Alan was recognized by scores of people, deafening cheers greeted his appearance on Bandmaster. He walked the horse past the stand and saw Eve and her friends. Stopping for a moment he waved his hand. There was a flutter of handkerchiefs in response. Eve was a proud woman. Her hero, everybody's hero, was there sitting his horse well, eager for the fray, ready to show how he could ride.
The horses were at the post as he cantered down. The starter wondered why the favorite was late. He could not let them go without him.
The riders looked at the khaki-clad horseman and some of them recognizing him cheered wildly.
"It's Captain Chesney," said Dan Rowton, rider of Handy Man.
When he came up there was a general cheer and many of them expressed pleasure that he was riding. There was no time to talk. Alan smiled his thanks and took his place in the center. In a minute or two they were off, Frosty going away with the lead.
Alan's feelings can be imagined. He was excited, small wonder at it. He thought how wonderful that he was there in Trent Park, riding in the steeplechase.
The tension of the motor ride against time strung him to the highest possible pitch and he had not quite recovered from his wounds.
How glorious it was to be on Bandmaster! How much had happened since the horse won the Hunt Cup! Many startling events had crowded one another in rapid succession.
Bandmaster moved well. Alan was already on good terms with his mount. The first fence was reached, not a formidable obstacle. All the horses got over but three or four jumped wildly. Bandmaster flew it like a bird.
There were three spills before the stand was reached. As they swept past there was much cheering. Bandmaster's rider was singled out for a tremendous reception as the horse cleared the stiff fence in grand style.
The rider in khaki looked conspicuous among the bright-colored racing jackets—hatless, his uniform well worn.
They swung round the bend, then entered some ploughed land which found out the weak spots. Two fields were crossed and the first water jump reached. There was a wide ditch in front of the high fence; the water gleamed in the bright light.
Frosty refused and whipped round, causing three more to swerve out. True Blue stopped short, then sprang into the water, where he remained, much to the annoyance of many riders, but they managed to steer clear. Alan let Bandmaster go. The horse made a grand leap, landing safely. He was delighted at the performance and his hopes of winning were high. The pace was strong, testing the power of the horses and already a dozen were hopelessly out of it.
From the stand there was a good view of the race and when Eve sawBandmaster clear the water jump in gallant style she cheered.
"Beautifully done," said the Baron. "Captain Chesney has a real good horse under him."
He noticed Eve's heightened color and how excited she was. Her eyes flashed and sparkled; there was more than ordinary interest in them. He wondered if Captain Chesney were first favorite.
"He is a splendid rider," said Eve.
"None better," said Captain Morby.
"He's handicapped heavily," said Mr. Hallam. "It will be extraordinary if he can last out such a severe race after all he has gone through."
"Wonderful pluck," said Duncan Fraser. "Always had."
"I want to hear how he arrived in time. It will be interesting. He must have had a race for it," said Ella.
"And won on the post. I hope he'll win this race," said Duncan.
The horses were almost out of sight as they passed some trees but the colors could be seen dodging between them. When they were in full view again Handy Man led, with Milkmaid, Picket, Fright, and Sparrow close behind. Bandmaster came next, alone, followed by the rest. Seven had fallen and there was a long tail.
Handy Man was a grand jumper and Dan Rowton a good rider. The pair seemed to get on well. So far the horse had not made a mistake.
The last mile and a half was a severe test, the jumps being all stiff, and the pace began to tell.
A thorn hedge faced the field at this point. Handy Man flew it safely, so did Milkmaid, Fright, and Sparrow, but Picket came down with a crash, rolled over, flung his rider out of danger, and was struggling to rise as Alan on Bandmaster came along. It was an awkward, dangerous situation; a less experienced horseman might have lost his head. Alan, however, was accustomed to act quickly in emergencies. He pulled his mount to the left and just cleared the struggling horse. Picket, however, was so near Bandmaster that he put him out of his stride; this caused loss of ground and he fell back.
Eve noticed the danger and gave a slight cry of alarm, followed by a sigh of relief as she saw Bandmaster safe.
"A narrow squeak," said Harry. "Nobody but a good rider would have escaped."
The pace was tremendous, considering a mile had to be covered, and not more than ten of the twenty-seven starters were within striking distance.
It was a formidable mile to the winning post, a stiff fence, then the water jump, bigger than the first, and two hurdles brushed in the straight, the last being close to the winning post.
Alan felt faint but kept hard at it. He was not so strong as he thought. His wounds and all he had gone through sapped his strength. He possessed indomitable courage, a stubborn will which stood him in good stead.
Bandmaster tipped the first fence but it did no harm and he raced afterHandy Man, Milkmaid, and Sparrow at his best pace.
The water jump loomed in front a formidable obstacle. Handy Man scrambled over, narrowly escaping a fall. Alan thought the Baron's horse was about done. Sparrow fell. Milkmaid cleared it well. Alan had a clear course and steadied his mount. Once over the water he had a great chance, for on the flat Bandmaster had tremendous pace. His eyes were misty, he could not see clearly, his head swam, something trickled down his leg; the wound in his thigh had opened and was bleeding. He felt Bandmaster rise under him, knew he was in the air over the water, topped the fence, and came down safely; but it was almost a miracle he did not fall off, he swayed in the saddle, it was only by a tremendous effort he retained his seat. Bandmaster was a wonder. Alan was not able to give him any assistance at the jump.
The easy going on the flat gave him a chance but his eyes were dim and his head ached. The reins were loose in his hands.
From the stand it was easy to see there was something wrong with the rider in khaki, and Eve became very anxious. Rapidly she thought of all Alan had gone through and wondered if it were telling on him. If so would he be able to ride his horse out, handle him skillfully over two rather treacherous hurdles, they were the easiest jumps in the course to look at.
Everybody was excited. Alan's condition was palpable, he seemed suddenly to have lost his strength and with it the control of his mount.
Fred Skane looked on aghast. He knew the danger better than any one. If Alan was spent, Bandmaster might blunder and there would be a nasty spill. He hoped for the best as he watched with his feelings strung to the highest pitch.
Handy Man, Milkmaid, and Bandmaster were running in the order named as the first of the two hurdles was reached. The Baron's horse was tiring fast, and Milkmaid had about enough of it. Bandmaster traveled well but did not gain much ground.
All three scrambled over, their style being slovenly, quite different from the early part of the race.
Alan swayed in the saddle, then bent forward. It seemed every minute as though he must fall off. It was a terrible strain on him after all he had gone through.
Eve was trembling with the intensity of her feelings, expecting every moment to see him collapse—what mattered losing the race if he escaped unhurt?
Backers of the favorite were anxious. They sympathized with Alan, at the same time thought it would have been better had young Kerridge been allowed to ride.
As they raced up to the last hurdle every eye was fixed on the horses. Handy Man stumbled on to his knees as he landed, but Dan Rowton cleverly kept his seat, made a fine recovery, set his mount going again, and was deservedly applauded. Milkmaid landed clumsily, staggering along for the winning post—-beaten but in front.
Bandmaster, with the reins loose in Alan's hands, pricked up his ears and took off too soon. There was a moment of intense suspense; then, as the horse crashed into it, Alan seemed to be roused to make a supreme effort. He clutched the reins, held Bandmaster together, and stopped a bad fall; the hurdle was knocked down but the horse retained his feet. All three were tired but Bandmaster had most go in him for a run on the flat. By degrees he overhauled Milkmaid, who had fallen back, and passing her went in pursuit of Handy Man.
The race became desperately exciting. Alan appeared to have had a relapse after his momentary rousing, and gave Bandmaster no help. It was painful for Eve to watch him. As she looked she saw a red splash on the khaki breeches and exclaimed:
"He's hurt! There's blood on him!" then sank backward. The Baron steadied her in time. It was hardly a faint; she felt dizzy, and quickly recovering thanked him.
Bandmaster ran his own race. He seemed to know what was required, it was exciting to watch him.
Nearer and nearer he drew to Handy Man and Rowton had to ride hard. The odds were in favor of the Baron's horse but Bandmaster, despite all disadvantages, stuck to his guns and at last reached his girth.
The cheering was loud, it gave encouragement to Alan, he sat up in the saddle and urged his mount to make a final effort.
It was just in time; another moment and Handy Man, driven hard by Dan, would have won.
Bandmaster drew level. The pair were head and head for a couple of strides. The crowd watched breathlessly, too excited to cheer for the moment.
The winning post was only a few yards ahead. Alan saw it dimly and held on to his work with grim determination.
Bandmaster's head was in front, then his neck, in another stride he was half a length to the good. As he passed the post in front of Handy Man cheering broke out wildly.
It was a sensational finish. As Alan rode in he hardly knew where he was or what had happened. He managed to get out of the saddle, unbuckle the girths and carry it into the weighing room. He sank into the scale; when "all right" was declared he staggered to his feet, outside they were waiting for him.
The crowd stood back, making way for Eve Berkeley and her friends. She went quickly to Alan, took his arm firmly, Duncan Fraser the other side helped him to limp along. The cheering was deafening, but Alan did not notice it. When Eve spoke he made no reply.
It was evident he was not in a condition to remain on the course. Eve insisted upon taking him to The Forest in her motor; she said there would be more comfort than at Trent Park because he was not expected home.
Alan was helped into the motor in a dazed condition. Eve and Duncan Fraser went with him, She had her arm in his, pressing it sympathetically, but he did not seem to be aware of it, or know where he was. Before they arrived at The Forest he was asleep, they had some difficulty in rousing him.
In the dining-room he went straight to the sofa, threw himself down heavily, and was asleep in a moment.
"He's tired out," said Eve, placing her hand on his head. "He will be better for a rest. We must take care the others do not wake him when they return."
They covered him with rugs. Duncan Fraser remained in the room while Eve went to telephone for the doctor, who on his arrival said sleep was the best possible thing for him and he must on no account be disturbed.
Alan slept until the next morning, Harry Morby remaining in the room all night. When he awoke he remained quite still for some time, wondering where he was and what had happened. Had he been ill? If so how long? No recollection of the race came to him; he fancied he was at headquarters, but the surroundings were strange—much more luxurious.
Captain Morby was asleep in the armchair; he had been awake most of the night. Alan saw him as he lay on the sofa and recognized him. What was Harry Morby doing here? He was not on the staff. Perhaps he had been promoted. Gradually his faculties became cleared. The sleep had done good, his brain worked, the dull sensation vanished. He sat up. As he did so, Harry Morby awoke.
"Better, old chap?" he asked with a smile. Then he noticed Alan looking round and went on:
"Don't know where you are, eh? I'll enlighten you. You're at The Forest, the home of that most beautiful lady, Evelyn Berkeley. You're a fortunate man to have won her sympathy so completely. By Jove, old man, you rode a great race yesterday! But you were clean done up at the finish and no wonder."
"What the deuce are you doing here?" asked Alan.
"I'm home for a few days, made up my mind to see Bandmaster win the steeplechase."
"And did he?" asked Alan.
"Did he! I should rather think so. Don't you remember?" said Harry.
"I have some recollection of a race. Did I ride him?"
"Of course you did, but it took you all your time to stick on at the finish."
"I remember," said Alan. "I was pretty right till I got to the last water jump. I don't recollect much after that."
"No, I don't suppose you do. You were certainly dazed when you dismounted."
"And he really won?"
"He did."
"Bandmaster is a great horse, a wonderful horse," said Alan enthusiastically. "I didn't help him a bit; he won the race on his own. Tell me all about it."
Captain Morby, nothing loath, gave a good description of the race. Alan listened attentively, as though it were the first he had heard of it.
"It was a race to get there in time," said Alan, and described hurriedly how he came from France and motored to the course. He stood up, looked at himself in the glass, and said:
"I'm a nice object. I want cleaning up. I'm smothered in dirt and dust. What time is it?"
"Half-past six."
"Then we'll scrub before they're up. How did I get here?"
Harry told him and added:
"Miss Berkeley left me on guard for the night. I believe she wanted to remain but thought it better not."
"Come along," said Alan. "I'm for a tub; I feel a heap better now, it's good to be home again after all I've gone through."
"You'll have to tell us about your adventures," said Harry.
"It's a long story; by Jove, old fellow, I wonder I'm alive!" said Alan.
Eve Berkeley was down in good time, anxious to learn how Alan was. She found the door open, looked in, there was nobody in the room. She rang the bell.
"Have you seen Captain Chesney?" she asked.
Johnson smiled.
"He's in the bathroom," he said.
"You have seen him?"
"I met him on the stairs."
"What did he say?"
"'How are you, Johnson? I'm going down for a tub. It will take some time to get clean, but I'll try and be down for breakfast. I'm hungry.'"
"That was all?"
"Yes."
"Did he look ill?"
"No, a bit tired. He's a wonderful man."
"He is, Johnson; you are quite right, a very wonderful man," said Eve with a bright smile.
When Alan came down he found her in the morning-room. He held out his arms.
"Come to me, Eve, come! I want you badly—I love you so. I thought once I should never see you again and it nearly killed me. I dreaded the idea of never seeing you more than the danger or the bullets."
She came; he took her to him and kissed her passionately. Johnson discreetly closed the door, he was an admirable servant. They were alone for an hour, a blessed time, more united than they had been, their hearts beating in unison; they were one.
Hurriedly he gave her a brief outline of his adventures. She listened breathlessly. He was indeed a hero, a brave man, and he was hers; her happiness was almost too much, she simply sighed and nestled to him. He punctuated his tale with kisses. He ended by saying in determined tones:
"We must be married before I return. I can't risk it again, after allI have gone through. I dare not. You will consent, Eve; you will?"
She said yes and he was soothed and satisfied.
"Perhaps it will be as well to tell them all at breakfast," she said.
"All who?"
She laughed and gave him the names of her guests.
"What an ordeal!" he said. "Who will tell them?"
"You must, Alan, and spare my blushes."
Not much surprise was manifested when Alan made the announcement. There was a chorus of congratulations; everybody thought it an excellent match. Captain Morby said to himself:
"I knew they'd do it, but they have been a long time about it."
Alan had to relate his adventures in Brussels and Bruges. He thrilled his listeners as he described his hair-breadth escapes on his return to headquarters.
He was not due back for a few weeks; during that time he and Eve were quietly married at Little Trent Church, only a few persons being present. They went for a brief honeymoon to the South and on their return to Trent Park met with a great reception.
Mr. Hallam arranged with Eve to remain at The Forest until his return to Australia. He seemed in no hurry to leave England.
It was during Alan's stay at Trent Park that Jane Meason surprised her father by returning home alone.
"I have left him," she said. "He has behaved shamefully; he is a spy.I have found him out. I will never live with him again."
"What's he done?" said Tom gloomily.
"Many things. Abel Head was quite right: he is in the pay of theGermans; I can prove it," said Jane.
She was reticent and Tom did not get much information from her. He found out, however, that Carl had threatened her if she disclosed anything about his work or what he was doing.
"What did he say?" asked Tom.
"He told me if I got him into trouble he would do for me," said Jane.
"We'll see about that," answered Tom angrily. "Threatened your life, did he? Well, he'll have me to deal with first."
Jane did not show any alarm at her husband's threats; for one thing she did not believe in them. He might risk coming to find her at Little Trent Park, at least she thought so.
Tom told Alan what his daughter said.
"I'll see her," he said, "and find out all about him. We'll put a spoke in his wheel before long; if he's caught red-handed he'll be shot and she will be well rid of him."
"The Government ought to reward her," said Tom.
Alan smiled; Tom was after the money again.
"I have no doubt she will be recompensed for what she has gone through," he said.
Eve sent for Jane to come to Trent Park and persuaded her to tell Alan what she knew. This she was willing to do; Alan was different from her father, he was a soldier and had a right to know.
Jane stated that Carl Meason had signaled to the raiders from his motor car. She had no doubt about it; he did so when they left Margate. She was sure of it now although at the time he gave a plausible explanation as to why he showed two such large bright lights. She knew the Zeppelins were guided by the signals he flashed; when she found out she was frightened but later on after a quarrel she taxed him with it. Carl was in a terrible rage, she thought he would have struck her. His threats daunted her for a time and she kept quiet, but when she read about the murderous bombs and destruction of innocent lives she determined to disclose all she knew at the proper time.
Alan and Eve listened to her story. They had no doubt as to its truth. Carl Meason must be caught. Had she any idea where he was? She had not but expected he would seek her out at the cottage. She had left him a note in which she said she was going home and would never live with him again. She handed Alan a document she had taken from his case before she left. It clearly implicated him; there was no doubt he had been in the pay of the enemy for months, that he had mapped out raids for them, organized a system of spying in England.
"This is sufficient to condemn him," said Alan. "You really think he will dare to seek you here?"
Jane said she felt sure of it.
"Then we'll watch for him. He shall not escape," said Alan, but he was doubtful if Carl Meason would run his head into a hornets' nest.
Carl Meason was angry because Jane left him, but he did not think she would betray him. He was well paid for his villainy: large remittances reached him by a round-about route. He was flush of money. He was lost without Jane. She appealed to him. He did not love her but he wanted her; she was his and he meant to get her back.
There would not be much risk in going to Trent Park, he thought. He had warned her he would be dangerous if she gave him away, that she would come to harm; she seemed frightened by his threats. It was not likely she would brave them.
He understood why she left him, or thought so; it was because she knew he undertook risks and might suffer as his accomplice if they were caught.
"She'll have to come away with me," he said. "I'll square her father; it's only a matter of cash."
It was some time after she left him he decided to take her away. He wrote; she had not answered his letters. He cursed her for an obstinate jade, vowing he would pay her out.
Jane showed her father his letters and he duly reported to Alan, who ordered a watch to be kept round the Park and near the cottage. Abel Head, Tom Thrush and several of the men at Trent Park were special constables. They thought it would be a feather in their cap if they caught a spy.
Carl Meason was cunning. He wished to find out how the land lay before venturing there. He sent one of his confidential agents to make inquiries. He returned in a couple of days, saying there were men about, watching the place, evidently on the lookout for somebody.
From this Carl gathered Jane had given information against him and flew into a terrible rage. Come of it what might he decided to punish her even if he ran risks.
He made elaborate preparations for his journey, hired a small but powerful car, disguised himself thoroughly. He was an adept at making up. In New York he had more than once saved his life owing to his skill. He knew the country well. He journeyed down in the daytime, passing through Little Trent slowly, saw Abel Head at the door of the Sherwood Inn, smiled as he noticed he was unrecognized. He went at the same pace along the road leading past the wall where the door opened near Tom Thrush's cottage.
Jane heard the motor, opened the door, and looked out. So well was he disguised that she failed to recognize him or the car.
Motorists often went through the road in Trent Park and no notice was taken of Meason and his car.
It so happened that Alan and his wife were in London and as there had been no signs of Meason the watchers relaxed their vigilance. Tom Thrush was of opinion Meason had cleared out because he was in danger of being discovered; and Abel Head was of the same mind.
Jane felt safer. Perhaps he divined she had told of his doings and in consequence he thought it safer to hide for a time. She was, however, careful not to go far away from home, nor did she walk outside the Park. There was no telling what a desperate man would do.
Fortune favored Carl Meason. The night was dark, misty; a dense white stream covered the park, strangely thick and wetting. Leaving his motor under the wall some distance from the door where it was hidden by creepers overhanging, he concealed himself in one of the thick embrasures and watched. He was well protected by his motor coat, light but warm and water-proof.
He looked at his wrist watch. The illuminated figures showed it was eight o'clock. He wondered at the pitchy blackness of the night, unusual for the time of the year.
Listening intently he heard the door latch click; then it swung back with a bang. It was opened again and Jane called out:
"Don't be late, Father. It's a bad night. I don't care to be left alone."
"I'll be back in an hour, my lass, and bring Abel Head along with me.He's plenty of time on his hands with these new restrictions in force."It was Tom Thrush's voice; he was going to the Sherwood Inn. What astroke of luck! Such a chance would not occur again.
Carl Meason chuckled savagely as he heard Tom's footsteps die away in the distance. Creeping out he felt his way back to the motor along the wall, made sure all was right; the lights were low and covered by a dark protection which entirely obliterated them. He had taken every precaution and knew the way in the dark; he had only to keep to the road and get clear away with Jane. Nobody was likely to be motoring on such a night. He was still disguised. He wondered if she would recognize his voice, he could alter it cleverly.
He banged at the door as though he had stumbled against it in the dark. Jane was nervous, more so than she had been since her return. The noise startled her; it could not be her father returning, still there was a chance.
She listened. The knock came again, louder. She opened the cottage door; the light from the lamp shone on the outer door leading to the road.
"Who's there?" she asked, bravely, although her heart quaked.
"I've lost my way. I want to get to Little Trent," said Carl, in a muffled voice.
"Go straight on," she said; "it's not far."
"Who lives here?"
"Thomas Thrush, Captain Chesney's gamekeeper."
"That's lucky; I know him. May I come in for a few minutes? I'm tired."
She hardly knew what to say. If she refused he could force his way in; whoever he was, she thought it better to grant his request; it was a bad night to be out.
She opened the door and Carl stepped through. He walked into the cottage.
"Thanks," he said; "is Mr. Thrush in?"
Jane hesitated a moment; then said:
"He's gone out; he will not be long. You know my father?"
"Quite well."
Something in his appearance was familiar; she looked at him curiously. His eyes fascinated her; they were like a snake's, the eyes of Carl Meason, her husband, as she remembered them to have looked several times. It suddenly occurred to her that he might be her husband disguised; she was almost certain it was. What must she do?
Carl watched her. He caught signs that she recognized him, he had not much time to lose, he must make good use of it and act at once.
"It's me, my lady; I see you know me. Why did you run away from me?" he said.
"What have you come here for in this disguise?" she said.
"To take you away. I am running great risks, but I want you, Jane, andI think you're worth it. You ought to be flattered."
She must parley with him until her father and Abel were at hand.
"I shall not go with you," she said firmly.
"Oh, yes, you will; I think I can persuade you," he said, looking threateningly at her. "You have given me away; that was not proper for a wife."
She said nothing. If only she could detain him.
"Come, hurry up. Your father will not be back yet; he's gone to LittleTrent, I heard him say so," he said.
"I will not go," said Jane.
"You will, and now. There's your hat and coat. Put them on."
"No!"
He came toward her, looking terrible in his disguise.
"You see this," he said, taking a large knife from his pocket, unsheathing it. "If you do not come at once I will kill you."
She shuddered. She knew he would do it; this was no empty threat.Mechanically she took her hat and cloak and put them on.
"If you cry out I will use it," he said, holding up the knife. She did not speak. He took her by the wrist and led her out; she was not so afraid now, probably it was the safest plan to go with him—she could escape again.
He pulled her rapidly along by the wall until he reached the motor.
"Get in," he said, turning on the small inside lamps.
Jane entered; she heard him fixing the starter; he got in and in a few minutes the car moved.
"It all depends on yourself whether you come out of this alive," he said savagely.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"Anywhere on to the main road; you can say good-bye to Trent Park, you'll never see it again," he said.
He intended to kill her when it was safe; she felt sure such was his intention. Her faculties were alert. Was there a way out?
Her heart gave a throb, her hopes rose; if she could make him steer a wrong course.
"You are not making for the main road," she said.
"Oh, yes, I am."
"You are not. If you upset the car you may be killed too," said Jane.
He hesitated; she might be right, there were several roads in the Park. He wanted to get away as quickly as possible. He had no head lights; it was safer.
"Which way ought I to go?" he asked.
"More to the left."
Jane knew the ground well; she could find her way in the dark almost as certainly as her father. The car was nearing the road leading past the moat and tower; it was not often used, but he would not be aware of this in the dark.
"To the left?" he said. "There's no road there."
"Yes; a little farther on."
"You can see?" he said in surprise.
"I know the park as well in the dark as in the daytime," she answered.
He thought this not improbable; her father had taught her woodcraft, the ways of the forest and the park.
"If you put me wrong you're done for," he said. "You'd better not play tricks with me."
"Why should I when you threaten my life?" she replied quietly.
Her feelings were strung to the highest pitch; she was playing a desperate game. She might lose her life, it was worth the risk. He intended to kill her anyhow because she had given him away.
He thought her thoroughly frightened; she would hardly play him tricks, she dare not. He underestimated her courage.
Jane peered into the blackness; she saw a faint line ahead and knew it was the water in the moat. Her father had taught her to see water in the dark—it comes easy when familiar with nature. Every sense was alert; if she made a mistake he would not hesitate to kill her, for he would know what she had tried to do.
The car jolted. Carl said angrily:
"We're off the road; what's your game? Take care."
"It's all right—a short cut to the main road. That's where you want to go?" she said.
"The main road, yes."
"I'll tell you in a moment; turn sharp to the right then," said Jane.
The car went on. Jane's heart beat fast, her pulses throbbed painfully. Would he do it, would he find out? It was an awful risk to run.
"Now," she said as calmly and steadily as possible, "to the right."
Carl turned the steering wheel; the car swerved, bumped on the rough grass; for a moment he seemed to lose control of it. He heard Jane leap out; he could not see her.
She had played him a trick; where was he? His brain was on fire. He acted like a madman, wild with rage; he tried to stop the car. In his fumbling haste he failed.
There was a plunge, a great splash.
Jane, bruised and shaken on the ground where she had fallen, listened.
When Tom Thrush returned home alone—Abel declined to accompany him—he found the doors open, the cottage in darkness, the lamp having been blown out, and Jane gone. He called her, searched the cottage, took his lantern and examined the garden. Somebody, a man, had been there. He went out on to the road, traced footsteps along the wall until he came to where the car had stood, then he knew it was Carl Meason who had carried her off and given them the slip.
Lantern in hand he followed the tracks easily seen in the damp dust covering the road. He walked rapidly. When he came to the turning leading to the moat he stopped and wondered what had taken him this way. A feeling of horror swept over him as he thought Meason might have had an object in taking her to the moat. This vanished when he considered he would not know the way in the dark, but how to account for the tire imprints? He followed them; as he neared the moat he listened. Footsteps drawing near, light treading; not a man, perhaps Jane; if so, what had become of Meason?
It was Jane, moving slowly and painfully. He held up the light.
"What are you doing here, lass? Where is he?" asked Tom.
She stumbled upon him, knocking the lantern from his hand. She had fainted. He laid her gently down and picked up the light, holding it to her face. There was a cut on her forehead; he wiped the blood away, saw it was not serious. She came round quickly. He helped her to her feet.
"How came you here?" he asked.
"Carl came to the cottage. He forced me to go with him. He had a car—he meant to kill me—it was his life or mine," she said, shivering.
"Where is he?" asked Tom.
"In the moat."
He was bewildered, did not understand. Jane could not have pushed him into the water.
She explained hurriedly; he listened wonderingly. She was plucky, had run a great risk. He gave no thought to the man.
"I jumped out and fell on the grass. He seemed to lose his head; the car rushed on—I heard nothing more," she said.
"Then he's in the water and the car too?"
"Must be."
"Come home. I'll have a look round in the morning. If he's drowned it's too good for him; he ought to have been hanged. Drowning they say is an easy death."
Jane went to bed and slept the sleep of exhaustion and excitement. She was only a girl and had already gone through startling experiences. Tom, leaving her, went to the moat early. He saw where the car had fallen in; it must have turned upside down and probably Carl was pinned underneath. He felt no compunction; he thought Jane acted rightly. The man was a spy and a villain; she and the country were well rid of him.
When Alan returned he told him what had happened. The matter was reported to the police and to the proper authorities. The moat was searched; it was difficult to drag the car out but it was soon done. Carl Meason's body was found pinned beneath, as Tom anticipated.
The usual inquest was held and strange facts were brought to light. On Meason's body were documents proving he was in the pay of the Germans, and had given much valuable information which was used for raiding purposes.
Jane's conduct was extolled. She would undoubtedly have paid the penalty of betraying his secrets with her life; there was no pity for Carl Meason. He met his death as a traitor; had he been caught he would have undoubtedly been shot.
Jane was searched out and interviewed; Tom made a handsome bargain with the representatives of a Sunday weekly; when she read the account of her life with Carl Meason she was amazed. Had all these things really happened? Was it possible? She pointed out certain extraordinary statements to Tom, saying she did not recollect such things and was quite sure she had told the newspaper man nothing of the sort because they had never happened.
Tom smiled.
"He said he'd write it up, and he has. He's made a good job of it and we've been well paid for it. I think he was entitled to lay it on thick, considering the price paid," he said.
"Did this all really happen to you, Jane?" asked Eve.
"Some of it," replied Jane, smiling.
"And the rest?"
"It is a bit far-fetched; he must have a vivid imagination," said Jane.
Eve laughed.
"You have caused quite a sensation," she said.
Alan went back to general headquarters in France. Eve was as happy as she knew how to be without him, but there was the constant anxiety of what might happen to him.
Alan was not a good correspondent, and he had not much time for writing. Eve knew this and was always glad of a few lines. He came home at intervals for a few days at a time.
Eve loved him and he adored her. Since their marriage he discovered new and surprising traits in her and wondered how he had been so blind as to risk losing her by his delay in asking her to be his wife.
Bernard Hallam and Ella were still at The Forest.
"When am I going back to Australia?" said Mr. Hallam in answer to Alan's question. "I cannot tell you, for I don't know. It's not safe. I have no desire to see how a torpedo works at near quarters. I am much safer here, and The Forest is a delightful place. There's another thing, I want my revenge."
Alan laughed as he said:
"Another couple of races with Rainstorm and Southerly Buster?"
"That's it. They were on a level last time; you only just got home with your pair."
"Bandmaster has probably lost some of his paces," said Alan.
"Didn't look like it when you won the Steeplechase on him," answeredMr. Hallam.
"By Jove, that must have been a race!" exclaimed Alan.
"It was. Don't you recollect much about it?"
"Can't say I do," replied Alan, with a puzzled expression.
"It's funny; you must have been in a queer state."
"I was. I say, Hallam, I believe I went off my head for a bit," saidAlan.
"I won't contradict you, but the head's all right now," said Mr. Hallam.
Fred Skane was consulted. He thought Bandmaster quite equal to tackling Rainstorm again, and The Duke doing the same by Southerly Buster. Both would be ready for the next Newmarket meeting if the matches could be included in the program.
Alan communicated with the Jockey Club officials and there was no difficulty about it; the former matches proved such an attraction they were sure to be an addition to the card.
In due course the matches came off and on this occasion honors were divided, for Bandmaster beat Rainstorm, and Southerly Buster beat The Duke. Mr. Hallam would have been more pleased had Rainstorm won, for he was his favorite, but Alan was delighted at Bandmaster's success.
Duncan Fraser was a frequent visitor at Trent Park and always went across to The Forest during his stay.
Eve said she was "watching developments," but Alan laughingly answered that, "Fraser is not a marrying man; he's in love with the brewery, which is much more prosaic."
"We shall see," said Eve; "I'm open to support Ella against business."
Captain Newport, invalided home an exchanged prisoner, came to Trent Park for rest and change. He sorely needed it and Eve looked after him well, also Captain Morby, severely wounded, and several more officers. In fact, Trent Park was turned into a convalescent home, with Eve in command. Ella and some friends were willing helpers, and Jane came every day to do what she could for Mrs. Chesney, to whom she was much attached.
Captain Morby said the man who could not make a recovery at Trent Park was very far gone indeed.
"I say, Newport, I owe you a uniform," said Alan, laughing, and told him how he took his in the house of Jean Baptistine.
"A fine old chap," said Vincent. "He did what he could for me; had I been fit he'd have got me away safely."
"I hear the old fellow's had his place blown about his ears but he's still there. I am trying to smuggle him over here. I'll fix up a small farm for him where he can settle down and try and be contented; I think I can manage it."
"That's good of you," said Vincent.
"Not at all; he deserves it, he risked much to try and save me, he did his best," said Alan.
During Alan's absence in France, Eve had plenty to do at home. The wounded officers took up much of her time. When not attending to them, or delegating the duty to others, she went about the home farm, the stables and the gardens, often visiting Sam Kerridge at the Stud, where Alfonso was doing well and most of the mares were still in possession. Alan's racing establishment had been cut down, but this was not to be wondered at, and Fred Skane had an easier time than usual. Many of the lads had joined up, and more were waiting for the call. Alan generously granted them a portion of their salaries during the time they served.
Eve looked longingly forward to the time when Alan would be free again and live always at Trent Park and where children to be born would increase their happiness tenfold. She wrote him long letters, giving all the news and local gossip, also everything concerning their home. Her latest letter roused Alan's interest more than usual.
"You see, I was right," she wrote; "Duncan Fraser asked Ella Hallam to be his wife and she consented. I am sure it is a good match, so is Mr. Hallam, and Ella will be happy. Once upon a time I fancied you admired her, I mean were half in love with her, and I am not quite certain yet that she has forgiven me for snatching you away. We were always meant for each other, Alan; it was our destiny, and in this case it has proved very kind.
"And what do you think? Mr. Hallam wants me to sell The Forest to him in order to give it to Ella as a wedding present. Shall I? Tell me. There are many pleasant associations connected with it—the best, that you asked me to be your wife there."
Then followed news which caused Alan to exclaim:
"By Jove, I am glad! I hope it's a boy."
Eve continued:
"And there's something else, another match. Will Kerridge has asked Jane to be his wife; her second matrimonial venture will not be as stormy as her first.
"We are all well here, and my wounded soldiers simply love the place" ("and their nurses," commented Alan, "lucky beggars!").
"I never pass the steeplechase course but it recalls vividly to mind that never-to-be-forgotten day when you won on Bandmaster—the Rider in Khaki."