles. Mr. Hallam was so impressed with Southerly Buster's performance that he laid several big wagers Rainstorm would win. Alan was not oversanguine, although Fred Skane declared Bandmaster's task was easier than The Duke's.
Baron Childs invited Alan, Evelyn Berkeley, and the Hallams to stay with him for the night; he also had other friends there. During the evening there was some wagering on the next day's match and opinions were about equally divided.
The Baron was particularly attentive to Eve. Alan smiled as he said to himself:
"He does not know we are engaged. Eve is mine; there's no chance for anybody else."
Alan walked to Skane's after dinner and had a long talk with him over the running of his horses.
"Think we'd better put Robin Hood over the sticks," he said. "I've found out he's a good fencer; there'll be some meetings under National Hunt rules during the winter and next spring."
Alan was pleased at the suggestion; he loved a ride over the sticks or steeple-chase course, and Robin Hood was just the mount for him.
When Rainstorm and Bandmaster cantered down the course they were greeted with cheers; the second match was regarded with even more interest than the first.
The element of doubt about the staying powers of Bandmaster caused odds to be laid on the Australian, who had the reputation of a long distance winner. Alan was rather surprised at this, and supported his horse freely in order to make him favorite. This he did not succeed in, as the colonials laid short odds freely on Rainstorm.
Both horses were fit; they went moving past in free and easy style. Some said Bandmaster was a bit above himself; another gallop or two would have made all the difference, but the trainer said no; the horse always did better when a trifle big.
They were to run over the last two miles of the Caesarewitch course, a sure test of a horse's stamina.
They were sent on their journey at once and Rainstorm made the running. Wrench told Bradley he need not fear making as much use of him as he thought fit.
Colley was content to wait, keeping well in the track of the leader.Skane said to him before he mounted:
"Don't bustle him, let the other fellow make the pace; come as fast as you like at the end of the first mile, he'll think it's another Hunt Cup gallop. He's got the speed, we all know that, and I want to prove he's a stayer as well."
Rainstorm reveled in the going, which was fairly hard. He loved to hear his feet rattle; this was the sort of ground he was used to. Bandmaster seemed indifferent to the going, he galloped just as well when the ground was heavy; his temper was of the best, an easy horse to ride, always ready to run a genuine race.
Colley knew he was going well, and was content to wait for the end of the first mile as Skane had told him.
There was much jubilation as Rainstorm came striding along in front; this time no doubt the result would be in favor of the Australian. Mr. Hallam was satisfied; his favorite was going in his best form; the honor of Australia would be upheld, he felt certain of winning.
Fred Skane looked on with a smile of satisfaction. At the end of the first mile Bandmaster was going as strong as when he had started, and had not been at full speed. He waited for Colley to bring him along, thinking there would be a surprise for the folks who regarded the horse as a non-stayer.
Alan, despite the trainer's assurance, still had doubts about his horse. He thought Bandmaster was running unkindly, and put it down to his objections to going the distance.
Colley still waited, and Fred Skane wondered if he had mistaken the distance. The jockey had not, but it occurred to him Bandmaster's run would come better at the six furlongs than the mile. Skane gave him discretionary powers because he knew the horse and how to ride him.
"Here he comes," said Skane to himself, as he fixed his glasses on the horse.
Bandmaster responded to Colley's call; he dashed forward at a great pace and drew almost level with Rainstorm. This was a revelation to doubters, and some wagers were laid that Alan's horse would win.
Bradley, having been just beaten on Southerly Buster, was determined to turn the tables this time. Jack Wrench told him what a great horse Rainstorm was, one of the best stayers in Australia. "Nearly as good as Carbine," he said.
This, combined with his own opinion that Bandmaster was only a miler, made him sanguine, and when Rainstorm made the running without an effort he considered the race at the end of ten furlongs as good as won.
It came as a surprise when Bandmaster drew alongside, but he consideredthis effort a flash in the pan, anticipating the horse's falling back.At the end of another furlong Bandmaster still stuck to his work, andColley appeared to be taking things easily.
"He's trying to fox me," thought Bradley.
Four furlongs from home Alan's horse was still going strong, showing no signs of shirking or giving way under pressure.
Bradley began to have doubts. Bandmaster traveled like a stayer, no doubt about it; still he could not quite believe he would last it out.
Rainstorm lacked one thing, a fine turn of speed to finish up with; this was where Bandmaster came in.
Colley urged his mount forward and headed his opponent. Bandmaster showed in front, and Bradley began to niggle at Rainstorm in order to keep his place. The Hunt Cup winner was traveling almost as fast as at Ascot and so great was the pace that Rainstorm felt the pressure. There seemed every possibility of this race's being as close as the first; it was astonishing how well the horses were matched. If anybody had doubts about the merits of Australian horses they were being rapidly dispelled.
There was a bigger crowd than the previous day, for the great race between The Duke and Southerly Buster roused sporting enthusiasm to a high pitch. The best patrons of racing were present, men who thoroughly enjoyed a match of this kind and were content with a fiver on the one they fancied.
The cheering began when the pair reached the stands, and was renewed again and again.
Alan was keenly interested in the result. If Bandmaster beat Rainstorm he would be delightfully surprised. He smiled as he pictured Fred Skane crowing over the doubters and pronouncing Bandmaster the best horse in the land.
Eve was anxious. She wanted Alan to win both matches; at the same time she was glad Mr. Hallam's horses showed such good form. She was quite willing to accept his excuse that they would have done better had they been thoroughly acclimatized. There was, however, little time to think over these things; all attention was concentrated on the race, which was now at the most exciting part, and the tumult at its height. The brown jacket with the blue sleeves held the lead as they came up the rise, but the black and orange hoops were close on to them, and Rainstorm's head was at Bandmaster's girth.
It was a punishing finish, but neither horse gave way—a splendid display of dogged courage and endurance, it appealed to all that was best in thousands of people witnessing it.
Bradley roused himself for a final effort; few jockeys had his strength at the end of a severe course; he had snatched races out of the fire by sheer power of endurance.
Tommy had beaten him yesterday; he was almost savagely determined not to be placed second to-day. Every nerve was strained, all his resources, and they were many, were called upon. He rode with his head as well as his legs, and judged every little thing in favor of his mount.
If Rainstorm had a bit of brilliant dash in him all would be well, but had he? From the way the horse had traveled Ben doubted but nevertheless determined to test him to the utmost. He felt the horse roll a trifle and held him firm. What caused this? He was certain Rainstorm was not beaten.
Then Bandmaster did the same thing, but it was more of a lurch and Colley gasped in surprise. Both jockeys were straining to the utmost but had not drawn their whips. Bradley was the first to raise his arm; Colley saw it and immediately followed suit. The whips came down simultaneously, the result was equal and the horses kept their positions. Again the whips fell and this time it was Bandmaster made the better response.
It was not a cruel race; these reminders were not vicious, so sensitive were the wonderfully bred horses that they answered to the least call.
Alan's horse gained half a length and there was a terrific cheer; the brown and blue was well in front, the black and orange hoops fell back.
A look of disappointment stole over Bernard Hallam's face. Rainstorm was his favorite; he would have given much to see him win. Two miles was his best distance. What a horse Bandmaster must be to beat him! A Hunt Cup winner giving Rainstorm the go-by over two miles—it was hardly credible; but there was the hard fact.
"Ah!"
Mr. Hallam exclaimed loudly.
"Hurrah!"
He shouted at the top of his voice.
"Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!"
The cry came again in three loud, victorious cheers.
And what caused it? Why this sudden change from despondency to joyful hope of victory?
Rainstorm, after a prodigious effort on Bradley's part, drew level with Bandmaster, got his head in front, kept it there, and the judge's box was only a few yards away. A wonderful bit of riding, a great and gallant effort on the part of a good horse.
Tommy almost yelled as he drove Bandmaster along; to be defeated after all, no, he couldn't stand that. He never rode a better race and he had a good horse under him.
The last effort made by Rainstorm seemed likely to carry him first past the post, and Bernard Hallam was sure of winning. Bandmaster, however, would not be denied, the horse divined there was danger of losing; being full of courage he resented this and put forth his strength and speed to stave off defeat. How he did it Colley could not tell, but by some almost magical power he drew level with Rainstorm again and the desperate struggle continued.
The best thoroughbred never knows when he is beaten; so it was in the case of Bandmaster, who hung on to his opponent with bulldog tenacity. Bernard Hallam hardly believed it possible that Alan's horse had again got on terms with Rainstorm. The angle was deceiving and his colors still appeared to be in front; so thought hundreds of others.
For a brief moment the eyes of the jockeys met; each saw grim determination there, then they looked ahead and the judge's box loomed up clear and close.
The finish was thrilling. As they flashed past the post the question was asked, "What's won?" and nobody could tell.
"Close as The Duke's race," said one.
"Gone one better; Rainstorm won," said one of the Australians.
"Don't think so; that was a terrific run of Bandmaster's," replied another.
The numbers seemed a long time going up, then number one was slipped in; before the roar of Bandmaster's supporters died away number two appeared alongside it. The result was a dead heat—a mighty struggle—a dead heat over two miles. The owners were not likely to run it off, so which was the better horse was not settled and there would be much food for argument.
"We shall have to make another match to settle the question," said Mr.Hallam.
"I'm willing," laughed Alan, "but give me time. I must go back at once; there's some tough work to be done before long."
"When you like," replied Mr. Hallam. "I am not going back to Australia at present. I have no wish to be sent to the bottom of the sea."
Alan said good-bye to Eve at The Forest. Before leaving for London he saw Duncan Fraser. Everything was going well, no cause for anxiety, and the manager spoke hopefully of the future.
Alan was surprised when he heard of Jane Thrush's marriage and ratedTom soundly for "throwing her away" on such a fellow.
Tom remonstrated in a sullen way, saying he thought it a good match for his daughter.
"You'll find out it is not," said Alan sharply. "The man is probably in the pay of the enemy, and will be laid by the heels before long; then she will come back to you and you'll be glad to have her."
Alan suspected Tom had been bribed by Meason; he knew his fondness for money but did not question him on this subject.
Tom Thrush thought over what Alan said. It caused him some uneasiness. He had a great respect for him and his opinions and knew he would not make an assertion without good grounds for doing so.
Carl Meason and his wife arrived at a small resort on the East Coast and stayed at an hotel. She wondered why he came here; there was not much to see, it was dull. Once she had been to Scarboro' and enjoyed the brief stay, but H—— was a different place.
Meason left her alone a good deal. The excuse was he had work to do; he did not explain what it was.
After a week in Meason's company Jane already began to repent her hurried marriage. Carl was rough; some of the veneer wore off rapidly. He gave her money and told her to amuse herself, but there was little chance of that in such a place.
"Why don't you take me with you? I'd like to see the country," saidJane.
"Can't be done, my dear; not yet, at least. Wait a week or two and I may be able to do so," he replied.
"What are you so very busy about?" she asked.
He declined to gratify her curiosity and said a wife ought to trust her husband; to which she responded that he didn't seem to trust her.
"Perhaps you'd rather go back to your father?" he sneered.
"You are unkind; you know I would not, but I think you might be with me more; it's lonely here," she said with tears in her eyes.
He kissed her, talked soothingly, and she was pacified. When alone she wondered what he was about. She thought the proprietor of the hotel and others regarded him with suspicion; it made her uneasy; she began to consider what Abel Head and others had said about him at Little Trent.
Already Zeppelin raids had been made on the coast, also S.E. counties, but Jane paid little heed to them. She looked at the pictures but they gave little information.
Carl came back very late, or rather early in the morning; she had gone to bed in a depressed state. What kept him out until this hour? It was three o'clock when he came into the room. She sat up in bed, the light was burning, and looked at him half frightened.
"I thought you were never coming," she said. "Where have you been?"
He locked the door, then sank into a chair exhausted.
"I'm tired out," he said.
"Where have you been?" she asked again.
"I went to ——; the car broke down; I had to have it repaired. It's all right now; I'll take you out to-morrow, Jane," he said.
This pacified her, but as she looked at him she fancied she detected signs of fear in his face; there was a furtive, hunted look about him. There was startling news in the papers next morning. A Zeppelin raid on the Norfolk coast was reported. Several people were killed and injured.
There was much excitement in the hotel; nothing else was talked about, and Carl Meason was regarded with curiosity. It was known he had been out in his motor until the early hours of the morning—perhaps he had seen the Zeppelins.
Questions were put to him. He replied that he saw nothing of them; his car broke down and it was a long time before he got it repaired. He was miles away in a lonely part of the country when it happened; fortunately he knew all about cars and the works; it was a great advantage to put your car right when it went wrong. He spoke freely, courting questions, made comments on the raid. He had recovered his self-possession during the few hours' rest and was willing to meet all comers.
Jane was packing in her room when he went downstairs; he told her they would leave in the afternoon. After all it was a dull place for her and another part of the country would suit her best, or would she prefer to go to London for a few days?
She said she would love to see London, she had never been there; it must be a grand place.
He promised to consider it over and left her in the room.
Carl went out to examine his car; he was very particular about it.
"Nobody's been meddling," he thought; "it's just as I brought it in. It was a deuce of a run, exciting while it lasted. I don't think anybody spotted me."
When Jane reached the foot of the stairs she heard people talking in the private bar. There were three or four of them, she concluded, but the door was almost closed and she could not see inside. One voice she recognized as the landlord's.
The mention of her husband's name caused her to stand still and listen. The men were discussing the raid, from which she gathered that it was supposed the Zeppelins were guided by a motor car with a powerful light. Strong remarks were passed and hopes expressed that the scoundrel would be caught. It was surmised he was in the pay of the Huns—a spy—and he deserved shooting.
"He's a mysterious fellow," said the landlord, alluding to Carl Meason. "He was out in his motor half the night, came home between two and three. I'd like to know where he went; if I had something definite to go on I'd give warning to the police."
"You'd better do that in any case," said one of the men. "You'll be on the safe side then."
"That's all right," said the landlord, "but I might get into trouble if there's nothing wrong with him."
"Risk it, Frank; it's worth it. There's no end of these spies about, and the sooner they're stopped the better."
"I'll think it over—if he's a spy I'm sorry for his wife. She's a pretty quiet little woman, far too good for him."
Jane heard this conversation; she saw the door move and stepped into the hall. It was the landlord looked out and wished her good-day.
"I have been packing," she said, with a faint attempt at a smile.
"You are leaving?" he asked.
"I believe so. My husband talks about going this afternoon," she replied.
"He has not said anything to me at present. He's outside looking over his motor; he had a breakdown yesterday—lucky he could put it right. He was a long way from a town—Norwich would probably be the nearest," said Frank Spatts, the landlord.
Jane looked at him inquiringly. Carl told her he had the car repaired at ——. This was another tale.
"Yes, I believe he had a breakdown," she said hesitatingly.
"You've heard of the Zeppelin raid last night? Some damage was done on the Coast, a cowardly thing killing innocent people, women and children."
"Oh, I am sorry!" exclaimed Jane. "It is terrible. They must have been near here. Perhaps that is why my husband is leaving."
Spatts smiled as he said:
"It may be the reason. I'll ask him when he comes in."
Jane went out. The sea breeze blew refreshingly; she felt rather faint and it revived her. She did not go direct to the garage but walked along the front; there were few visitors about. She sat down presently. Two men occupied the other end of the seat.