L I E> RAHY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 825 
 
 Z j 
 
 V-

 
 JACK WAELEIGH 
 
 A TALE OF THE TURF AND THE LA IV 
 
 BY 
 
 DALRYMPLE J. BELGRAVE 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LOXDOX -CHAPMAN and HALL 
 
 LIMITED 
 1891 
 
 [All rights reserved]
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED BY GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, LIMITED, 
 ST. JOHN'S HOUSE, CLERKEN WELL ROAD.
 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 -An old Grammar School .... 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Nelly Paradine . . . . . .13 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 A Morning's Reflections . . .24 
 
 CHAPTER IY. 
 
 -A SYMPATHETIC COLLEGE TUTOR . . 38 
 
 on 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Cecil Warleigh behaves nicely . 51 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A. Night and a Morning . . 55 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Jack Warleigh begins to live . . 67 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 Mr. Paradine drops his Cane . . .73 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The Fetchester Hunt Steeple-chases . . 85 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 -The Fetchester Hunt Cup . .98 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 j An after-dinner Nap . . . .112 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Colonel Beamish wide awake . .129
 
 IV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 Windmill Lodge ...... 140 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A VICKY PRACTICAL J OKE ..... 153 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 In which two People come to an UNDER- 
 STANDING . . . . • • .165 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Downhill . . . . . . .176 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 On the Hampshire Downs . . . .191 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Grub Street . 206 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 Digging in the Record Office . . .217 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 Sam strikes a Reef 22(5 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Dismal Jimmy lays against "The Crier" . 234 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 The Grand Military ..... 245 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Sam Paradine dines ..... 256 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 At Liverpool . . . . . . .271 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 The Race for the Grand National . . 282
 
 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 AN OLD GEAMMAE SCHOOL. 
 
 Saint Paul's Squaee, Fetchester, is full 
 of easy-going prosperity : not of the 
 bustling, restless kind one finds in a 
 manufacturing town, but something that 
 seems more solid, and suggests the three 
 per cents : small profits and good security. 
 There is a sense of rest about the place, 
 and in the summer time, plenty of grate- 
 ful shade. On one side of the Square is 
 St. Paul's church, with its church-yard, 
 where the past generations of Fetchester 
 folk peacefully sleep, under the deep 
 shadows cast by elm trees. The inscrip- 
 tions on the grave stones show the same 
 names, with the same callings, occurring 
 again and again. Sons have followed 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 fathers as parsons, doctors, lawyers, 
 butchers, mercers and so on : and cen- 
 turies seem to have left but few scars on 
 that quiet little midland town. Every 
 three hours the bells in St. Paul's steeple 
 chime out a plaintive old hymn tune, and 
 listening to their cadence, one notes a 
 rare harmony of scene and sound. Across 
 the far end of the Square, runs the trim 
 little High Street, and facing the church, 
 there is a row of substantial red-brick 
 houses, that have an air of home and easy 
 quiet lives about them. The other side 
 of the Square is formed by the buildings 
 of the old Grammar School. There is 
 little or no architectural beauty in the 
 block, but its age lends a soothing sense 
 of rest, and adds a charm to the surround- 
 ings. In front of the school stands a 
 statue, " In ever grateful memory " of 
 Sir William Wardour, its pious founder. 
 The Grammar School boys were perhaps 
 not " ever " duly grateful ; sometimes 
 when smarting from the effects of going up 
 to the Reverend Arthur Paradine, with 
 Arnold's Prose Exercises, they gazed 
 at the pious Knight's presentment and 
 wished that he had never lived, or at 
 least found something better to do with 
 his money. 
 
 On quiet summer days when the school
 
 AN OLD GRAMMAE SCHOOL. 6 
 
 windows were open, a visitor standing 
 in the Square might often have heard 
 Mr. Paradine storming at his class. 
 "Ha! Simpkins junior, so you don't 
 know what the nominative is to the verb. 
 In another fortnight, a young gentleman 
 from Oxford will come down to examine 
 you, and you won't be able to answer his 
 questions, and he will say to me ' Mr. 
 Paradine, I think it would be better to 
 be more careful about the parsing, about 
 the parsing?" and the voice would repeat 
 the words, again and again, as though it 
 were some savage war-cry. Then would 
 arise the sound of wailing and the cane. 
 
 A lady dressed in black would some- 
 times stand in the Square, within the 
 shadow cast by the church, and nervously 
 listen for that rich voice. She knew 
 that Mr. Paradine was, in the main, a 
 kindly gentleman, and that the boys, — with 
 honest instinct, which makes them bear 
 so little resentment for corporal punish- 
 ment — liked him better than the other 
 milder masters. For all that, her face 
 would flush with anger, and she would 
 long to make her way into the school, 
 and give that ripe old scholar a bit of her 
 mind. And she would have done so, too, 
 only she dreaded the indignation which 
 such a breach of school etiquette, on her 
 b 2
 
 4 • JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 part, would have been received by her 
 boy. 
 
 Sometimes another figure, then very 
 familiar in the Fetchester Street, would 
 cross the Square with an accustomed half 
 swagger, half limp. It was the figure of 
 an elderly man, with a large curled and 
 dyed moustache, a white hat worn 
 jauntily on one side, who leaned somewhat 
 heavily on his stick, and he would smile 
 when he heard the sound, which held the 
 widow spell-bound : and as he put out a 
 gouty old hand, he would ask her if she 
 were not trembling lest her boy were 
 catching it from old Paradine. " Well, 
 if he is his father's son, he will know 
 how to take his punishment, Jack could," 
 he would say, and then he would have 
 much to tell her of his old comrade Jack 
 Warleigh. 
 
 She never cared for these reminiscences 
 of her dead husband. It was pleasant 
 enough to her to hear him praised, and 
 old Major Chaffinch evidently thought 
 that his stories of wild nights at mess, 
 and of losses at play, and on the race- 
 course redounded much to his credit. 
 But the Jack Warleigh whose memory 
 the widow worshipped, and whom she 
 had only known a few months before 
 they were married, and then for a few
 
 AX OLD GRAMMAR SCHOOL. 5 
 
 weeks after lie was ordered off to the 
 Crimea, to have his brave life squandered 
 away at Balaklava, was a very different 
 man from old Chaffinch's hero. 
 
 When the "Major had finished his 
 stories of the old days, he would usually 
 ask after his friend Sir George Warleigh. 
 
 " A fine type of the good old school 
 that, as hard as iron, by gad ! " the Major 
 would say. 
 
 Mrs Warleigh used not to find her 
 father-in-law a pleasant subject of con- 
 versation. Before they were married, 
 old Sir George had quarrelled bitterly 
 with her husband, and he had made that 
 quarrel an excuse for doing very little for 
 her or her boy, when they were left 
 rather badly off, after her husband's 
 death. 
 
 She was the daughter of a Fetchester 
 clergyman ; she had gone back to live at 
 her native town, and in due time had sent 
 her boy Jack to be educated at the 
 Grammar School. 
 
 Old Major Chaffinch would wind up his 
 conversation by growling out a hope that 
 his boys were getting their fair share of 
 Mr. Paradine's attention — after which 
 paternal wish, he would hobble off to the 
 billiard-room at the <; Swan," where he 
 would sit and watch the game and give
 
 O JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 the youth of Fetchester the benefit of his 
 matured views of men and women. 
 
 Behind the Grammar School there was 
 a red-brick house, with a pleasant shaded 
 garden, that reached down to the river, 
 which flows sluggishly through the old 
 town. Sometimes there would cross the 
 Square, to that house, on her way home 
 from school, a girl of sixteen, a little girl, 
 with features rather long for her face, a 
 mass of golden brown hair hanging over 
 her shoulders, and a pair of big eyes. A 
 girl of whom one might foretell that she 
 would % grow into a very beautiful woman. 
 She was Nelly Paradine, the daughter 
 of the grim old second master at the 
 Grammar School. 
 
 Perhaps, next to her boy, there was no 
 one whom the widow loved more, and her 
 soft face would light up as she talked 
 with Nelly Paradine about her school and 
 home life. Then they would hear a noise 
 in the school buildings, of many boys 
 rushing downstairs, and soon a jostling 
 crowd of eager lads would surge out 
 through the iron gates up the play-ground 
 into the Square, and Jack Warleigh would 
 run up to them, and half blushing, would 
 shake hands with Nelly Paradine, and 
 walk home with his mother, talking to 
 her about his school.
 
 AN OLD GRAMMAR SCHOOL. 7 
 
 As a rule, boys are somewhat shame- 
 faced about being seen with their mothers 
 and sisters in the streets, but no one 
 thought of laughing at Jack Warleigh. 
 He was the most popular boy in the school, 
 though he was not by any means the most 
 brilliant. At games he did fairly well. 
 At his lessons he showed some talent, 
 though not much application, but he took 
 such punishment as came in his way, with 
 a philosophic calm which in a way gained 
 him the respect of the boys, and perhaps 
 — of the master. 
 
 On Sunday afternoons there used to be 
 a school service in the chancel at St. 
 Paul's, which in those days was shut off 
 from the rest of the church, in a manner 
 which must have given rise to great 
 scandal to such of the parishioners as 
 were abreast of the age in questions of 
 church restoration and ritual. There was 
 a pew reserved for masters' families, and 
 Nelly used to sit in this pew. Jack 
 Warleigh, looking back to those days has 
 a distinct memory of Nelly's face, as she 
 sat there, under a painted glass window. 
 He can hardly remember when it was 
 that he first thought himself in love with 
 her. Mrs. Warleigh used to watch the 
 two together, when Nelly came to her 
 house, as she often did, and, mother-like,
 
 O JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 she would indulge in a dream of the 
 future. 
 
 Jack's life, unlike his father's, was to be 
 a peaceful one. Old Sir George, on one of 
 the few occasions on which he had shown 
 any interest in his grandson, had promised 
 to give him a family living. There was 
 no one else in the family to take it, for 
 his eldest son had died, leaving only one 
 boy, George, while his youngest son, Cecil 
 — the baronet had married a second time, 
 late in life — who was his favourite, was 
 not to be made a parson. Jack was too 
 easy-going to trouble himself about the 
 future. He certainly had no particular 
 wish to be a clergyman, but he looked 
 forward to Cambridge, as most schoolboys 
 would, and the time that was to follow 
 the delightful years to be spent at college 
 seemed so far off that it was of no use 
 troubling himself about it. Then he 
 would be a different being altogether, so 
 he thought. 
 
 Looked backed to, those days at 
 Fetchester seemed to be altogether happy. 
 Probably at the time, he had troubles 
 enough as boys will: but from a distance he 
 remembers best the easy flowing river, 
 and the long half-holidays spent upon 
 it, the boy companions who had not yet 
 learnt the bad lessons the world teaches,
 
 AN OLD GRAMMAR SCHOOL. 9 
 
 and Nelly Paradine's honest brown eyes 
 and golden hair, lit up by the sunlight 
 that streamed through the painted glass 
 window of St. Paul's church. Unlike 
 boys who have gone away from home to 
 school, there was no break in his early 
 life. It was all Fetchester, and the story 
 of his life meanders back until it is 
 drowned in the sweet chimes from the 
 old church tower. The quiet of St. 
 Paul's Square was seldom broken. 
 
 Twice a year there were Assizes in the 
 old Court House. They seldom lasted 
 more than a day or two, and there 
 seemed to be very little excuse for all the 
 pomp and paraphernalia of judges, sheriff 
 and javelin men ; while the gentlemen 
 of the bar grumbled bitterly at the 
 pitiful lack of enterprise which could 
 only produce a few wretched prisoners, 
 most of whom artlessly pleaded guilty, 
 and perhaps some one poor civil action. 
 Once the place was startled by a cavalry 
 regiment, on the line of march, coming 
 into the town and taking up its quarters 
 there for the night. Such an event bad 
 never happened — so it was said — since 
 Prince Rupert's troopers filled the place, 
 on the eve of a disastrous fight during the 
 Great Rebellion. 
 
 That was a day which Jack Warleigh
 
 10 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 will always remember, for after the 
 parade had been dismissed, and the men 
 had gone to their different billets, a 
 young officer with a pleasant handsome 
 face, and singularly winning manner, 
 came up to a group of school-boys, 
 of which he was one, and asked them if 
 they belonged to the school, and if a boy 
 of the name of Warleigh was there. 
 
 " How are you, young man ? " he said, 
 when Jack came forward. 
 
 " I am your uncle, your half uncle — 
 Cecil Warleigh, I remembered you were 
 here, and thought I would give you a 
 look up. I remember the governor talk- 
 ing about you, saying they were going 
 to make a parson of you ; and you 
 were to have Warleigh Rectory some day. 
 I thought I'd take you to the pastry- 
 cook — that was the. sort of thing I used 
 to like, when I was in the lower school at 
 Eton, but you're past that." Jack Warleigh 
 was seventeen, and stood over six feet high. 
 
 " Tell you what, you had better dine 
 with us at mess, at the Swan. It will be 
 a scratch affair I daresay, but we'll do 
 what we can for you." Jack looked 
 delighted at the notion of dining with 
 the gallant Loyal Lancers, and was also 
 very much taken with his kinsman. 
 
 " Shall I go and see the head-master
 
 AN OLD GBAMMAE SCHOOL. 11 
 
 and ask leave for you ? Ah ! I forgot, 
 yon are a day-boy and live here with 
 your mother. \Vell, you must tell her you 
 are going to dine with me." 
 
 Jack pointed to a group of ladies, who 
 were walking from the Square, and said 
 his mother was there. She had come to 
 see the Lancers. 
 
 " Ah, to be sure — why of course she 
 would come to see us, your father was in 
 the regiment — killed at Balaclava. I've 
 often heard the Colonel talk of him," said 
 Cecil. " I must go and speak with her." 
 
 The young officer made a good impres- 
 sion on Mrs. "Warleigh, who felt the charm 
 of his pleasant and good-natured manner. 
 It had been rather a trying" morning for 
 her. The scene she had witnessed could 
 not but remind her of the morning she 
 had last seen the regiment, and taken her 
 farewell of her husband ere he embarked 
 for the Crimea. 
 
 " The Colonel and several of the older 
 men in the regiment, will like to meet 
 him," Cecil said, as he talked of Jack's 
 dining with them : and the widow felt 
 that it was right her son should go, though 
 she was conscious of something like dread, 
 at the thought of Jack having almost 
 grown up and having so soon to face the 
 temptations and dangers of manhood.
 
 12 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 Jack never forgot that evening. He 
 had never met any society so brilliant. 
 The stories, the military chaff, the sparkle 
 and dash of the whole thing, made a last- 
 ing impression upon him. There seemed 
 to be no one at the mess who was so 
 bright and popular as Cecil Warleigh. 
 
 After that dinner, Jack for some time 
 thought of following in his father's foot- 
 steps, by becoming a soldier. But the 
 thought of Cambridge, and a wish to please 
 his mother, reconciled him to the notion 
 of the Church. Nelly's influence also 
 came in. When he was only nineteen 
 there was a boy and girl engagement 
 between them, and when he thought of 
 his future life as a clergyman it always 
 seemed that it would be shared with her. 
 
 For years Jack saw little of the rela- 
 tions whose name he bore. His grand- 
 father had died, and his cousin, Sir 
 George, who succeeded, had married soon 
 after he left Cambridge, and had settled at 
 Warleigh, and seemed to have forgotten 
 his very existence.
 
 13 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 NELLY PAEADINE. 
 
 When Jack went up to Cambridge, 
 though he did not show any very great 
 devotion to his studies he became rather 
 a distinguished undergraduate. He 
 rowed stroke of his college boat, and 
 would — so it was said — get into the 
 University eight, if he only stuck to it 
 and was not drawn away by other dis- 
 tractions. Besides rowing, he played 
 cricket, occasionally rode, usually found 
 his way to Newmarket when there was 
 any racing on. He became very popular 
 with almost every set in college, except 
 the reading set. When he went back to 
 Fetchester in the vacation, the boys at 
 the school regarded him with awe and 
 admiration, though some people shook 
 their heads at sundry stories of wild 
 supper parties and rowdy escapades 
 which he was said to have taken part in. 
 Among those who were not altogether 
 pleased with what they heard was Nelly
 
 14 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 Paradine. Joe Paradine, lier younger 
 brother, was a fellow of a small college 
 at Cambridge, and he brought home with 
 him a plentiful supply of stories which 
 were not to Jack Warleigh's credit. 
 " He never read, he lived in the fastest 
 set in the college, he was up to his eyes 
 in debt, and was certain to ruin his 
 mother and go to the dogs. If he ever 
 took his degree and went into the Church 
 it would be a scandal and a disgrace to 
 the Establishment." It was surprising 
 that the fellow of " Cats," should have 
 known so much about the doings of the 
 undergraduates of St. George. But Joe 
 Paradine the plodder had always cherished 
 a grudge against Jack Warleigh, for years 
 before when he was a big boy at the 
 school, and Jack but a little chap, Jack 
 had kicked Joe's shins and set his 
 authority at defiance. Joe had very 
 little of interest to relate to any one. A 
 strict devotion to mathematics, which 
 had helped him to gain his college 
 successes, does not as a rule, make a 
 man shine in society. So he found Jack's 
 misdoings a serviceable topic of conver- 
 sation. 
 
 " The youngster is quite right to have 
 his fling before they make a parson of 
 him. He is a chip of the old block, there
 
 NELLY PARADING. 15 
 
 is plenty of the wild Warleigh blood in 
 him, by George ! " old Chaffinch would 
 often declare with glee. Whenever he 
 heard any wild tale of Jack's goings on, 
 he would trumpet it abroad, thinking it 
 told much to the credit of his old 
 comrade's son. Nelly looked very grave 
 when she heard of these stories. She 
 had only too good reason to know 
 how a University Rake's progress ended. 
 Sam Paradine, her eldest brother, had 
 been the brilliant boy of his family. 
 He acquired all his father's scholarship, 
 and he had far more genius. Old 
 Paradine took care not to favour him, 
 but when Sam was quite young, and at 
 the top of his class, boys had noticed the 
 grim face of the schoolmaster relax, and 
 a smile come over it as he listened to his 
 son do his work. He was always first at 
 school, and he took the School Exhibition 
 and another good scholarship at Oxford, 
 then he went up to the University with a 
 career before him which every one pro- 
 phesied would be splendid ; and it was 
 splendid — in a way. After his second 
 term, it is doubtful whether Sam ever found 
 time to open a book. He was in what is 
 called the very best set at Christ Church, 
 and was the most popular man of his day. 
 Young men of rank, and rich young
 
 16 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 men who wished to be in fashion, and all 
 sorts and conditions of undergraduates, 
 tried to know Sam Paradine, and repeat- 
 ed his sayings — which to speak truth 
 were commonplace enough — and made 
 much of him. And Sam accepted the 
 situation. It was necessary that such 
 a popular man as he was, should spend 
 money. He spent such money as he could 
 get hold of, and did wonders in the way of 
 running into debt. His income with his 
 Exhibition scholarship and the small 
 allowance which his father could afford 
 him, amounted to about two hundred and 
 fifty pounds a year. At one time he kept 
 two horses : his dinners were the best in 
 the college, his orders to the new cigar 
 and wine merchant, who started at Oxford 
 in his time, were the most princely which 
 that enterprising tradesman ever received. 
 Almost all the Oxford tradesmen had his 
 name in their books, and at the same time he 
 dealt with those of the metropolis. Even 
 the London hotel-keepers were induced 
 to let him have a running account, and he 
 ran up heavy bills at two famous hostel- 
 ries, where he would stay in the vacations, 
 and entertain with the splendour of an 
 American millionaire. In his second year 
 the crash came. It was splendid and 
 complete. He was sent away from college,
 
 NELLY PARADINE. 17 
 
 and though he was made a bankrupt, there 
 were some debts, which, for reasons best 
 known to Mr. Paradine, Sam, and the 
 money lender to whom they were owed, 
 had to be paid. That date marked an 
 era in the family history, after which there 
 had to be much pinching, screwing, and 
 discomfort. The furniture got shabbier, 
 and was not renewed. There was less 
 money forthcoming for household expenses. 
 Mr. Paradine' s stock of old port wine came 
 to an end, and the cellar was not re- 
 plenished : but gin and water, and plenty 
 of it too, took its place. A drawn, hag- 
 gard look, for the first time came into the 
 old man's rubicund countenance. 
 
 Nelly saw very little of Sam, after that 
 date. He went up to London, and for a 
 year or so some of his old splendour hung 
 round him. After a while he began to 
 show a greasy and shabby appearance, his 
 face became bloated, and he was believed 
 to be getting a living, somehow or the 
 other, on the fringe of literature. Little 
 was known of him at Fetchester, his name 
 never being mentioned in his old home. 
 Some girls might see something romantic 
 in a wild reckless college career, but 
 Nelly was not one of them. She thought 
 of her brother Sam, and dreaded lest 
 Jack Warleigh should be following in his 
 
 vol. i. c
 
 18 ' JACK WARLEIQH. 
 
 footsteps. So she shook her head and 
 took a serious view of Jack's delin- 
 quencies. About this time there had 
 been a change in Fetchester, which had a 
 great deal of influence upon Nelly, as 
 also upon other of the townspeople. The 
 good old vicar of St. Paul's had died, and 
 been succeeded by a priest who for some 
 time kept the little town in a ferment, 
 and made his name and .his church very 
 familiar in the ecclesiastical courts. 
 
 The Reverend Henry Latimer, or 
 " Father Latimer " as he preferred to be 
 styled, made things lively at Fetchester, 
 and woke up a spirit of militant pro- 
 testantism. Mr. Bloggs, the butcher in 
 the High Street, found himself impelled 
 to protest in church, against the merry- 
 andrewing and antics, as he called it of 
 the parson ; and afterwards had to go to 
 prison instead of paying the fine, which 
 the magistrates were obliged to impose 
 upon him for brawling. Major Chaffinch, 
 whose attendance at church, had been — 
 to put it mildly — irregular, came to the 
 front as a protestant champion. Going 
 to church became quite interesting, for 
 there was no telling what the parson 
 would be up to next, and his doings on 
 the Sunday would be the subject for 
 much talk during the week. The Vicar,
 
 NELLY PAEADINE. 19 
 
 of course, had his party. It consisted 
 of a large proportion of the women-folk, 
 some womanly men of the better classes, 
 and a good many poor people, to whom, to 
 do him justice, he was extremely chari- 
 table. Nelly was of the vicar's party. 
 Perhaps if Fetchester had not been so 
 dull, she would not have been so devoted 
 an adherent. As it was, she worked 
 vestments, joined a guild of young ladies, 
 who swept out the church, and did the 
 work which in more benighted times en-_ 
 abled an old and deserving woman to 
 earn a livelihood. She also attended 
 countless services, and even went so far 
 as to attend confessional, when the vicar 
 introduced the rite. People wondered 
 that her father did not put a stop to it ; but 
 he only said " she was too sensible a girl 
 not to get wiser in time." Mr. Paradine 
 himself took things easily, and in church 
 slept through the vicar's addresses, which 
 were directed against the principles of 
 the Reformation, as he had slept through 
 the late vicar's prosy orthodoxy. 
 
 Jack Warleigh, when he came home 
 from Cambridge, chaffed Nelly about her 
 church sweeping and ritualism, and did 
 not guess how much his chaff displeased 
 her. Some of Jack's remarks came to 
 the ears of the vicar, who had a feminine 
 c 2
 
 20 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 propensity for listening to petty gossip 
 and interfering in the private affairs of 
 his parishioners. He heard some talk of 
 an engagement between Jack and 
 Nelly, and being one of those who " rush 
 in where angels fear to tread," thought 
 that to talk to a young girl of her lover 
 was a duty for which he was quite suited. 
 So he found an opportunity of saying a 
 word to Nelly about Jack. First he 
 warned her against Mrs. Warleigh. The 
 widow like a good woman had accepted all 
 her religion from her father, an excellent 
 divine, whose views were moderately low- 
 church, and she expressed her horror at 
 the new doings. The priest showed 
 Nelly how Mrs. Warleigh's disobedience 
 to the Church bore fruit in her son. That 
 abandoned young man, who was not only 
 hopelessly vicious, but scoffed at the 
 Church and her priests, was on the side of 
 her ignorant and contemptible oppressors, 
 and intended for the sake of earthly profit 
 to take Holy Orders. He had heard that 
 Nelly hesitated to repudiate an engage- 
 ment she had entered into with this repro- 
 bate. For his sake, even if he were not- 
 utterly lost, she ought to overcome any sin- 
 ful love she might have for him. Nelly's 
 womanly instinct told her that no man 
 had a right to talk to her about Jack
 
 NELLY PAEADINE. 21 
 
 in this way, but her church feeling con- 
 quered, and she listened to him, and then 
 doubted if she ought not to obey him. 
 
 Their conversation had begun in the 
 vestry of St. Paul's, and was continued in 
 the churchyard. And it happened that 
 the subject of it — Jack Warleigk — was 
 waiting for Nelly, lounging by the railing 
 of the Grammar School, talking to old 
 Chaffinch. 
 
 " Jack, my boy," said the latter, as he 
 stared at the vicar with a malignant eye, 
 " they tell me that you're sweet in that 
 quarter, if you are, look after that fox of 
 a vicar. I know the breed — dash 'em. 
 He has as big a bag of tricks as any 
 monkey. Hang me ! if he hasn't set up 
 confessing. Dashed if I wouldn't — " but 
 the rest of the major's speech was utterly 
 unsuited for reproduction : so rich was 
 it in illustration and invective. When 
 Nelly met Jack she felt half ashamed of 
 herself, something told her that it would 
 be better for her not to let the parson 
 come between them. But the latter's 
 bad luck prompted him to speak upon 
 just the wrong subject. 
 
 " Well, Nellie, have you been confessing 
 your sins, or has it been a meeting of the 
 holy dusters ? " 
 
 " You know you ought not to talk in
 
 
 22 JACK WAKLEIGH. 
 
 that way about sacred subjects," Nelly 
 said, more angry than she would have 
 been if she had not felt doubtful as to 
 whether or no she ought to have let the 
 vicar speak to her as he had done. 
 
 " What nonsense, Nelly ! What can 
 there be sacred in a lot of you girls taking 
 it into your heads to do old Mrs. Grimes' 
 work, and sweep out the church ?" 
 answered Jack, still in blissful ignorance 
 of the coming storm. 
 
 "It is not nonsense, Mr. Warleigh. 
 We think differently, so differently that it 
 is impossible for us to be friends, and for 
 me to respect or care for you. No, I am 
 in earnest, I intended to say this as soon 
 as I saw you. What we spoke of once, 
 must be all over. We have both altered. 
 If you had cared for me, your life would 
 have been different and you would have 
 been steadier, and not have learned to 
 sneer at everything that is good. You, 
 who think of becoming a clergyman." 
 
 " I don't say that I am as good as I 
 should be," pleaded Jack, " I have been 
 wild and idle perhaps, but when I become 
 a parson, I intend to do my duty. You 
 know what made me determine to take 
 the living. Nelly ! you and I are not 
 going to quarrel about this ritualistic rot." 
 
 " We must each go our own way. If
 
 NELLY PARADLNE. 23 
 
 you choose to commit the sin of taking 
 orders for an unworthy motive, I'll have 
 nothing to do with it," answered Nelly, 
 looking very white .and determined. 
 
 In the distance, turning the corner of 
 the Square, Jack saw the long shambling 
 figure of the vicar. He remembered old 
 Chaffinch's words, and he lost his temper. 
 
 " You have allowed that man-milliner 
 to talk to you about me, and permitted 
 him to interfere between us. You seem 
 to think because he calls himself a priest 
 he may say what he likes to you," angrily 
 blurted out Jack. 
 
 " Stop. You need not say any more. 
 I will never speak to you again. You 
 have insulted me," said Nelly, and she 
 turned round and walked away. Jack 
 stood staring at her, hardly realizing at 
 first how serious the breach between them 
 was. 
 
 So it ended ; for from that day they 
 were no longer even friends. Mrs. 
 Warleigh thought Nelly had proved her- 
 self to be heartless. What mother is just 
 to the girl whom she thinks has made her 
 son unhappy? She thought it Nelly's 
 fault that Jack was wild and reckless ; 
 and the friendship between Nelly and the 
 widow, which had been very sweet to both 
 of them, seemed to be broken and at an end.
 
 24 JACK WARLE1GH. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 a morning's reflections. 
 
 Jack Warleigh's sufferings were perhaps 
 a good deal less acute than his mother 
 believed them to be. He was hurt and 
 angry, and considered that Nelly had 
 treated him badly. 
 
 He felt that if he had chosen to give way 
 to dissipation he would have an excuse 
 for it, and on going up for the next term, 
 he went his own way and got into " rows " 
 with the Dons — ran up numerous ticks 
 with the tradesmen of Cambridge, and 
 generally behaved himself as if the 
 morrow with its reckonings would never 
 come. 
 
 One morning, however, it dawned 
 upon him that it had come. His first 
 sensation had been a bad headache. 
 Then he experienced a dull sense of im- 
 pending trouble. He knew that some- 
 thing was wrong, though his drowsy senses 
 did not, at first, tell him what it was, and 
 gradually, one after another, what seemed
 
 a moaning' s keflections. 25 
 
 to be either the incidents of the evening 
 before, or the conclusion of some horrible 
 dream, came out uncertainly to his misty 
 senses. Was it a dream ? JackWarleigh 
 asked himself. So far, there was no 
 corroboration except the he ad- ache. 
 Certainly all he remembered was wild 
 and confused enough for a night- 
 mare. Incident seemed to have followed 
 incident, with a rapidity that was hardly 
 real. But then there was the headache, 
 and there on a chair by his bedside was a 
 slip of white paper, on which there was a 
 curt notice, half lithographed : 6 Mr. 
 Warleigh to call on Mr. Perker at 10.30.' 
 With a sickening sense that he was going 
 to see more that would distress him, he 
 crawled to the door that led into his 
 sitting-room. On a table there was a 
 clean white cloth and his breakfast laid 
 out in orderly fashion. But that only 
 emphasized its surroundings. Huddled in 
 a heap in a corner of the room was a 
 confused mass of legs of chairs, the back 
 of a sofa, fragments of a sideboard, and 
 other bits of what was once the furniture 
 of his college rooms ; the door was 
 smashed in and the windows broken. 
 
 " Well, I shan't want 'em, that's one 
 thing, my occupancy of these or any other 
 rooms in Cambridge is at an end. I
 
 26 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 remember that enough happened last 
 night, to get me ' sent down ' twenty 
 times over," Jack said to himself, with a 
 sigh. 
 
 " Ain't it hawfnl, sir ? Lor ! when I 
 come into these rooms this morning, sir, 
 I was took that aback that I goes into the 
 pantry, an' sets down on the floor and 'as 
 a good cry. That's what I did, sir. The 
 furnitur' that I hev' a dusted and took 
 care of like as if it was my hown. And the 
 sight o' empty bottles," said a husky voice, 
 and a little old woman with a dirty face, 
 red eyes, and a certain unsteadiness of 
 gait and manner — which suggested that 
 she had sought consolation from some of 
 the not quite empty bottles — came into the 
 sitting-room from the pantry. 
 
 " Ah, this finishes me, Mrs. Gruppy, 
 ' it's all up with the army,' as Balbus 
 said." 
 
 " And well he might say so, sir : though 
 if he was here last night, I dare say lie 
 was as bad as enny of 'em — that it should 
 come to this ! To'think of your clear Mar, 
 what she'd say. When I thinks of 'er 
 sittin' on one o' them theer cheers at that 
 'ere table, when she come hup in the May 
 term — eatin' luncheon — little did I ever 
 think it 'ud come to this, for I'm a mother 
 myself and 'as a feelin' 'art."
 
 a mobning's reflcetions. 27 
 
 " Confound you, get out of this and 
 don't stand jabbering there," shouted Jack 
 Warleigh : for the old woman's maunder- 
 ings had touched him on rather a sore point. 
 
 Mrs. Gruppy took herself off, declaiming 
 as to her feelings when she came into the 
 rooms in the morning — " Though the por- 
 ter at the gate told her that there had 
 been goings on at Mr. Warleigh' s the 
 night before, she wouldn't have believed 
 that the rooms were in the state they 
 were. " Wot if he'd gone down on his 
 bended knees, andsworedit on the Bible." 
 
 " Yos, I ought to have thought about 
 that before," Warleigh groaned, as he 
 followed up the train of reflections which 
 the old woman's words had suggested. 
 " Ah, what an infernal fool he had made 
 of himself ! " 
 
 The yesterday had been most disastrous, 
 and yet it had begun so well. 
 
 At ten o'clock he had left his rooms on 
 his way to Long Jones, his tutor's. New- 
 market races were going on, but though 
 the day before had been the Cambridge- 
 shire, and plenty of men had pressed him 
 to go with them, he had resisted all temp- 
 tations, and stayed at home and read. 
 
 But just as he neared the tutor's door, a 
 passing wagonette pulled up, and a chorus 
 of cheery voices shouted out his name.
 
 28 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 " Jack Warleigli ! Jump in and come 
 with us to Newmarket," shouted the 
 driver, one Jack Raggles of Magdalene. 
 
 " Can't, I'm off to Long Jones' to coach,'* 
 said Jack. 
 
 " Long Jones ! what rot," said Raggles. 
 " Come on, I've a real good thing for the 
 two-year-old race to-day — a certainty — 
 my tout has written to me about it. He 
 is a wonderful clever chap is my tout. I 
 gave him a pair of race-glasses the other 
 day, and he tells me he has seen a trial 
 with 'em already. Jump in, we'll come 
 back with a hatful of money," said Mr. 
 Raggles, who had the reputation of 
 being a very deep fellow indeed. 
 
 The day before Jack had beaten the 
 tempter on a good square fair fight. He had 
 kept away from Newmarket in the Cam- 
 bridgeshire day. But now he was knocked 
 out of time by a chance blow. There was 
 really no reason why he should have gone. 
 Raggles was just the sort of man his good 
 sense told him it would be well to fight 
 shy of, nevertheless Jack Warleigh jumped 
 into the wagonette, and in less time than 
 it takes to tell, was bowling along in 
 the direction of the famous heath. 
 
 Jack had been much impressed with 
 Mr. Raggles' tout when that gentleman 
 sidled up to them after the first race. He
 
 a morning's ee flections. 29 
 
 was a red-faced man with a chronic droop 
 of the left eyelid and an air of much 
 mystery. 
 
 " You'd have to back ' Beggarman ' for 
 the two-year-old race, Squire," he said 
 whispering in Mr. Raggles' ear, and 
 making the whole wagonette smell of 
 spirits. " Go ' nap ' on it ! " 
 
 " But you told me ' Early Mo,' " said 
 Raggles, almost piteously, for he felt a 
 sickening dawn of doubt. 
 
 The red-nosed man shook his head with 
 an air of intense knowingness. In his 
 mind he was reflecting on the danger 
 of drink when he had to remember 
 which certainty he had given to each of his 
 patrons. 
 
 " It's a certainty for ' Early Mo,' bar 
 ' Beggarman,' back 'em both, there ain't no 
 one can tell straighter than that, there 
 ain't nothing else in the race goin'." 
 
 " But one won't stand to win much, 
 backing the two favourites," said Raggles 
 piteously. 
 
 " That's just the thing, young gents ; 
 you're 'ankerin' arter winners at thirty- 
 three to one. I might say one of the 
 hothers and chance it, but I says what I 
 knows, an' when I can't pick between two, 
 I owns it honest and says, back 'em both" 
 and Mr. Bulbeck reflected that he had got
 
 30 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 rather well out of his stupid mistake. 
 Then mysteriously saying that he was 
 going to have a word with a party in the 
 paddock " as will tell me somethink, 
 Squire, as I shall 'ave to tell } r ou," he slip- 
 ped away. They would have been surprised 
 perhaps to have seen him sidle up to 
 another young gentleman, and, tapping 
 him on the shoulder, inform him that the 
 two-year-old race was a moral for Mono- 
 pole, and so on going from client to client 
 giving them various information, until he 
 had given every horse in the race. So 
 that he watched the race which was won 
 by neither Early Mo nor Beggarman — 
 with the pleasing consciousness that he 
 had done a good turn to some one. But 
 though his information was so faulty, his 
 manner was as impressive as ever, when 
 he came back to Mr. Raggles and his 
 friends, who were all losers. 
 
 " He very- think haltered in the weighing 
 room and the money all shifted at the last 
 minute : dear, dear, there'll be warnin's 
 hoff and the dooce to pay about this 'ere, 
 an' serves 'em right, I says," was his 
 apology, and not one whit abashed he 
 whispered a " good thing " for the next 
 race, which somehow they all believed in. 
 
 There was something beautiful in the 
 child-like faith with which they clung to
 
 a morning's reflections. 31 
 
 Mr. Bulbeck. Without him Mr. Haggles 
 felt that he would cease to be the knowing 
 character he had always been, and would 
 have no rock to cling to. The others 
 followed Haggles, for they had always 
 believed in his judgment, and the con- 
 sequence was Jack Warleigh returned to 
 Cambridge, having lost more money than 
 he could afford. 
 
 Tf when they got back to Cambridge 
 they had separated, it would not have beeii 
 so bad. But young men who have got 
 into mischief find it difficult to separate. 
 They dined at the Hoop together. After 
 dinner they went out for a stroll. Their 
 evil genius' led them to the market square, 
 where it happened that a disturbance made 
 by some undergraduates at an entertain- 
 ment at the Town Hall, had led to a mild 
 town and gown row. R aggies was in the 
 thick of it at once, attempting to rescue a 
 man who had been arrested by the police. 
 Perhaps it was lucky for them that the 
 Proctor came up, and taking their names 
 and colleges, sent them home. By that 
 time they were endeared to each other by 
 a sense of troubles undergone together. 
 They determined to spend the rest of the 
 evening at Jack Warleigh' s rooms. On the 
 way they met a very mild freshman, whom 
 one of them knew. It would be capital
 
 32 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 fun to ask him too, some one said. They 
 finished the evening with a vengeance. 
 They had songs, then there was a general 
 bear- fighting, in which a good deal of 
 furniture was smashed, then more songs 
 with chorus. Some of these choruses were 
 of the stupid, objectionable, old-fashioned 
 Cambridge type. While one of them was 
 being howled out, some one at the window, 
 which looked into the street, discovered 
 that the Proctor and his bulldogs, as the 
 Proctor's men are called, were standing 
 outside listening. Probably he was pon- 
 dering over the non-survival of the fittest 
 in melody, and declaring he would even 
 sooner have made a good many of our 
 laws, than the particular song he was 
 listening to. 
 
 " Throw something at him," said Hag- 
 gles of Magdalene. 
 
 " What a lark ! " said another of the 
 party, the freshman who had been asked 
 by chance, and who hitherto had done 
 nothing to add to the harmony of the 
 evening. " I'll have a shot," and taking 
 up a bag of eggs which, had been 
 brought in by Jack's bed-maker that 
 day, he threw one of them at the Proctor, 
 and by sheer bad luck — for he was in no 
 condition to aim straight — hit him between 
 the eyes.
 
 a morning's beflections. 33 
 
 " You young idiot ! " said Jack, and for 
 a minute, dismay fell upon the party. 
 But Haggles was " going down " at the 
 end of the term, and cared not a straw 
 whether he was sent down or went down 
 on his own account. 
 
 " Let's stand a siege," he shouted, " we 
 shall soon have the dons on to us, don't 
 let 'em in. You're game, Warleigh, ain't 
 you?" 
 
 " Yes, I'm game," said Jack. " One 
 may as well die game." 
 
 Soon there was a knock at the sported 
 oak, and one of the fellows of the college 
 was heard demanding to be let in. He 
 was answered by derisive shouts and yells. 
 
 " Ah ! he's gone to get the porter to 
 open the oak ; let's barricade the inside 
 door," said Haggles, and they began to 
 move furniture, upset the sideboard, and 
 did more of the breaking. 
 
 Jack no longer cared a bit. After all 
 he could only be expelled. He was 
 perfectly reckless and mad with excite- 
 ment. The outside door was opened, and 
 this was answered by a yell of defiance 
 from the besieged. They could identify 
 the leader of the storming party as the 
 junior dean, who had made himself un- 
 popular. Some of the men who knew 
 him shouted out his name, coupled with 
 
 YOL. T. D
 
 34 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 personal remarks calculated to hurt his 
 feelings. Mr. Haggles, who did not 
 know him, contented himself with shouting 
 at him by name, calling him vituperative 
 epithets which would suit any one. 
 
 " I say, why should not we bolt out of 
 here ? These bars ain't over strong," 
 suggested one of the party who had 
 opened the window. 
 
 " Right you are, my boy, that would 
 sell 'em," said Raggles. " But what 
 does Jack say?" 
 
 " Capital idea ; make haste about it," 
 said Jack. 
 
 It was a match which would hold out 
 longest, the door or the window bar ? 
 The latter went first. The besieged 
 party, one by one, squeezed through and 
 dropped into the dark lane outside. The 
 valiant Raggles alone remained. 
 
 " I'll see you through it, old chap," 
 said he. " There goes the door. Pro- 
 duce the classics ! " And then, after 
 pausing a moment to collect his dignity, 
 the dean entered. 
 
 Jack was standing at the table with a 
 Juvenal and a Greek Lexicon before him. 
 Raggles, with great difficulty, was balanc- 
 ing himself on a one-legged chair, the only 
 one that remained, and was hard at work 
 at an algebra and a Latin dictionary.
 
 a moening's reflections. 35 
 
 " Curious conduct of a clergyman ! " 
 said Haggles, as he eyed the junior dean 
 reproachfully. " Can't a man read in 
 this college without being drawn by the 
 the dons ? Most officious I must say." 
 " Hullo a ! " and he broke off as the wreck 
 he was sitting on finally collapsed, and he 
 sat down heavily on a broken bottle. 
 
 Jack remembered that his friend was 
 soon afterwards persuaded by the porters 
 to take his departure, saying, as he picked 
 up some of Jack's books, that he would go 
 and read in Magdalene, where he could 
 have quiet, and the dons left him alone. 
 Of the dean's leave-taking Jack had not 
 quite such a clear idea, but he remembered 
 that it was not pleasant or cordial. 
 
 They would have him up before the 
 Master and senior fellows, Jack thought, as 
 he finished his toilet, and he would have 
 an opportunity, for the first time, of 
 making the acquaintance of that dis- 
 tinguished scholar, the head of his college. 
 He had never spoken to him before, and 
 he didn't suppose he ever should again. 
 He put his hand into his pocket, and 
 pulling out the note-book he was taking 
 with him to his coach the morning before, 
 he threw it at the heap of broken 
 furniture. He wouldn't want that any 
 more. He had finished with Greek and 
 d 2
 
 36 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 Latin Accidence, and Paley's Evidences. 
 Then he gloomily pondered over the idea 
 suggested by the old woman's babbling. 
 Yes, it would be a bad day when he went 
 home, expelled and disgraced. He ought 
 to have thought of that before, however, 
 but, hang it ! he seemed to have thought 
 of nothing at all the day before. 
 
 " Come in, it's not locked," he cried, 
 as he heard a knock at the splintered 
 door. 
 
 A young man with a pale face, in 
 which remorse and biliousness were the 
 prevailing characteristics, came in ; and 
 gazed round at the smashed furniture : — 
 
 " Warleigh, this is terrible : what will 
 they do to us do you think ? " he said, all 
 but bursting into tears. 
 
 " You're not the man you were last 
 night, my boy. There was no holding 
 you then," said Jack, as he contemplated 
 his visitor's face and thought what a fool 
 he had been to let such a young ass get 
 him into so much trouble. 
 
 " Oh, my father will be so awfully cut 
 up if I am ' sent down.' He thinks such 
 a lot of Cambridge and degrees and all 
 that sort of thing. It was a precious 
 pull for him sending me up here." 
 
 And the youngster did actually begin to 
 cry.
 
 a moening's eefleotions. 37 
 
 Jack looked at him, and felt that he 
 could follow his example. His mother 
 had not too much money, and the sum 
 wasted on his disastrous University 
 career would have come in very useful. 
 
 " Yes," replied Jack, " it seems pretty 
 considerable ' rot ' to play the fool as we 
 did last night ; but that is past and over. 
 After all you weren't caught. What is 
 the good of crying out before you're hurt ? 
 Nobody saw you fellows get out of the 
 window, so no one knows who was here 
 last night." 
 
 " But we can't let you bear the brunt 
 of it all. It was all my fault, how I was 
 such a fool I can't make out. You mustn't 
 suffer for me." 
 
 " Anyhow I have to suffer for myself, 
 and have about earned the extreme 
 penalty of University law. So I'd better 
 be the only victim," said Jack mournfully, 
 and then putting on a battered cap and a 
 ragged gown he started off to interview 
 his tutor, Mr. Perker.
 
 38 JACK WAELEIGH, 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A SYMPATHETIC COLLEGE TUTOR. 
 
 The Reverend Edward Perker — or Teddy 
 Perker as he was irreverently called by 
 undergraduates — was the senior tutor of 
 St. George's. He had not been born with 
 a silver spoon in his mouth, for he was 
 the son of a small tradesman at Cambridge, 
 who had never succeeded in making more 
 than a bare living out of his shop. Nor 
 had Nature been very bountiful to him in 
 the matter of personal gifts. He had a 
 yellow bilious face, no particular features, 
 and a strong cast in his little dyspeptic 
 eyes. But better than being born rich or 
 handsome he had been born lucky. He 
 had tolerable brains too, though he was 
 always an example, among his contem- 
 poraries, of a man who made a compara- 
 tively small amount of learning go as far 
 as possible in obtaining University 
 successes. At the Town Grammar 
 School, where he was educated, he was
 
 A SYMPATHETIC COLLEGE TUTOE. 39 
 
 an unpleasant little boy, with a taste for 
 telling tales of his school-fellows. In con- 
 sequence he was never tempted away 
 from his lessons by other boys wishing to 
 play with him. In clue time he went up 
 for a sizarship at St. George's, and just 
 won it. He stuck to his books at college 
 for much the same reason he did at 
 school, and he was rewarded by taking a 
 fair degree half-way up among the wrang- 
 lers. Any other year he would not have 
 got a fellowship, but here his luck came 
 in. St. George's had unusually few good 
 men that year. After fellowship he found 
 what became the pursuit of his life. 
 He took private pupils, and one long 
 vacation, he was asked to stay at the 
 country house of one of them. At the 
 " Fellows" table he had never found it 
 easy to make a favourable impression on 
 his companions, or to find any subject on 
 which he could shine in conversation. 
 But at the country house there was one 
 object on which he could interest his 
 hostess, one of the proudest women in 
 England. He could talk about her son. 
 
 Before that he had hated all under- 
 graduates, for he always believed they 
 were sneering at him and his low birth. 
 Now he began to love them, or rather a 
 section of them — as the Cambridge money-
 
 40 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 lenders and dog-fanciers did — for what 
 he could get out of them. The men at 
 the high table of St. George's might 
 sneer at him, but people in the great 
 world would tolerate him, if he made him- 
 self useful to their sons. By good luck 
 he became one of the tutors of St. 
 George's, and in time senior tutor. His 
 side was always most popular with young 
 men of position and wealth. Great ladies 
 spoke of him with affection. Their sons 
 would always find a kind friend in Mr. 
 Perker. In fact sprigs of the nobility 
 who wished to live their own lives with- 
 out troubling themselves much about 
 college discipline, could not find a more 
 complacent tutor. He tolerated poor 
 men who read hard, and were likely to 
 take good degrees, but men who were 
 poor, idle and had no influential relations 
 who could ask him to their country houses 
 in the vacation, were, he considered, 
 quite out of place at St. George's. Pro- 
 bably he was not far wrong, for the idle 
 poor man does not do much good at 
 the University. For Jack Warleigh, 
 Mr. Perker had at an early period of 
 their acquaintance conceived a great 
 dislike. Here was a young man who 
 had not much more than two hundred 
 a year to live upon at Cambridge, and he
 
 A SYMPATHETIC COLLEGE TUTOE. 41 
 
 gave himself airs, as if he were the eldest 
 son of a nobleman. He detected too, a 
 tendency on the young fellow's part to 
 laugh at him. It was true Jack was the 
 cousin of Sir George Warleigh, his very 
 esteemed friend and old pupil, but when 
 Mr. Perker had mentioned his name 
 to Sir George, at a country house 
 where they were staying, the baronet's 
 manner had given him to understand that 
 he did not take the slightest interest in 
 his young kinsman, and had no very high 
 opinion of him. Mr. Perker was only too 
 willing to adopt that opinion. There 
 was little love lost between them. Jack 
 at first thought him a cadaverous- 
 looking little wretch, with a manner full 
 of distrust of himself and suspicions of 
 other people ; and troubled himself very 
 little about him, but he afterwards began 
 to dislike him most cordially. There 
 was nothing Mr. Perker resented more 
 than to be despised by any one who 
 had no position. At first he was inclined 
 to believe that Jack must be somebody, 
 but when he found out the facts of the 
 case, he began to hate him, and to take 
 care that he was duly punished for all 
 his irregularities. It would have been 
 impossible for him to have hated him, if 
 he had been an eldest son with ten thou-
 
 42 JACK WABLEIGH. 
 
 sand a year, or even the younger son of 
 any one of rank, for he honestly loved 
 undergraduates of that class. 
 
 " Confound the little brute, he always 
 wanted me ' sent down,' and now he'll 
 have his way," Jack said to himself, as 
 he climbed Mr. Perker's stairs. 
 
 " Hullo, Warleigh, going to see Teddy, 
 are you ? " said a young man, who passed 
 him going down. " He's not a bad little 
 chap," he added, in response to some 
 maledictions which Jack growled out 
 anent his tutor, " I've been overstaying 
 my exeat by four days, but I got some 
 game in Town, and said it was from the 
 governor's place, and made up a message 
 from the mater, saying she was looking 
 forward so much to his paying a visit 
 in the summer, and that put him all 
 right." 
 
 " Yes, hang him, but I haven't a 
 governor or a place to ask him to," Jack 
 growled out, as he knocked at the door. 
 
 Once before, when he had been guilty 
 of some trifling misdemeanour, Jack had 
 found his tutor sitting at his table, with 
 a piece of note paper before him. 
 
 " I was just writing to your mother, to 
 ask her to have you removed from 
 Cambridge," were the cheering words 
 with which he was met on that occasion.
 
 A SYMPATHETIC COLLEGE TUTOR. 43 
 
 He expected a similar reception ; " or 
 perhaps," he thought, " now he has me at 
 his mercy, he "won't take the trouble to 
 get up a piece of theatrical business." 
 
 Mr. Perker's rooms were artistically 
 furnished with old oak, and there were 
 some valuable prints on the walls, together 
 with one or two dubious old masters about 
 which their owner talked with a good 
 display of art jargon ; though of any 
 real love of art he was as guiltless as 
 when he was a grimy little boy at the 
 Town Grammar School. Mr. Perker was 
 standing before the fire, reading the 
 Times, when Jack entered the room, and 
 as he turned round to greet him, Jack 
 noticed something in his face and manner 
 which seemed to be intended to convey 
 deep sympathy. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Warleigh," he said, shaking 
 his head and turning up his bilious little 
 eyes ; " this is a sad piece of news we 
 have to-day, terribly sad ! " 
 
 The big undergraduate looked at his 
 little tutor with a gaze of rather sulky 
 bewilderment. 
 
 " He seems to be taking a new line, con- 
 sidering that, once or twice, he has told me 
 that it would end in my being ' sent down.' 
 He need not pretend he is so astonished 
 about it all," Jack thought to himself.
 
 44 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 " Such a promising career cut short," 
 Mr. Perker continued, with a sniff of 
 commiseration. 
 
 " Well, if he thought my career pro- 
 mising, he kept it pretty much to himself. 
 I believe the little beast is laughing at 
 me," was Jack's inward comment, and he 
 began to look savage, though he said 
 nothing. 
 
 " Poor Sir George, he was one of the 
 most promising young men we have had 
 at St. George's. I had the greatest regard 
 for him," continued Mr. Perker. 
 
 " If you mean my cousin, he doesn't 
 care a rap about me, or I about him," 
 said Jack, who was beginning to get out 
 of patience. 
 
 " I know you don't mean to be un- 
 feeling," Mr. Perker went on. " You 
 probably did not understand each other. 
 Why, have you not seen the sad news ?" 
 he added, as he noticed the expression of 
 his pupil's face. " I must prepare you 
 for a sad shock. Here is the paragraph," 
 and taking up the Times from the table 
 he pointed to a telegram from Scotland. 
 
 Jack Warleigh read that Sir George 
 Warleigh' s yacht, the Sea Meiv, had 
 been wrecked on the west coast. Sir 
 George, his wife, and his two sons, had 
 been on board, and all had been drowned.
 
 A SYMPATHETIC COLLEGE TUTOR. 45 
 
 His first emotion was that of sorrow. 
 The difference it wonlcl make to his own 
 life did not occur to him. 
 
 " Yes, it is terribly sad," he said, as he 
 read it. " I never liked the little I knew 
 of him, but I daresay he was a very good 
 fellow in his way — distinguished and all 
 that sort of thing." Then he read a 
 paragraph underneath — the account of 
 the wreck — which gave a biography of his 
 cousin, and wound up with a statement 
 which tookhis breath away, " The deceased 
 baronet is succeeded in the title and family 
 honours by Mr. John Warleigh, now a 
 student at St. George's College, Cam- 
 bridge." He had never thought of that. 
 
 Now that Jack had a title and a fine 
 estate, no one could be more kind and 
 sympathetic than Mr. Perker, and in a 
 way his sympathy was genuine. He could 
 now easily forgive Sir John his supposed 
 insolence of manner and irregularities. 
 Young men with titles and large incomes 
 had a right, so he really thought, to be 
 insolent and irregular. 
 
 There was another matter, about a 
 disturbance in his rooms the night before, 
 Mr. Perker went on to say. He had 
 received a letter from the Junior Dean 
 and the Proctor. It was very painful 
 that it should have occurred at such a
 
 46 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 time. He had no wish to trouble him 
 when he was suffering from so severe an 
 affliction, but it might have to come 
 before the masters and seniors, who 
 would probably take a severe view of the 
 case. However, Sir John could depend 
 upon him doing his best for him. Under 
 the circumstances, perhaps it would be 
 as well if he went down for a few days. 
 Anyhow, he would not come into resi- 
 dence again that term ; but he hoped he 
 would come up again and take his degree. 
 
 " Rum little chap, Teddy Perker, but 
 not so bad as I thought him to be. After 
 all, my change of fortune can make very 
 little difference to him. He is not going 
 to ask me to lend him any money. 
 Really, he is very kind and considerate," 
 Jack thought to himself, and he left his 
 tutor's room in a very different frame of 
 mind from that in which he entered 
 it. 
 
 The folly of the night before, which had 
 seemed so disastrous, had faded away, 
 and most of Jack's remorse had flown 
 also. He had never thought of stepping 
 into dead men's shoes or counted the lives 
 between himself and the entail, and he 
 was honestly grieved for the sad fate of 
 Sir George and his two sons, " poor little 
 beggars," he said to himself ; for all that
 
 A SYMPATHETIC COLLEGE TTJT0K. 47 
 
 his life had altered a good deal, and the 
 alternative was certainly a pleasant one. 
 
 When he got back to his rooms, he 
 found a visitor sitting on the one piece of 
 furniture he had left, his table. 
 
 Mrs. Gruppy who had returned to do 
 out the rooms, was entertaining him with 
 a long and dismal account of her master's 
 disaster, with an occasional excursion on 
 Jack's character and goings on. 
 
 " All right, my good woman, you needn't 
 stay here to talk to me, you may go, I'll 
 wait for him," said the gentleman on the 
 table, as he looked into a pocket book, the 
 contents of which — it was a betting book — 
 related to the recent week's racing at 
 Newmarket, and seemed to afford a text 
 for a good deal of thought. 
 
 " Well, Jack, how are you ? this ancient 
 servitor of yours has been talking me 
 very nearly silly, about the mess you are 
 in, which seems to be very serious, but 
 perhaps this news will tend to mitigate it. 
 I was staying at Newmarket for the week, 
 with Hardborough, and when I heard of 
 this, I thought that I'd stop here on my 
 way, and look you up. We might go up 
 to town together. We shall have to go 
 down to Warleigh in a day or two," he said, 
 as he got up from the table to shake hands 
 with Jack.
 
 48 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 " You remember me, don't you ? " I 
 am — let's see — your uncle, Cecil War- 
 leigh." 
 
 The two were not unlike, but the elder 
 was slighter, and a good many people 
 would have said "better looking," for 
 there was a singular charm in his face. 
 At first sight one might almost call him 
 effeminate looking, as one remarked his 
 delicately cut features, soft wavy brown 
 hair, and carefully trained moustache. 
 But the look in his eyes showed that he 
 had plenty of resolution and pluck, while 
 his figure, though it was slight, was wiry 
 and bespoke activity and strength. There 
 was something about his appearance 
 which suggested the notion that he was 
 a horseman. It would be difficult to say 
 what it was ; certainly his dress was free 
 from any suspicion of horseyness, but the 
 suggestion was there, none the less, and 
 it was not belied by the fact, for Captain 
 Warleigh was, so many good judges 
 averred, the best gentleman rider of his 
 day, both on the flat and across coun- 
 try. 
 
 " Let's see, why, it's about four years 
 since we met at Fetchester," said Captain 
 Warleigh, after Jack had declared that 
 he remembered him perfectly well. " I 
 little thought I was entertaining the
 
 A SYMPATHETIC COLLEGE TUTOR. 49 
 
 head of the family, or that George and 
 his two boys would go and leave yon to 
 succeed. " 
 
 " I'm afraid I shan't make as satis- 
 factory a head of the family as he was," 
 said Jack. 
 
 " Don't know so much about that. Poor 
 fellow, he is dead and gone now, and! 
 daresay he was a very useful man, and all 
 that sort of thing, but personally I thought 
 him an infernal prig ; a sort of fellow out 
 of whom you could never get anything but 
 advice. Not that he knew more about me 
 and my affairs than a child of seven. 
 Yet one doesn't take the advice very well 
 from one's nephew, although he was pretty 
 nearly my own age." 
 
 " How about starting for town ? Have 
 you to get leave ? or anything of that sort, 
 for there is a train in an hour." 
 
 Jack said he had got leave, and was 
 ready to start ; the sooner the better, he 
 thought. 
 
 In an hour or so, uncle and nephew were 
 both comfortably seated in the train, 
 bound for London. 
 
 As Jack smoked a capital cigar, and 
 listened to his uncle's talk about hunting, 
 racing, and the life he would lead now 
 he had become a rich man, he began to 
 realize that the tragedy on the West Coast 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 of Scotland would make his life very 
 different, and no doubt a good deal jollier. 
 
 What a capital good fellow his uncle 
 was, he thought. 
 
 He had always had a pleasant impres- 
 sion of him since that dinner at the 
 " Swan" at Fetchester, and now he liked 
 him better than ever. Cecil Warleigh for 
 his part felt fairly contented with things 
 as they were. Of course it would have 
 suited him better if Jack hadn't been 
 alive to stand in his way ; but he was far 
 too sensible a man to quarrel with any one 
 for being born. 
 
 " And all said and done, he's a decided 
 change from George, and a good deal 
 more can be made of him," he thought, 
 as he watched his nephew's young face 
 light up at a story of a close finish he 
 had made at Liverpool.
 
 51 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 CECIL WAELEIGH BEHAVES NICELY. 
 
 On their arrival in town Cecil and Jack 
 AVarleigh dined quietly at the latter's 
 club. It would be better form under the 
 circumstances, Cecil had suggested. 
 
 " Poor old George/' said Cecil, as they 
 smoked after dinner. " One ought not to 
 say anything against him, but he was a 
 fellow I never could get on with. As 
 soon as the governor died he sent all the 
 horses to Tattersall's, and gave Ring 
 notice to quit Windmill Lodge, the 
 neatest private training establishment for 
 steeple-chasers in England. Now, the 
 place is going to ruin, and hasn't had a 
 tenant these five years." 
 
 " If I could afford it," said Jack, " I 
 should like to have a horse or two in 
 training. I remember very well the day 
 you won the Grand National, on my 
 grandfather's horse c the Kipper ; ' and 
 very proud I was of it, though I had 
 e 2
 
 52 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 never seen you on the horse. I put on 
 ten shillings at the odds for the honour 
 of the family, and won ten pounds." 
 
 " Yes, that was my first Grand 
 National, I have won it once since then, 
 riding for Bamborough, but I'd like to 
 win it again in the Warleigh colours — the 
 old red and black stripes ; and I don't see 
 why I shouldn't, if you like to go in for it. 
 Ring would come back again to Windmill 
 Lodge, and there never was a better time 
 for getting a string of chasers together," 
 answered Cecil, and he went into a 
 dissertation on the capabilities of Wind- 
 mill Lodge, and the cost of having its 
 stables full again. " It was a shame 
 for a Warleigh of Warleigh not to have 
 some horses in training:." 
 
 " I don't deny that it would have been 
 a very good thing for us, if the black and 
 red stripes had never been seen on a race- 
 course ; for the governor must have lost 
 a fortune in the old days," Cecil con- 
 tinued ; " but latterly, when he stuck 
 pretty much to chasing, he had a fair run 
 of success." 
 
 Now and then Jack would think of the 
 terrible accident on the West Coast of 
 Scotland, and of the father, mother, and 
 sons, who had all gone down together. 
 He felt half ashamed of himself for look-
 
 CECIL WARLEIGH BEHAVES NICELY. 53 
 
 ing forward with such keen relish to the 
 change in his life which that calamity 
 assured to him. George Warleigh had 
 seemed to him cold and uncongenial, but 
 he would have filled his place, and done 
 his duty in life, well enough ; probably 
 much better than he would. Cecil "War- 
 leigh, however, was not inclined to be very 
 sympathetic when Jack talked in such a 
 strain. 
 
 " Of course, my boy, you'll do your duty 
 and all that sort of thing, well enough, 
 and you'll find that a man with a good 
 estate has far more influence in the 
 county if he goes in for sport, it'll 
 prejudice people in your favour. Poor 
 old George would lecture in the village 
 school-room, about all sorts of rot, and 
 make long-winded speeches on politics, 
 by the yard, which no one ever made 
 head or tail of, as he hemmed and hawed 
 through them. The governor had treble 
 as much influence." 
 
 Having finished their cigars, Cecil 
 suggested that perhaps as his last night 
 had been such a late one, Jack had better 
 turn in early, for his part he had to go 
 round to another club to see a man. 
 
 " Last night," thought Jack, " why it 
 seemed an age since that rowdy supper 
 party — or since he had woke up that
 
 54 JACK VVAELEIGH. 
 
 morning, trembling to think of having to 
 face Mr. Perker." He was too excited to 
 feel tired, but as Cecil did not appear 
 anxious for his company, he would walk 
 round to a college friend's lodgings, in 
 Bury Street, where there was a spare 
 bed-room for him. They parted at the 
 corner. 
 
 " Precious lucky thing I was civil to 
 that youngster the day the regiment came 
 through Fetchester. There's nothing like 
 making a good impression. Now he will 
 be able to return the compliment," Cecil 
 said to himself as he watched his nephew 
 walking away. " Well, there's no good 
 bringing him with me to-night, he will 
 get there soon enough, on his own 
 account, if he has a taste that way ; 
 besides it would not look well. As for 
 me, every one knows that no one's death — 
 except my own — would keep me from 
 having a gamble, after such a bad week 
 at Newmarket, so long as I have a penny 
 to play with."
 
 55 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A NIGHT AND A MORNING. 
 
 The club at which Cecil Warleigh 
 determined to give fortune a chance of 
 making up for lost time was a peculiar 
 institution. At that time it was in full 
 swing, though since, its career had been 
 checkered. It was a most innocent and 
 gloomy-looking place, but with all the 
 outward appearance of a well-conducted 
 club. In fact, for a short time it had 
 been one of the mushroom growths which 
 spring up all over London, having no 
 particular characteristic except that from 
 the first it was very unsuccessful. Then 
 being turned into a temple to the Goddess 
 of Fortune, it became more gloomy than 
 ever in the day time, but at night it 
 brightened up wonderfully. It was said 
 that one member who had been trans- 
 ferred to it from some other proprietary 
 club which had come to an untimely end — 
 for a long time never discovered its
 
 5(5 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 raison- d'etre, and would marvel as to how 
 the few members who were to be seen 
 in its deserted coffee and smoking rooms 
 conld possibly keep it going ; he used to 
 come to the club at six and leave it 
 at eleven. He made no acquaintance, in 
 fact as a rule there was nobody there. 
 One morning he read in a newspaper an 
 account of an action brought on a cheque ; 
 the defence being that it had been given 
 for a gambling debt. There was a whole 
 column of evidence about his club, and a 
 sensational leader on the subject. Then 
 he learned the secret of the club. The 
 establishment slept until midnight, then 
 woke up as a fashionable gambling-place. 
 Some years ago, those pleasant 
 moralists whose favourite pursuit is to 
 contrast our manners with those of our 
 grandfathers, and point out how much we 
 are improved, used to be very eloquent 
 on the subject of Crockford's. The 
 wicked hazard of the last generation had 
 become a thing of the past, they used to 
 boast. But there have been some in- 
 teresting stories told in the Law Courts 
 since those days, and it has become pretty 
 evident that baccarat has taken the place 
 of hazard, and within a stone's throw 
 from what is now the Devonshire Club 
 and once was that famous haunt of the
 
 A NIGHT AND A MORNING. 57 
 
 Goddess Fortune, there are the smaller 
 and less celebrated establishments, which 
 differ from it mainly in that the company 
 is more mixed and the proprietorship less 
 reputable. 
 
 In the card-room Cecil Warleigh found 
 
 plenty of the gilded youth, many of whom 
 
 he had met the day before at Newmarket, 
 
 and they, like himself, were determined to 
 
 do something to retrieve the bad past. 
 
 There was a nobleman in there with large 
 
 rent-rolls and income ; another nobleman 
 
 whose rent-rolls found their way into the 
 
 possession of trusts for his creditors ; a 
 
 third with no rent-roll at all. There was 
 
 a treasury clerk, who somehow lived, 
 
 gambled, hunted, went everywhere on his 
 
 pay and a hundred a year. There was 
 
 a tremendous speculator on the Stock 
 
 Exchange, who sixteen months before was 
 
 at Dinan, in Brittany, without a penn} r to 
 
 pay his hotel bill, hanging about the 
 
 jwste restante, waiting for an answer to 
 
 any one of the many begging letters he 
 
 had dispatched, and receiving nothing but 
 
 indignant epistles from some of the more 
 
 sanguine of his creditors. Now, his was 
 
 the master mind of the alliance which 
 
 "cornered" tin, and, strange to say, he 
 
 found gambling at night a relaxation, 
 
 after dealing in tens of thousands all day
 
 58 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 in the city. There were one or two 
 members whose social standing were not 
 so well defined, a dark olive-faced gentle- 
 man who had been a clerk in a money- 
 changer's office at Malta, and — so some 
 one had declared — had been a croupier at 
 Monte Carlo, and had been dismissed for 
 dishonesty. He played boldly enough, 
 however, and paid when he lost, so no 
 one troubled about his previous history. 
 There were gentlemen who called them- 
 selves, Montague Lascelle and Lewis, 
 but whose names might have been Moses, 
 Lazarus and Levi, to judge from their 
 features. There were many other curious 
 specimens of the sharp on the rise, who 
 is so often to be found at this class of 
 club. The gentleman who has once gone 
 wrong, never gets back, but the sharper 
 and scoundrel does not find it so hard to get 
 up. Cecil Warleigh, however, troubled 
 himself but little as to who were there, 
 but settled himself down to play. He 
 had some two hundred pounds at his bank, 
 all that was left of the ten thousand 
 he had come into about five years before, 
 at his father's death. His losses at New- 
 market amounted to five times as much, 
 and he vowed to himself that before he 
 went to bed that remnant of his patrimony 
 should be multiplied by five, or follow the
 
 A NIGHT AND A MORNING. 59 
 
 rest. For once it seemed that lie was to 
 be a gainer by so easily giving way to 
 the tempter. He won stake after stake. 
 He was worth fonr hundred, then six, 
 then eight, nine — then the tide of fortune 
 ebbed : now he was worth but seven, 
 varying luck presently carried him on a 
 second time to nine hundred. He got 
 impatient, increased his stake, vowing to 
 himself that he ivould reach the thousand 
 pounds. Fortune seemed to be equally 
 tired of playing with him. He lost — in- 
 creased his stake again — again he lost. 
 He now had but six hundred, now five, 
 now but three, two, one. His capital 
 grew smaller and smaller, as he played 
 on with decreasing stakes, till the last 
 sovereign flickered away like the flame 
 from the end of a burnt stick. As he un- 
 dressed that night, he realized that three 
 sovereigns and a few half-crowns which 
 he had in his pocket represented all his 
 available capital. 
 
 Cecil Warleigh looked haggard and 
 worn when he came into the breakfast- 
 room the next morning. An evil-looking 
 selection of letters had come by that 
 morning's post, most of them he had left 
 unopened, but the half-concealed venom 
 about one envelope fascinated him, and 
 he opened it to find, as he expected, the
 
 60 
 
 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 missive of a money-lender who evidently 
 meant mischief. 
 
 " Well," he thought, " it was perhaps 
 just as well that they had come ; he 
 would have it out with Jack at once, and 
 see what he was willing to do for him." 
 
 " You're beginning your career just as 
 I am finishing mine. Another week or 
 two will see the last of me in England," 
 Cecil said as he crumpled up the letter 
 and bill, throwing them into the fire. 
 " I'm dead broke — I should have been all 
 right only they scratched Marmora for the ' 
 Cambridgeshire, on the morning of the 
 race, when she was at sixes ; I'd taken on 
 tens, and I was going to ' lay off,' when 
 the first thing I hear in the morning is 
 that she had broken down." This ex- 
 planation was made by way of an excuse, 
 for Cecil was by no means sure that his 
 nephew might not be taken rather aback 
 at the notion of his incurring debts of 
 honour when he had no funds to meet 
 them with. Jack, however, was so 
 pleased that he could help Cecil, that 
 he did not give the question of how he 
 had got into debt much consideration. 
 
 " Remember I am ■ Head of the family,' 
 and if I can be of any use, I am only too 
 glad. I suppose George would have done 
 something, if he had been alive ? "
 
 A NIGHT AND A M0BNING. 61 
 
 "Well, yes, I suppose he would," 
 agreed Cecil, who was by no means so 
 certain of it in his own mind. " But he 
 would have made an awful bother about 
 it, and not taken it as you do. You are 
 awfully good, and I am not likely to 
 forget you have saved me from disgrace, 
 perhaps utter ruin." 
 
 Then Jack said, as he was going to see 
 the family lawyer that morning, he'd 
 speak to him about raising the money. 
 Then they went into figures ; Cecil 
 tentatively naming a sum, as the probable 
 amount of his indebtedness, which, though 
 it amounted to little more than half of 
 what he really owed, somewhat surprised 
 the nephew. Twenty-four hours before 
 he had felt wretched because he owed 
 about a hundred at Cambridge, now he 
 was talking about paying thousands for 
 his uncle. 
 
 " Don't know that I have ever thought 
 about it before, but it seems to me to be 
 a bit hard that the elder brothers should 
 have thousands a year, and the younger 
 brother not as many hundreds. I don't 
 say it's not all right, and I know it is the 
 law of entail that keeps properties to- 
 gether and makes England what she is, 
 and all that sort of thing ; but it does 
 seem a little hard," said Jack simply.
 
 62 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 " "Well, my boy, it's very good of you 
 to look at it like that, most elder sons 
 think differently, and I don't know that I 
 have much cause to grumble. It's a 
 deuced deal better to be the son of a 
 man with a landed estate, even if one is 
 only a younger son, than the son of a 
 man who never had a rap. And that's 
 what it would have been, I suppose, if 
 the land had always been cut up and 
 divided. There have been a good many 
 Warleighs who would have had their cut 
 in at the property before our time. Of 
 course it would have suited my book all 
 the better if you'd been my niece instead 
 of my nephew, old fellow, but I can't 
 quarrel with you for that, at least I 
 should be a fool if I did," Cecil answered, 
 in that bright, pleasant manner of his, 
 that had helped so much to make him so 
 generally popular. 
 
 Jack Warleigh thought what a good 
 fellow his uncle was. 
 
 Cecil Warleigh congratulated himself 
 upon the " change for the better " in the 
 headship of his family. 
 
 " You'll find old Grimshaw, the lawyer, 
 rather a dried-up sort of old chap. I 
 never could get on with him," said Cecil, 
 and he spoke from his heart, for he had 
 had more than one interview with the 
 lawyer on the subject of money.
 
 A NIGHT AND A MOENING. 63 
 
 Just then a visitor was shown into the 
 room. He was a man probably of about 
 fifty years of age, but he had a youthful 
 look about him, though his hair and 
 moustache were quite white. 
 
 " I knew your father very well. We 
 were great friends some thirty years 
 ago," he said, as he shook hands with 
 Jack, after he had been introduced as 
 General Cottingham. Then, after having 
 said a word or two about the wreck and 
 Sir George Warleigh's death, he changed 
 the conversation and began to chat about 
 Newmarket. 
 
 " It's been a bad week for a good many 
 of them. It finished young Flutterby. 
 His horses are all to be sold, I hear," 
 said the General. 
 
 " There are two or three of them that 
 I wouldn't mind buying. He has got the 
 only two steeplechase horses in training, 
 in my opinion, and one or two of his two- 
 year-olds are very smart," said Cecil, 
 and then he looked thoughtfully at Jack 
 for a minute or two. " Why shouldn't 
 you buy them ? If one of 'em isn't the 
 winner of a Grand National, I'm much 
 mistaken," he continued. 
 
 " Ah ! I'm afraid you'll find him a very 
 dangerous adviser, he knows everything, 
 but somehow always comes to grief," 
 said the General.
 
 64 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 " I think you'll admit when I have 
 ridden a horse — and I have ridden both 
 of Flutterby's — I know something about 
 them," put in Cecil. 
 
 " Well, Cecil," said the General, after 
 Jack had taken his departure, " how 
 about Newmarket ? Some kind friends 
 are wondering whether your account will 
 be settled next Monday ? " 
 
 " That is one's friends all over ; but 
 they'll find themselves wrong this time," 
 answered Cecil Warleigh pleasantly 
 enough, " I don't mind telling you," he 
 said, " that I should have been in rather 
 a tight place, if it hadn't been for that 
 youngster who has just gone out. He 
 has behaved like a brick about it." 
 
 " All's well, that ends well, I suppose ; 
 but if the Sea Mew hadn't gone down ? 
 A defaulter is rather an ugly-sounding 
 name. Take my advice, and let this be 
 a warning to you, though I don't want to 
 preach." 
 
 " I was twelve hundred to the bad, but 
 plenty of fellows owe the bookmakers 
 twice that amount." 
 
 " I daresay there are some book- 
 makers who would be glad enough to let 
 you owe them more than that. Steeple- 
 chasing isn't what it was. Still, a man 
 who rides as many favourites as you do,
 
 A NIGHT AND A MOKNING. 65 
 
 in the course of a winter, might do 'em a 
 pretty good turn. I saw poor old Flamby 
 to-day, he borrowed a few shillings from 
 me. There was never much harm in poor 
 Flamby, but see what he has come to." 
 
 " You're right, General, he seemed to 
 go wrong all at once. Took to riding for 
 the biggest gang of thieves on the turf, 
 and being hand and glove with 'em in all 
 their robberies." 
 
 " He began by owing money in the 
 ring, though," said the General, un- 
 pleasantly harking back to the subject. 
 The General was the only man who ever 
 ventured to give Cecil Warleigh advice. 
 Cecil was one of the most popular men in 
 the service, though perhaps he was liked a 
 little better out of his regiment than in it. 
 
 General Cottingham, however, who had 
 been Colonel of his regiment, was the 
 best friend he had. He knew him better 
 than other men did, and had formed an 
 estimate of his character which was less 
 flattering than that generally current. 
 For all that, he was indulgent to the 
 faults he saw so clearly. It was his 
 custom to measure conduct by what he 
 felt he might do himself, under certain 
 circumstances, and, looking back, he could 
 remember very few occasions when he 
 had not yielded to temptation. He had 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 a pleasantly cynical toleration which as- 
 sisted him in finding out the weak points 
 in a man's character, and made him a 
 model confessor, never being too shocked 
 to give excellent advice. 
 
 "No man can say anything against 
 me," Cecil answered, without showing any 
 resentment. 
 
 "No, I believe you, and I hope they 
 never will, but you for the future take my 
 advice, and do not back 3 r our ill-luck so 
 wildly, when you're having a bad race- 
 meeting. That young fellow who has 
 just gone out may be a very good sort of 
 youngster, but sooner or later — rather 
 sooner than later — he will get tired of 
 settling your debts. There are plenty of 
 good fellows with properties, but there 
 isn't one of them, that I know, who 
 shares with any of his impecunious rela- 
 tives." 
 
 " Let's change the subject, General, 
 and talk of something pleasanter, what 
 do you think of the Liverpool Cup ? " 
 
 " Well, I'm afraid I must be off," said 
 the General, " but if you are not better 
 or worse employed this evening, come 
 and dine, and bring your nephew, and 
 we'll have a look over the entries."
 
 67 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 JACK WARLEIGH BEGINS TO LIVE. 
 
 At Lincoln's Inn, Jack Warleigh, after he 
 had heard all the details of the loss of the 
 Sea Mew, and the arrangements which 
 had been made for the funerals of Sir 
 George and his sons, went into the 
 question of paying Cecil's debts. 
 
 Old G-rimshaw, the lawyer, looked un- 
 commonly dry when he heard this 
 suggestion. " It is not my business, 
 perhaps, to give you advice as to how 
 you should spend your money, Sir John," 
 he remarked, " but I think I ought to tell 
 you that the property won't stand too 
 much of that sort of thing. It is not 
 what it was. Six thousand a year is 
 nearer the figure than ten thousand, 
 nowadays ; and Captain Warleigh," here 
 the old lawyer hesitated, and looked 
 lovingly at the Warleigh deed boxes on 
 his shelves. 
 
 " I'm sure my uncle is a very good 
 fellow," put in Jack. 
 ¥ 2
 
 68 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 " I believe that Captain Warleigh is a 
 perfectly charming young man ; but one 
 way or another he has spent more money 
 on his amusements than would have been 
 prudent if he had been an elder son. His 
 father paid his debts again and again, 
 and left him all he could when he died. 
 He has had a fair share out of the estates," 
 and again the old man's eyes wandered to 
 the tin boxes, which probably contained 
 documentary evidence of Cecil's doings. 
 
 Jack Warleigh troubled himself very 
 little about the encumbrances on the 
 estates. He was only twenty-one, and 
 had owned the property but twenty-four 
 hours. 
 
 " Well, the money must be forthcoming, 
 somehow or the other," said Jack, " for I 
 promised Cecil to get it for him ; and for 
 the future, I think something ought to be 
 settled. What will he do for money ? " 
 
 " Pretty much the same as other 
 people do, who have spent all they had. 
 Still, perhaps it would be cheaper in the 
 end if you, once for all, did whatever 
 you are going to do. There is no end to 
 paying debts," answered Mr. Grrimshaw, 
 and then added that the money would be 
 forthcoming. But he took care to show 
 by his manner that he thoroughly dis- 
 approved of the proceeding.
 
 JACK WAELEIGH BEGINS TO LIVE. 69 
 
 "It is no good saying anything, Jack, 
 but you must know how I feel. I shan't 
 forget your generosity," said Cecil, when 
 they met in the evening, ready to start for 
 General Cottingham's. Undoubtedly he 
 did feel grateful. If there had to be 
 some one standing in his light, there 
 certainly could not be a better fellow for 
 the position than Jack. 
 
 " Is there a Mrs. Cottingham ? " asked 
 Jack, as they were driven down to Ken- 
 sington in a hansom. 
 
 "No, she died years ago. She was a 
 Miss Kate Clifford, a celebrated actress 
 Cottingham ran away with, and married 
 her after she was divorced. He behaved 
 well enough about it, in a way ; but it 
 caused a quarrel with his people, and 
 spoilt his career, for a black mark against 
 one's name helps no one. And this, to a 
 certain extent, prevented him getting on 
 in the service, beyond commanding the 
 regiment." 
 
 " And what is the daughter like ? " 
 
 " Oh, she's about twenty-three, but I 
 have not seen her for three years, and 
 we shall both see her in five minutes," 
 said Cecil. 
 
 A tall, slight girl, with a mass of dark 
 wavy hair, a singularly colourless face, 
 with rather a large nose, a finely shaped
 
 70 JACK WAKLEIGH. 
 
 and delicately cut mouth, was the first 
 impression Jack formed of Kate Cotting- 
 ham. He noticed also the long and well- 
 shaped hand she held out to him, as also 
 a somewhat repellent manner, as she 
 shook hands with Cecil Warleigh. He 
 found himself talking a good deal to her, 
 at dinner and afterwards, while Cecil 
 chatted with the General about soldiering, 
 racing, and hunting. 
 
 They had sat down to dinner at about 
 half-past-eight, so the evening was not a 
 long one, but before it was over, Jack 
 had learned to know those blue-grey eyes, 
 that now and again from under their long 
 lashes would sparkle with fun and mis- 
 chief, though when in repose there was a 
 sad, yearning expression in them. Once, 
 when she was singing at the piano, and 
 Cecil was leaning over her, talking, Jack 
 thought they looked hard and reckless ; 
 but he forgot the impression so soon as 
 she began to talk with him again. She had 
 none of that bright beauty that dazzles 
 and charms at the first glance ; hers 
 was a face you might not be struck by, 
 but if you tried to read it, you would find 
 it haunting you. 
 
 Jack had seldom met with any one to 
 whom he could talk so easily. He told 
 her a good deal about himself, and
 
 JACK WAELEIGH BEGINS TO LITE. 71 
 
 described how the news of his cousin's 
 death had come to him. 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " he was saying, " when 
 I first heard of the accident, I thought 
 how sad and terrible it was ; and now I 
 only seem to think of the difference it 
 makes to me. I wonder if I heard that 
 it was a mistake, and that he had not 
 been drowned, whether I should be sorry 
 or glad ? " 
 
 " The most we can do is not to wish 
 people dead, in such cases ; I met him 
 once or twice, but we never got on to- 
 gether. His kind of man never likes me 
 much, I think," was Miss Cottingham's 
 remark. " I thought him rather a muff." 
 
 " Poor George Warleigh gave me just 
 that impression. But what sort of people 
 do you mean don't like you ? " 
 
 " Very good, respectable people. You 
 see, they think my existence a mistake, 
 and my bringing up an outrage. I 
 suppose it is not very conventional ; I was 
 left to run wild about the barracks, with 
 no one to look after me ; but, after all, I 
 did not get into such very great mischief. 
 Tell me, how long have you known Captain 
 Warleigh ? I do not remember that he 
 ever talked of you." 
 
 " I suppose not, I only met him once 
 before yesterday. That was when I was
 
 72 JACK WARLE1GH. 
 
 at school ; his regiment came through 
 Fetchester, but from that day I've 
 thought him the finest fellow in the 
 world." 
 
 " Yes," she replied, " I suppose as a 
 boy you would think so. One loses one's 
 enthusiasm as one gets older." For a 
 second her eyes were fixed on Cecil, who 
 was talking to her father. Then she 
 changed the conversation to some other 
 subject. 
 
 Uncle and nephew walked back to St. 
 James's in silence. 
 
 Jack's thoughts wandered back to old 
 days, and then came round to Kate 
 Cottingham's blue-grey eyes. He had 
 never lived until that day, he thought. 
 
 " Grey eyes go to Paradise," he said, re- 
 peating aloud a French phrase which he 
 had read somewhere in a novel. His accent 
 showed a classical education, and perhaps 
 on that account Cecil understood it all the 
 easier. 
 
 " Eh, do they ! well, they have sent a 
 good many men to the other place," he 
 interrupted, and Jack blushed and looked 
 confused at being overheard. 
 
 That night as they smoked, before 
 going to bed, Cecil was singularly taciturn, 
 and helped himself more liberally than 
 was his wont to whiskey.
 
 73 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 MR. PARADINE DROPS HIS CANE- 
 
 From year to year, little enough happens 
 in a sleepy old town like Fetchester ; boys 
 leave the school, and others take their 
 places, and follow in their footsteps. 
 Ideas about education change, but for all 
 that, boys grow up into much the same 
 sort of men, with much the same sort of 
 vices and virtues which distinguished 
 their fathers, who had not the advantage 
 of being educated by masters of the modern 
 school, to whom there has been given a 
 revelation as to boy nature. 
 
 At Fetchester, interest centres round 
 what Mr. Chadband calls the human boy ; 
 the parents who have come to the place 
 for his schooling, being mere appendages, 
 as are the healthy friends of invalids at 
 a German Spa. Conversation turns on 
 Bobby's canings, and Billy's prizes, on 
 the headmaster's jokes, and the junior 
 master's eccentricities. They talk ' boy '
 
 74 jack waeleigl:. 
 
 at Fetchester, as they talk ' horse ' at 
 Newmarket ; the schoolmaster being 
 looked up to with awe and reverence, 
 even by mature human beings. 
 
 But in Fetchester, as elsewhere, there 
 come eras of change, and such a time 
 was preceded by two events ; one of 
 which was discussed eagerly, for its 
 personal interest, though it did not affect 
 the town, or its people. The other event 
 seemed to divide ancient Fetchester 
 history from modern. 
 
 The first was Jack Warleigh's suc- 
 cession to the family estates and 
 honours. Fetchester had plenty to say 
 about it, taking a great interest in the 
 future of the gentle widow lady and her 
 son. There was much debate as to 
 whether she would go away and live at 
 Warleigh, her son's house, or stay on 
 at Fetchester, and people who hardly 
 knew her by sight discussed the subject, 
 as local news is discussed in such a place. 
 To the disgust of superior people, who 
 love to preach to their fellow-men an 
 endless sermon about themselves and 
 their opinions, and boast that they take 
 no interest in petty personal gossip, Mrs. 
 Warleigh was unwilling to leave 
 Fetchester. The place was endeared to 
 her by almost all the tender memories of
 
 AIR. PABADINE DROPS HIS CANE. 75 
 
 her life. Its quiet had helped to soothe 
 the sorrows of her widowhood. Warleigh 
 had been her husband's old home, but 
 she had never set foot in the house. It 
 was at Fetchester that she first saw him, 
 and it was at Fetchester that she came 
 back after his death. So, when the 
 change came in her son's fortune, she did 
 not give up the little house they had 
 always lived in, but still kept it as her 
 home, though she consented to spend a 
 good many months of the year at War- 
 leigh. 
 
 Nelly Paradine, when she heard of the 
 change in Jack's life, had a very heavy 
 heart. Some people noticed her looking 
 out of spirits, and those who were ill- 
 natured, said she was annoyed to think 
 how badly she had played her cards. 
 
 To tell the truth, she never thought 
 once of having missed becoming the 
 mistress of Warleigh Hall ; but it seemed 
 to her that the determination she had 
 formed a few clays before to beg Jack's 
 forgiveness must be put away for ever, 
 she could not make up her quarrel now. 
 
 Another Fetchester event happened 
 some ten weeks after the great change 
 in Jack Warleigh's fortunes. An after- 
 noon came that Fetchester boys who 
 were in Mr. Paradme's class will not
 
 76 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 forget. The old master had been un- 
 usually soft and gentle that day. It now 
 and then was his custom to illustrate the 
 classical author that happened to be the 
 subject of the lesson, by bringing out 
 from his desk some well-worn volume of 
 English poetry and reading lines from 
 his favourite authors that dealt with 
 the same ideas. Some of the boys learnt 
 from those readings a love of good 
 English literature. The idle ones 
 rejoiced greatly when they saw those 
 books come out, for they hoped that the 
 cane would rest, and a blessed calm take 
 the place of that stormy half hour when 
 the boys at the bottom of the class had 
 to try their hands at parsing. That day 
 he had read from Pope for some time, 
 but he seemed to get tired, and, to the 
 dismay of the idle ones of the class, shut 
 up his book, and determined to go on 
 with the construing of Virgil. Bolderson, 
 a boy who sat some ten places from the 
 bottom of the class, was set to construe, 
 and the boys who sat below him pre- 
 pared themselves for the fray. Bolder- 
 son would give them no chance. He was 
 a boy of colossal ignorance, and would 
 fail, probably, to construe one word, and 
 what he missed would be passed down 
 the class, and those below him would
 
 ME. PARADINE DROPS HIS CANE. 77 
 
 have the chance of correcting his 
 blunders. But the boys below him 
 desired no opportunity for display, they 
 were perfectly content with their places, 
 and only asked to be let alone. Besides 
 they knew but little more than the un- 
 happy Bolderson, and believed that they 
 were destined to share his ignominy, and, 
 what was of more account to them, his 
 punishment. Bolderson also would take 
 shots, and his shots had a peculiarly 
 galling effect upon the scholarly ear of 
 Mr. Paradine. That day he read some 
 half-dozen lines of Latin, making one or 
 two false quantities; they did not, however, 
 arouse the master's ire, he had leaned 
 back in his chair and thrown a handker- 
 chief over his eyes, and had let his cane 
 drop on to the floor. The unhappy boy, 
 for a second or two, stared blankly at the 
 Latin lines he had read, and then dashed 
 wildly at them. The boys at the top of 
 the class tittered a little at the rendering 
 of those lines, for which Bolderson, who 
 was a heavy-fisted boy, scowled ven- 
 geance. His translation became more 
 and more wild, and all waited for the 
 outburst. But no sound came from Mr. 
 Paradine. Bolderson looked at the 
 master warily, and his voice subsided 
 into a hum, then ceased altogether, and
 
 78 JACK WARLEIGIJ. 
 
 lie stole back to his seat. The class at 
 first kept silence. The maxim that tells 
 one to "let sleeping dogs lie" seemed to 
 apply. Then some of the bolder spirits 
 began to move. One of them pre- 
 tended to throw a book at the master, 
 another to play with his cane. Bolderson, 
 who had always a peculiar reading of a 
 joke, crept up to where one of the boys who 
 had laughed at him sat, and stuck a steel 
 pen into him. The boy-cried out sharply, 
 Out his cry did not wake up Mr. Paradine. 
 Then gradually the boys began to realize 
 that something was wrong. The grins 
 faded away from their faces, and they 
 became awe-struck and frightened. One 
 of them went to a master in the next room, 
 he came, and after he had looked at the 
 figure in the chair, at once dismissed the 
 class. The boys went away quietly and 
 gravely, and spoke to each other with 
 bated breath. A doctor was sent for, but 
 before he arrived most of the boys knew 
 that they had seen death. Men of the 
 modern school, who talk new-fangled non- 
 sense about corporal punishment, would 
 have been surprised to have heard how 
 the boys talked of their good old friend, 
 whose voice, often enough raised angrily, 
 they had heard for the last time. There 
 was a rugged kindliness and humour that
 
 Mil. PAEADINE DROPS HIS CANE. 79 
 
 made them like him ; and perhaps some 
 of those who seemed to have the kind- 
 liest memory of him were high-spirited 
 idle boys who had most often been his 
 subjects. 
 
 Nelly Paradine had always been the 
 sunshine of her father's life, and at first 
 she was numb with grief. But she tele- 
 graphed at once to Joe at Cambridge, and 
 by searching among papers, discovered an 
 address that would probably in time find 
 out Sam the outcast. The two brothers, 
 who had not seen each other since Joe 
 was a boy of fifteen, met again. Joe, the 
 Fellow of Cambridge, eyed his elder brother 
 with considerable mistrust, and it was 
 with the greatest difficulty that Sam could 
 borrow a few shillings from him, so that 
 he could make stealthy visits to the public 
 houses he used in the old days, to make 
 inquiries as to the welfare of the bygone 
 race of barmaids. 
 
 Sam had not been at Fetchester for 
 years, and he remembered what a very 
 dashing youngster he was, in those past 
 days, with what awe the boys of the school, 
 and the young men at the " Swan," his 
 old play-fellows, then regarded him. He 
 did not spend much time there, in the 
 days of his splendour ; for Fetchester was 
 dull then, and besides, when he was at
 
 80 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 home lie somehow had felt most the 
 sense of impending disaster, which, reck- 
 less as he was, was never wholly absent 
 from him. After his smash he had spent 
 some weeks there, and dreary enough 
 they were. But he was a swell in those 
 days, though a swell under a cloud. JSTow 
 it was different ; still, he wore his bat- 
 tered tall hat jauntily, arid made the best 
 of the obviously unkind present. He was 
 not without remorse, for he knew that his 
 escapades had broken his father's life and 
 most likely helped to cut it short. His 
 brother Joe, who was some three years 
 his junior, and had once upon a time felt 
 very jealous of him, rather enjoyed the 
 position, during the few sad days before 
 the funeral, of being able to lecture his 
 elder brother. Sam took the lecturing 
 meekly enough. 
 
 " After all, Joe, there's not much use in 
 dwelling upon it all. Let the dead past 
 bury its dead. Let us look at things as 
 they are. You are in comfort and af- 
 fluence. Now, I am not going to ask you 
 for anything for myself, but what are we 
 going to do for Nelly ? I don't suppose 
 the poor old governor has left anything." 
 
 " You have good reason to know that, 
 Samuel, and to know what happened to 
 the savings of his life-time."
 
 MR. PARADINE DROPS HIS CANE. 81 
 
 (i Perhaps I have, Joe, but that doesn't 
 answer the question. What are we going 
 to do for Nelly ? " 
 
 " TFe," repeated Joe with an unpleasant 
 emphasis, " what do you propose doing ? " 
 
 " Well, when things look up a bit, I in- 
 tend to see she doesn't want. At present 
 the question rests with you, what can 
 you give her ? " 
 
 " I have given her advice. I have told 
 her that circumstanced as she is, she will 
 be far happier earning her own living 
 and being independent. Lots of girls, 
 nowadays, have to do it, and it really is 
 no hardship at all for her." 
 
 " If you had my experience, you would 
 know that it is a hard world to have to 
 fight against. Advice, Joseph, my boy ; 
 however good it is, in this case is worth 
 about just what it costs to give it. If 
 you won't do anything for her, she'll have 
 to earn her living," said Sam. 
 
 When the funeral was over, it was 
 found that there was nothing left but a 
 few debts. The day after it, Nelly re- 
 ceived a visit from Mrs. Warleigh, who, 
 when she heard of her trouble, forgot the 
 unkindness between them. Nelly must 
 " come and live with her. She was all by 
 herself, a great deal too much so, and she 
 wanted a companion." 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 Mrs. Warleigh's friendship seemed 
 sweeter than ever it had been ; but Nelly 
 recognized at once that the offer could 
 not be accepted. She could not live in 
 Jack Warleigh's house, or constantly see 
 him, as she would be bound to do, if she 
 lived with his mother. So the refuge 
 which the widow had offered was lost to 
 her. It was finally arranged that she 
 was to stay with some friends who lived 
 in the town, until she could procure a 
 situation as governess or companion. 
 Joseph, her brother, gave her more 
 advice, and then hurried back to 
 Cambridge, anxious to get away from 
 sorrow and poor relations. Sam sighed 
 at having to leave free lodgings and 
 regular meals. 
 
 " Nelly," he said, as he took leave of 
 his sister, and as he spoke he jingled 
 together in his pocket the two sovereigns 
 which with great difficulty he had 
 managed to extract from his brother, 
 " Joe is a mean beggar. One can't 
 expect much from a Cambridge small- 
 college man — Sam felt the dignity of 
 having been ' sent down ' from Christ- 
 church — but though he is my brother, 
 I cannot help owning that Joe is, I should 
 say rather below than above the form of 
 his college. I never could get anything
 
 MR. PARADINE DROPS HIS CANE. 83 
 
 out of him — that is an old story — but he 
 ought to do something for you." 
 
 Nelly answered readily enough that 
 she did not wish Joe to do anything of the 
 kind ; and that she was anxious to fight 
 her own way in the world. 
 
 "Well, my dear," replied Sam, " I 
 hope you'll find the world a kinder one to 
 you than it has been to me. Things seem 
 to be looking up though, just now, and it 
 may be the time will come when I shall 
 be able to make a home for you." 
 
 Sam was one of those men whom mis- 
 fortune and poverty, somehow, seemed to 
 swell. Like Falstan 2 they " blew him 
 up ; " and in his new black clothes and 
 glossy hat, he really made quite an 
 imposing appearance. 
 
 " In the meantime, my dear," he con- 
 tinued, " the kindest thing I can do is to 
 keep out of your way." 
 
 Nelly did not build very much on that 
 rather remote future when Sam would be 
 of much assistance to her ; still she found 
 that she liked him, and that she thought 
 less of his wickedness and extravagance 
 than she used to in the days of his 
 splendour. 
 
 So Nelly went to stay with her friends, 
 and took to reading the advertisements in 
 the papers and generally doing her best 
 G 2
 
 84 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 to find something to do ; feeling the truth 
 of the advice tended to her by her brother 
 Joseph, that she would be wise not to be 
 too particular to begin with, as there 
 were so many other girls in her position. 
 
 In a month or two a new master was 
 appointed in place of Mr. Paradine — a 
 Mr. Meek, a young man who disapproved 
 of corporal punishment, and who had a 
 lot of brand-new maxims for the proper 
 treatment of his pupils. He seemed 
 to believe that boys had only just been 
 invented, that men before his time could 
 have had no opportunity of learning any- 
 thing about them. 
 
 The boys somehow despised him, know- 
 ing, with a boy's instinct, that he was a 
 muff, albeit a well-meaning one. Old 
 Par became a pleasant memory, and his 
 canings were looked back to as ex- 
 periences that it was creditable to have 
 undergone.
 
 85 
 
 CHAPTER 3X. 
 
 THE FETCHESTER HUNT STEEPLE-CHASES. 
 
 In the month of February, Fetchester 
 was divided into two factions. Those 
 who were opposed to, and those that were 
 in favour of, the steeple-chase meeting, 
 that was held some three miles from the 
 town, and had become an annual fixture. 
 The good folk of the little town took 
 sides, and wrangled over the question as 
 to whether or no steeple-chasing were a 
 pernicious and demoralizing sport, and 
 whether the meeting should be abolished 
 or supported : quite oblivious to the fact 
 that they had very little to do with it, one 
 way or the other. The large majority of 
 the townspeople were, however, in favour 
 of the meeting, and look upon it as one 
 of the red-letter days of their year. They 
 regard not the fact that Gallows Hill 
 farm is not an attractive spot on a chill 
 February day, nor do they pay much 
 heed to the warnings of the clergy of
 
 86 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 all denominations ; the Rev. Father 
 Latimer on this occasion, and on this 
 occasion only — holds out a hand as he 
 expresses it, to his dissenting brethren — ■ 
 and the Church of England parsons and 
 the local Stigginses unite, as in a labour 
 of love, to preach the evils of racing. 
 
 The meeting that was held some six- 
 teen months after Jack Warleigh came 
 into his property was doubly interesting 
 to some of the Fetchester people, from 
 the fact that he had lately purchased 
 several steeple-chasers, and was to 
 appear in the character of an owner for 
 the first time. Mr. Flutterby, whose 
 intention to sell his horses was reported 
 more than a year before, had managed 
 to last for another twelve months. 
 He had won the Grand National with his 
 horse the Crier, who beat Jack Sheppard 
 the favourite, much more easily than any 
 one knew, except Cecil Warleigh who 
 rode him. 
 
 The next season's flat-racing had 
 settled Mr. Flutterby, and after the 
 Liverpool Autumn races, his horses were 
 sold, and Sir John Warleigh became the 
 owner of Clovis and the Crier. They 
 were, so Cecil assured him, the two best 
 steeple-chasers in training ; and with 
 them, and several other useful horses
 
 THE FETCHESTEE HUNT STEEPLE-CHASES. 87 
 
 which Cecil had purchased for him, the 
 old prestige of Windmill Lodge as a 
 training establishment was likely to return 
 again. Tom Ring, the trainer, who had 
 his stalls almost empty for the two 
 years during which Sir G-eorge the 
 younger reigned at Warleigh, was in high 
 feather again. The lodge and stables, 
 which had grown somewhat out of re- 
 pair, were renovated, and in course of a 
 little time looked quite spick-and-span. 
 
 Jack had spent most of his time since 
 he came into his fortune rather sensibly 
 than otherwise, for he had gone back to 
 Cambridge and taken his degree. Down 
 at Warleigh he had already become 
 very popular. 
 
 The late baronet, whose untimely fate 
 had been duly deplored, was, every one 
 admitted, a very great loss. He was a 
 good Conservative, and no doubt had a 
 great career before him ; but there was 
 no denying that he was a wet blanket, and 
 his praiseworthy wish to be always in- 
 structing his fellow-men was the cause of 
 many a weary hour to his friends. Jack 
 Warleigh seemed to them to be much 
 better suited to ordinary every-day life. 
 He was fond of out-door amusements, 
 would, most likely, be ready to take the 
 hounds and entertain his neighbours.
 
 88 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 The fact that he was a bachelor, and, 
 according to all reports, perfectly free 
 from any engagement or entanglement, 
 naturally increased the interest with 
 which he was regarded. 
 
 People at Fetch ester took a great in- 
 terest in his doings. No longer were 
 those in the majority who talked of 
 him as one rapidly going to the dogs. 
 Had not he taken his degree at Cam- 
 bridge, which showed great industry and 
 determination on his part, and, after all, 
 what were the stories that they used to 
 shrug their shoulders at, but mere signs 
 of his vitality and natural high spirits. 
 
 " JSTow, by George ! he has the ball at 
 his feet, and has nothing to do but enjoy 
 himself," said old Major Chaffinch, when 
 at his family breakfast, table he read 
 that Jack had taken his degree. 
 
 " He will be able to do a great deal of 
 good," answered the elder of the young 
 Chaffinches, who was always trying to 
 graft a moral on to his old father's not 
 very edifying discourse. 
 
 " Well, I see he has bought Clovis and 
 the Crier, and he means to run the former 
 at our steeple-chase next week. It shall 
 carry a pound or two of my money, for 
 luck, and the sake of old times," continued 
 the Major.
 
 THE FETCHESTER HUNT STEEPLE-CHASES. 89 
 
 " Gambling — and all racing is gam- 
 bling — is a degrading vice, inexcusable 
 even in the young and rich," said the ex- 
 cellent young man, as he soberly ate his 
 bread and butter. "I'm afraid Warleigh 
 is likely to make but very little good use of 
 his fortune." 
 
 "A pound or two of your money, did 
 you say ? I did not know that you had 
 any money," was the pleasant remark 
 with which Mrs. Chaffinch greeted her 
 spouse's somewhat ill-timed burst of con- 
 fidence. She was a fat, heavy woman, 
 with a perpetual expression of martyrdom. 
 She did not speak often ; but when she 
 did, it was to the purpose. 
 
 For all that, old Chaffinch did turn up at 
 the steeple-chases, and took up his posi- 
 tion on the drag of the Loyal Lancers, 
 Avhose head-quaners were at Brilleton, the 
 big manufacturing town some twenty 
 miles away, and who had a detachment at 
 Fetchester. 
 
 Loamshire is a county of small land- 
 owners, good sportsmen and cheery, 
 pleasure-loving people, who support the 
 steeple-chases, and there were a goodly 
 array of carriages along the rails opposite 
 the Stand, from a good many of which the 
 soldiers' coach was regarded with special 
 interest, for Jack Warleigh had come
 
 90 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 over in it, with Cecil, to see the latter, 
 for the first time, ride in his colours — 
 the famous red and black stripes, which 
 in old Sir George's time were so celebrated 
 both across country and on the flat. 
 Such of the good people of Loamshire 
 who had never seen him before were 
 thoroughly well pleased with his appear- 
 ance. 
 
 " Yes, he is quite a nice-looking young 
 man ! " said Lady Shoddyton, wife of Mr. 
 Oldlands of Oldland, and widow of the 
 late Sir Thomas Shoddyton, Governor of 
 the Fly River Settlements, whose name 
 and title she retained, as she inspected 
 the officers' drag through her gold- 
 rimmed eye-glasses ; " and if he gets into 
 good hands will suit us very well. But 
 he looks weak, and I am afraid that his 
 uncle, Captain Warleigh, is not a good 
 companion for him. Who is that girl he 
 is talking to ? I don't know her. Where 
 does she come from ? That's the worst of 
 soldiers, they encourage a very doubtful 
 kind of society. Their wives are too often 
 objectionable." 
 
 " Look at that old cat staring at us," 
 said pretty Mrs. Burke, wife of Major 
 Dick Burke of the Lancers, to Kate Cot- 
 tingham, who had come down with her 
 father from London, and was the object of
 
 THE FETCHESTEE HUNT STEEPLE-CHASES. 91 
 
 Lady Shoddy ton's attention. " She 
 doesn't approve of either of us. The old 
 wretch hates every woman who has any 
 looks to boast of. Her one object in life 
 is to find husbands for her brood of nieces, 
 who she passes off on the innocent 
 squireens of Loamshire as girls of the 
 bluest blood. After they're married, 
 the husbands are introduced to her lady- 
 ship's brother, their father-in-law, a 
 decayed West Indian merchant, who 
 fuddles himself with rum, and whose 
 identity is kept a dead secret in the family 
 like the ghost of Bogie's Castle." 
 
 " She's a clever woman, my dear, and I 
 respect her. I wish I had her talent, I'd 
 sell a horse, when I had one to part with, 
 instead of giving it away, as I do," put in 
 Dick Burke, looking up from opening a 
 bottle of champagne. 
 
 " I wish you had, Dick," answered his 
 wife merrily. 
 
 " Yes, I'll give her her due, she is 
 clever. Cecil, why don't you make your 
 nephew go and swear allegiance ? " 
 
 " She's not over-fond of me, is her lady- 
 ship. Don't think she likes the regiment 
 either. We know too much for her," 
 answered Cecil Warleigh, who had come 
 across from the Stand to snatch a hurried 
 luncheon. He spoke lightly enough, but
 
 92 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 he felt rather out of temper, for he was 
 having a bad day ; and there was another 
 matter just then to annoy him. 
 
 An unaccustomed flush came across 
 Kate Cottingham's usually colourless face; 
 she felt angry with her friend Mrs. Burke 
 and the Lady of Oldlands. She was far 
 more sensitive to slights than many would 
 believe, who watched the bold way in which 
 she carried herself. Owing to the circum- 
 stances of her birth, she had to a certain 
 extent always found herself at war with 
 society. She had never known what it 
 was to be with womankind of her own 
 blood, who could protect and make her 
 feel on sure ground in society. That 
 vulgar woman in the carriage probably 
 would hear a whispered account of her 
 birth and parentage, which would increase 
 the insolence of her stare. 
 
 " Well, here's luck to the ' black and 
 red stripes,' " said Dick Burke, as he 
 held up a glass of champagne ; " may they 
 be to the fore as often as they used to be 
 in the old days, when they carried every- 
 thing before them across country. Ah ! 
 those were the palmy days of steeple- 
 chasing. There will never be another 
 one like old Sir George Warleigh's 
 Allegory, who won the Grand National 
 three years in succession. They don't 
 breed that class of horse nowadays."
 
 THE FETCBESTER HUNT STEEPLE-CHASES. 93 
 
 " Don't be too sure of that, Major 
 Burke, you'll admit that Tom Ring is a 
 pretty good judge as to how good a mare 
 Allegory was. Well, he tells me that I 
 have a better one in the Crier. Clovis 
 can't touch him, and yet I fancy you'll 
 see to-day that he is not a bad horse. 
 If I win to-day, the Crier's second 
 Grand National ought to be a certainty," 
 was Jack's prophetic answer. 
 
 " I am right glad to hear it, my boy, 
 both for your sake and the honour of the 
 regiment, for Cecil is going to ride, I 
 take it," then noticing the expression 
 with which Cecil was regarding Jack, he 
 continued, " come, old chap, you needn't 
 look so grumpy ; surely you won't grudge 
 us a little information from your stable ? 
 You surely wouldn't want to keep the 
 regiment from backing your mount ? " 
 
 " Don't remember that you were so 
 very anxious to see that we all had our 
 money on, when you won the Grand 
 Military last year," replied Cecil. 
 
 " 'Deed, I would have been though, if 
 I had thought that I should have done it. 
 Many's the time I've seen you boys win 
 your money, by one of my horses, and 
 been as pleased, as about the bit I got for 
 meself . No one in the regiment can say 
 that I don't tell 'em when to put their 
 money on me."
 
 91 JACK WAKLE1GH. 
 
 " No, Major, we can't," said a subaltern, 
 mournfully remembering past losses. 
 
 "Ah, Sir John, you'll find out it's 
 mighty little gratitude you get from the 
 public for keeping horses in training for 
 them to win their money on," said the 
 Major to Jack, " but take my word for it, 
 for all that, you won't be any the worse, 
 in the long run, for letting your friends 
 share in your good luck. Don't you 
 agree with me, Bamborough ? " 
 
 " Yaas, I think we're pretty much of a 
 mind, Major. One's pals have other 
 pals whom they tell, and they have 
 others, and so on ad infinitum. So when 
 I have a c good thing,' I take particular 
 care to tell my nearest and dearest just 
 what I want Tom, Dick, and Harry to 
 know. If you want to let any one at all 
 in, you must first let in your friends," 
 was Lord Bamborough' s rejoinder. 
 
 Lord Bamborough was a big, red, 
 bloated-looking young man, who was 
 staring somewhat malevolently out of his 
 prominent and bloodshot eyes at Jack 
 Warleigh. Among men who did not 
 know him very well, Lord Bamborough 
 had the reputation of making himself out 
 worse than he really was. 
 
 "Now let me drink success to your 
 colours. I hope you'll win to-day, and
 
 THE FETCHESTER HUNT STEEPLE-CHASES. 95 
 
 that you often will win," said KateCotting- 
 ham to Jack. " I shall never get tired 
 of going to race meetings, so long as I can 
 see them in front, and I mean to make 
 a small fortune by backing them," she 
 continued. 
 
 " Then you may be sure that I'll have 
 a lot more horses in training. I have 
 nothing but steeple-chasers now ; but 
 I'll buy some racers," said Jack, his face 
 lighting up with a pleasure he had never 
 experienced before. 
 
 " No," said Miss Cottingham, " promise 
 me you won't do that because of what 
 I was foolish enough to say. I know a 
 good deal about these things, and I know 
 how dangerous an amusement the turf is. 
 No, you must not do that. I like to see 
 my friends do well in other things besides 
 racing and sport. If I were you, I would 
 never be content until I had made a 
 career for myself. I would go into 
 politics and public life. Oh ! you men, 
 how lucky you are ! You can fight your 
 own way to the front. It seems that half 
 of you are not ambitious. Fancy not 
 being ambitious ! " 
 
 " Kate is a very strong-minded young 
 woman, and professes a very lofty con- 
 tempt for all us drones ; though I will 
 say this for her — that she has never
 
 96 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 become a senior wrangler, or a lady 
 doctor, or a lady agitator on her own 
 account," said General (Nottingham, 
 laughing. 
 
 " No, women only succeed in making 
 themselves ridiculous. I am not fond of 
 amusing other people by follies of that 
 sort. But for men, it is different. How- 
 ever, for the present I hope Clovis will 
 win to-day." 
 
 " That's unkind of you too, Miss 
 Cottingham, considering I ride Bellman 
 in the race. You won your money by 
 backing one of mine in the first race," 
 said Bamborough ; then continuing, " and 
 mind you, you are wrong too, for I am 
 going to win." 
 
 Lord Bamborough knew as much 
 about racing as most men ; and on the 
 flat he had the reputation of being one of 
 the cleverest owners on the turf. He had 
 one weakness that he would never admit. 
 He could not ride a race himself. As a 
 matter of fact, though, he had plenty of 
 pluck. He had not an ounce of judgment. 
 When the book-makers knew he was go- 
 ing to ride, the odds against his mount 
 always increased. 
 
 {< We had better get across to the 
 Stand," said Cecil, looking extremely 
 sulky. Then, as he climbed down from
 
 THE FETCHESTER HUNT STEEPLE-CHASES. 97 
 
 the drag, he whispered to Kate, " You're 
 making the running pretty strongly with 
 that youngster." She did not reply, but 
 a quiver, as of pain, shot across her 
 face, and turning round she began to talk 
 to Lord Bamboroueh. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 98 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE EETCHESTER HUNT OUP. 
 
 Never had a man, thought Cecil Warleigh, 
 better excuse than he had for feeling out 
 of temper. He had not backed Barn- 
 borough's horse for the first race ; as 
 past experience had made him register a 
 vow, never to have a penny on that 
 nobleman's mount. Then, in the second 
 race, a Military Stakes, for which he 
 thought he was a certainty, he had just 
 been beaten by a horse belonging to 
 Major Burke. The Major pretended to 
 be extremely surprised at having won the 
 race. 
 
 " I'm getting an old man now, Cecil 
 my boy, and shan't ride many more races, 
 let alone win 'em. Sure you wouldn't 
 grudge me a bit of luck like this ? " said 
 honest Dick Burke ; but there was a 
 sparkle in his eye, which told Cecil that 
 it had not been such a surprise to him, 
 and that he had won a good bit of money.
 
 THE EETCHESTER HUNT CUP. 99 
 
 It was a confoundedly unfriendly thing 
 keeping it so dark, and not letting him 
 know how good it was. 
 
 In the third race — thanks to a good 
 pair of glasses — he had seen the rider of 
 the favourite — which he had backed — 
 break a stirrup leather, and he was in 
 time to get a big bet on the second 
 favourite, for whom the race ought then 
 to have been a certainty, if it had not — 
 as it did the next minute — fallen at the 
 brook. Altogether he was thoroughly out 
 of temper. Never was he so convinced 
 of Jack's being altogether a mistake, a 
 person who never ought to have been in 
 the world at all. 
 
 It was, to a certain extent, a consolation 
 to have a definite grievance against him, 
 on which he could enlarge. 
 
 " What on earth makes you talk all 
 over the place, about what the Crier can 
 do ? We shall have the horse at some 
 absurd price for Liverpool. Upon my 
 word, it is sickening," said Cecil, speak- 
 ing more bitterly than he usually did. 
 
 " Surely there was no harm, telling the 
 men on the drag that I thought I had a 
 good chance. There was hardly any one 
 except the men of your regiment." 
 
 " Regiment ! what the deuce does that 
 matter ? Burke is about the keenest hand 
 h 2
 
 100 JACK WAELE1GH. 
 
 on the turf, and Bamborough has a horse 
 entered for the race, and yet you must 
 chatter away like a boy." 
 
 "Well, if I choose, I don't see why I 
 shouldn't let my friends know that I 
 think I have a good chance, I hate having 
 so much mystery about it." 
 
 " All right, tell every one you're bound 
 to win, and you'll find that no one will 
 thank you if you do win, and every one 
 will howl at you if you don't. But it's 
 your business, not mine, I suppose," 
 growled Cecil, who was now thoroughly 
 savage. 
 
 " Don't be riled, old fellow. I won't 
 talk so much in future," Jack said good- 
 humouredly, and Cecil, who began to feel 
 his kinsman was getting out of leading- 
 strings, and might perhaps with wisdom 
 be humoured, made a more pleasant 
 reply, saying Jack was too good a 
 fellow, and that on the turf he would find 
 wearing his heart on his sleeve rather a 
 mistake. As they passed into the enclo- 
 sure an incident happened which served 
 to illustrate Cecil's remarks, and gave him 
 further ground for complaint. 
 
 Lounging near the gate was a young 
 man dressed in a very baggy white driving 
 coat, with huge mother-of-pearl buttons. 
 On his head he wore — much on one side
 
 THE FETCHESTER HUNT CUP. 101 
 
 — avvery curly brimmed brown billycock 
 hat. The coat was thrown open, so as to 
 disclose a tremendously loud suit of checks, 
 and a heavy gold watch chain, which was 
 probably attracting the attention of the 
 swell mob. " Hullo, old chappie, you're 
 become a great swell since we last parted. 
 Do you remember that night in your rooms 
 in St. George's ? What a lark it was ! " 
 said the young gentleman, who was no 
 other than Jack's Cambridge acquaint- 
 ance, Mr. Raggles of Magdalen. 
 
 Jack remembered that once he had 
 rather an admiration for Raggles, who 
 was considered by his friends to be a very 
 knowing, dashing man-of-the-worldish 
 fellow. Either he or Jack had altered a 
 great deal ; for now Raggles seemed bad 
 form and noisy. 
 
 " I say, is your horse going to win 
 the Cup ? Good enough for me to back, 
 eh ? And what about the Crier for 
 Liverpool ? " 
 
 " I think he'll win, but am not very sure 
 about it. The Crier is a good bit the better 
 of the two, and ought to win easily at Liver- 
 pool, unless we've made a big mistake." 
 
 " By Jove ! Jack, you're too bad," said 
 Cecil, as Mr. Raggles walked away with 
 two men to whom he had been talking 
 before he had seen Jack.
 
 102 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 " He's an old college friend," Jack ex- 
 plained to Cecil. 
 
 " Then all I can say is, that your col- 
 lege friend has managed to pick up two of 
 the biggest scoundrels on the turf, to 
 associate with. On my word they turn 
 out some fine specimens of the genus fool 
 at the Universities," muttered Cecil to him- 
 self. " Now I have no doubt that young 
 ass there, thinks it no end of a fine thing 
 to know those two fellows ; either of them 
 would pick his pocket, and one of whom 
 would cut his throat if it suited his pur- 
 pose. " Well, he looks about good enough 
 for his pals, I will say that for him." 
 
 " Poor old R aggies, he is not a bad 
 fellow, rather loud and noisy, perhaps ; 
 he doesn't seem to have improved much 
 since he left Cambridge, but he is a good- 
 hearted fellow enough." 
 
 " No reason why you should give him a 
 report of your stable, and your chances of 
 winning to-day, to tell to those precious 
 friends of his." 
 
 " "Well, who are they, that to talk to 
 them is so disgraceful?" queried Jack, 
 looking at the two men to whom Raggles 
 was talking. One of them was of some- 
 what striking appearance. He stood an 
 inch or two over six feet, but did not look his 
 height ; he was both broad-shouldered and
 
 THE EETCHESTEE HUNT CUP. 103 
 
 deep-chested. He seemed to be well on in 
 middle age, but his black beard and mous- 
 tache had very little grey in them. He 
 probably would have been good-looking, 
 were it not that his nose had been 
 smashed in, so as to disfigure his face 
 and give it a somewhat sinister expres- 
 sion. He wore a loose suit of blue mate- 
 rial, a red handkerchief loosely knotted 
 round his throat, and a brown felt hat. 
 His watch-chain was heavy and looked 
 costly, his fingers were covered with dia- 
 monds, suggesting that he understood 
 the advantage of carrying wealth in its 
 most portable shape. There was a bri- 
 gand-like look about the man, which 
 contrasted with the air of his companion, 
 who had a fresh complexioned face, fat 
 cheeks, small blue eyes and light straw- 
 coloured whiskers. His plump figure was 
 dressed in a black coat, and pepper-and- 
 salt trousers. He looked the essence of 
 sleek respectability. 
 
 " Why, the big man calls himself 
 Beamish, Colonel Beamish, I daresay ; he 
 has as much title to his military rank as 
 he has to his surname. The other is 
 that infernal thief Kit Lukes the lawyer. 
 Beamish professes to be a returned colo- 
 nist, who has come home with a large 
 fortune. He owns a few horses and bets
 
 104 JACK WABLEIGH. 
 
 a good deal, I believe, but the book-makers 
 have not got much of that fortune of his ; 
 and it is my opinion that no one would be 
 much the richer for getting the whole of 
 it. Lukes is a sort of racing partner of 
 Beamish. He is a lawyer, who has a lot 
 of shady clients, betting men and low 
 money-lenders, but no one more shady 
 than himself. See, your friend is evidently 
 imparting your information to them, for 
 they are looking at us." 
 
 "But everyone knows, by this time, 
 that I am confident of winning the Liver- 
 pool with the Crier, their knowing it, 
 cannot prevent its winning." 
 
 " Don't know so much about that," said 
 Cecil. 
 
 The two subjects of Cecil's not very 
 complimentary description, seemed to be 
 as interested in Jack as he -was in them. 
 
 " Sir John Warleigh, is he ? What 
 relation will he be to Captain Warleigh 
 — I don't mean that one yonder — but 
 Warleigh who was in the Lancers, some 
 five and twenty years ago, and was killed 
 in the Crimea ? " asked Beamish. 
 
 Mr. Lukes replied that the Captain 
 Warleigh he referred to must have been 
 Jack's father, and he went on to explain 
 how Jack came into the baronetcy. 
 
 " Well, he is not unlike Jack Warleigh
 
 THE EETCHESTER HUNT CUP. 1C5 
 
 of the Loyal Lancers either. I should 
 have spotted him for a Warleigh." 
 
 " So you knew Sir John's father, did 
 you Colonel ? Ah, you would be con- 
 temporaries in the army," asked Mr. 
 Lukes, with a curious twinkle in his small 
 blue eyes. 
 
 " Yes, we were, and I knew him very 
 well," answered Beamish, without paying 
 much attention, for a second or two, to 
 the insult that was half expressed in the 
 other's tone. 
 
 " Let's see, that must have been before 
 you left England, for — where was it you 
 made your fortune ? " 
 
 " Where one learned not to stand 
 insolence from a shark of a lawyer ; and 
 see here, Mr. Lukes, if I want to talk to 
 you about old times, I start in without 
 troubling you to pump me," growled 
 Beamish. 
 
 " Well, we have plenty to talk about. 
 I wonder how much there is in what that 
 young fool Haggles told us, about them be- 
 ing so confident of winning at Liverpool 
 with the Crier." 
 
 " Looks like it, for I saw Sir John take 
 a thousand to four hundred about it, just 
 now. Yes, he is very like his father, is 
 that youngster, but a bit greener than he 
 was. Any one seems to be welcome to
 
 106 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 know all he can tell 'em. about his horses. 
 It almost makes me wonder whether it 
 mayn't be a plant after all, and he isn't a 
 bit wider awake than every one takes 
 him to be." 
 
 " No, he is not that sort ; and Captain 
 Warleigh's face showed what he thought 
 of his opening his mouth as he did. By 
 the way — talking of young fools, did you 
 put Raggles on to Jack Sheppard ? " 
 
 " Yes, he is on fifty, starting price. If 
 he wins, may be it'll come back ; and if he 
 loses, it won't hurt us. Ah ! there go the 
 numbers." 
 
 " Confound 'em, they're backing our 
 horse," said Mr. Lukes, as he heard the 
 book-maker shouting out, all round. 
 " Well, they shall have a run for their 
 money for once ; and if they win, they'll 
 back it again for Liverpool. They don't 
 know that we — like Sir John — have a 
 second string to our bow." 
 
 "Ay, and one that would win — nineteen 
 years out of twenty," rejoined the Colonel, 
 and then the pair betook themselves to 
 the paddock to say a word or two to the 
 jockey who was to ride their horse, Jack 
 Sheppard. 
 
 Jack Sheppard and Clovis were about 
 equal favourites, the public perhaps 
 rather fancying the former. Cecil War-
 
 THE FETCHESTER HUNT CUP. 107 
 
 leigh, however, felt extremely confident. 
 His judgment was not often at fault about 
 a horse he had once ridden, and at the 
 last moment, before weighing for the race, 
 he commissioned a book-maker to back 
 his mount for five hundred pounds. 
 
 " There goes Clovis with the Captain 
 up, and a right good 'un he is too. If the 
 Crier is so much better than he is, as they 
 say, he will be a thorn in our sides at 
 Liverpool," said Mr. Lukes, when he saw 
 Cecil and Clovis come on to the course. 
 
 " There goes Lord Bamborough on 
 Bellman. He has backed his mount as 
 usual, I expect, for they won't lay more 
 than sixes against it. Well, there ain't 
 no accounting for taste ; but if I were a 
 lord with twelve thousand a year, I'd set 
 some one else to ride for me, and not risk 
 my noble neck and — there's little Jack ! " 
 
 Jack Sheppard was a corky-looking little 
 chestnut, that had won as many cross- 
 country races as any horse of his time. 
 Since he had come into the possession of 
 Messrs. Lukes and Beamish he had also 
 lost a good many ; when the public had 
 been backing him. His rider was a 
 gentleman who generally had the mount 
 on horses Kit Lukes was interested in, 
 the Honourable Pat Considine, Lord Dar- 
 gle's brother. The Honourable Pat was
 
 108 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 as good a rider across country as here 
 and there one. It was a mooted question 
 whether he or Cecil Warleigh was the 
 best ; but for all that, Mr. Lukes was one 
 of the few owners who trusted him. 
 
 Master Pat never could resist a robbery; 
 and how it was he had never been warned 
 off the turf was a mystery. Certainly 
 it was not because he had family interest ; 
 for Lord Dargle, his brother, a sporting 
 nobleman, who was popular and respected, 
 would have been more pleased than any 
 one to see the Honourable Pat banished. 
 Mr. Kit Lukes, however, had an implicit 
 trust in his jockey. 
 
 " There's one thing he daren't do ; and 
 that is, to try and humbug me, " Kit 
 would say, with a knowing wink. And 
 those who had seen them together, agreed 
 with this. 
 
 Jack Warleigh had hurried back to the 
 drag, to watch the race, and had climbed 
 up to sit by the side of Miss Cottingham. 
 Whether he won or lost the race, " this 
 was the best day of his life," he declared 
 to himself. 
 
 There were eight starters. Clovis and 
 Jack Sheppard, an Irish horse Danny 
 Mann, the Squire, a horse that had 
 performed very indifferently on the flat, 
 but had shown much promise as a steeple-
 
 THE EETCHESTER HUNT CUP. 109 
 
 chaser, and four other fairly good horses, 
 who had performed more or less creditably, 
 and might be thought to have some chance 
 of winning. Danny Mann and the Squire 
 were much fancied by their respective 
 stables. 
 
 It was a representative field, and three 
 to one was laid at the start against 
 Clovis, who left off half a point better 
 favourite than Jack Sheppard. Danny 
 Mann and the Squire were both six to 
 one. 
 
 "Well, to-day ought to tell us what 
 cards we hold in our hands," said Colonel 
 Beamish to the lawyer, as from the 
 top of the Grand Stand he fixed his 
 glasses on the horses at the starting-post. 
 
 " Ah, it's a pity that our stable and Sir 
 John Warleigh's should be cutting each 
 other's throats. Wish it was one of the 
 respectable and respected parties I know 
 on the turf who owned 'em," answered 
 Mr. Lukes. 
 
 When they were fairly off, Lord Bam- 
 borough on the Bellman went to the 
 front and made the running at a tremen- 
 dous pace. When they passed the Stand, 
 the first time, he was still leading by some 
 lengths, but his horse was nearly pumped 
 out, and shouts of " Any odds against the 
 Bellman," " I'll lay 'gainst the Bellman,"
 
 110 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 greeted his ears as lie came past the 
 Ring. 
 
 " That's a clever man, mind yon, any- 
 where else. There ain't a leg on the tnrf 
 conld best him. But set him to ride a 
 race, and he's the biggest duffer out," 
 said Kit Lukes to his partner. 
 
 " Well, we're going as well as any of 
 'em. Pat knows what he's about. Clovis 
 is going splendidly, Danny Mann is 
 coming up now," he added, as the Irish 
 horse took up the running from the Bell- 
 man, and led the way by half a field. 
 The pace had been hot, and when they 
 were a mile from home, Danny Mann and 
 the two favourites, the former still leading, 
 were the only three in the race. 
 
 " Our horse is going well enough, but I 
 think the Captain will win. The Irish- 
 man's about done," said Mr. Lukes, who 
 was a wonderfully keen judge of racing, 
 and a thorough sportsman, though a very 
 shady one. 
 
 " Ah, the Captain wins ! Clovis 
 wins ! " 
 
 At the next jump, the distance between 
 the Irish horse and his two opponents 
 was diminished considerably, and the 
 Ring seemed to be of Mr. Lukes' opinion, 
 for there were shouts of " sixty to ten 
 against Danny Mann!" "Here. I'll
 
 THE FETCHESTER HUNT CUP. Ill 
 
 back Clovis ! Three hundred to a 
 hundred on Clovis ! A thousand to a 
 hundred on Clovis ! Any odds on 
 Clovis ! " shouted an excited Ringman, as 
 across the last field Cecil Warleigh came 
 away from Jack Sheppard and raced up 
 to the half -beaten Danny Mann. At the 
 last fence the latter led by about half a 
 length, but he was done for, and as he 
 came up to it he half refused. Before he 
 could quite make up his mind to do so, 
 however, the great Irish horseman who 
 rode him set him at it, and he landed on the 
 other side, but as he did so, he swerved 
 across Clovis, and a yell from the Ring 
 told that they were both down. 
 
 "We win, partner," said Lukes, as the 
 chestnut took the last fence and came in 
 alone ; " but for all that, things look as 
 if these Warleighs have a stronger hand 
 than we have for Liverpool."
 
 112 JACK WARLEIGH, 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 AN AFTER-DINNER NAP. 
 
 Cecil was none the worse for his fall, but 
 he had lost a good deal more money than 
 he ought to have done on the race. Nor 
 was he at all better pleased, when he 
 heard his nephew declaring to any one 
 who cared to listen to him, that he was 
 highly satisfied with Clovis' performance, 
 as it proved what the Crier ought to do 
 at Liverpool. 
 
 Cecil did not ride again, but on the last 
 two races he managed to double his 
 losses. He also had a word or two with 
 his nephew, which put him out all the 
 more. 
 
 " Well, every one knows by this time 
 that Clovis can hardly make the Crier 
 gallop. Don't you think you could find 
 something else to talk about, for a 
 change, instead of running about like a 
 school-boy, and saying the same thing 
 over and over again? " he said interrupting
 
 AN AFTER-DINNER NAP. 113 
 
 him, as he was discussing his chances of 
 winning the cross country Derby, with a 
 Loamshire County gentleman who was 
 not likely to have more than a fiver on 
 the race. 
 
 " After all the horse is mine, and you 
 must allow me to say what I like to my 
 friends," Jack had answered with more 
 heat than he had ever shown before. 
 
 " And I have to hold my tongue, do 
 what I'm told, I suppose. You had 
 better get one of your friends to ride for 
 you, for I'll be hanged if 1 do," he had 
 answered, as he turned away in a passion. 
 
 "I am sorry I said anything to annoy 
 you," Jack answered pleasantly, for his 
 irritation was only momentary. " Only 
 no fellow likes being called a fool in so 
 many words, however true it may be." 
 
 " Oh, that's all right, I ought not to 
 have been so nasty," Cecil had answered 
 in the same tone. " But losing that race 
 as I did, was enough to put a saint out of 
 temper, and I don't profess to be a saint." 
 
 " Confound him, he means to have 
 things his own way," was his inward 
 comment. " Well, it won't do to quarrel 
 with him. What an infernal system the 
 law of entail is, to be sure ! " 
 
 "Did you hear that?" whispered 
 Beamish to the lawyer. The two 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 happened to be standing very near Cecil, 
 when this conversation took place. 
 
 " I guess if the Captain owned the 
 Crier, he might listen to reason. But Sir 
 John is a bit too impetuous and hot- 
 headed. How he reminds me of his 
 father ! They never brought me much 
 luck did the Warleighs." 
 
 " Wonder what he ever had to do with 
 'em ? " mused Mr. Lukes to himself. " I 
 would like to know what his career has 
 been ; perhaps they might tell me at 
 Scotland Yard, only I fancy that broken 
 nose of his has altered him past recogni- 
 tion." 
 
 While the Lancers were at Brille- 
 ton, two troops were quartered at 
 Fetchester, and one of these was Cecil 
 Warleigh's. So, when the steeple-chases 
 were over, he had not far to go home. 
 The next day he had some duty to do, or 
 he would have gone back on the drag to 
 head-quarters, and stayed there, for he 
 felt that Fetchester would be depressing, 
 and the reaction that always sets in after 
 a bad day's racing would be specially 
 hard to bear in a dreary little town. 
 For some reasons he was fairly satisfied 
 to be on detachment duty, for he could 
 get more leave, and he found the place 
 convenient for town, but on that special
 
 AN AFTER-DINNER NAP. 115 
 
 afternoon he felt thoroughly discontented. 
 He wished he was out of the army alto- 
 gether. It was an infernal nuisance, and 
 he would send in his papers, he declared 
 to himself, as he left the drag at the 
 King's Head at Fetchester, and watched 
 it driven off through the town. There 
 was a depressing sense of past festivity, 
 and the place was as flat as a brandy and 
 soda mixed the night before. The town 
 had been crammed, but had now emptied 
 again. The bars and tap-room were 
 crowded with revellers of the lower 
 orders, who were making the place 
 hideous, and getting drunk. All the 
 better class people had gone. The book- 
 makers had taken themselves off, and 
 only the humblest of the camp-followers 
 of the turf -men, who tramped from race- 
 course to race-course still remained. 
 Nor did the barracks afford much hope of 
 a pleasant evening. Two subalterns 
 were away on leave, two others, so he 
 happened to remember, were dining out. 
 He was destined to a tete-a-tete dinner 
 with McGloom, the other Captain. 
 Now no human being would ever call 
 McGloom a choice spirit. Like Quilp, he 
 could not have been one had he wished to 
 be ; and, as a matter of fact he did not 
 wish. He had lately surprised, and to a 
 I 2
 
 116 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 certain extent alarmed his brother officers, 
 by taking a serions turn, and had adopted 
 the principles of the Elected Brethren, 
 because, as far as he understood them, 
 they gave him the best grounds for form- 
 ing the worst possible opinion as to the 
 present state and future destiny of the 
 largest section of his fellow-men. There 
 was only one secular subject which the 
 great change in his life had not put on 
 one side. That was a recollection of a 
 certain steeple-chase he had attended, 
 some half dozen years since, when Cecil 
 had very unwisely advised him to back 
 his mount ; and McGloom, believing that 
 Cecil knew something, had followed his 
 advice to the extent of backing him for 
 three sovereigns. The horror of the 
 moment when he discovered that Cecil 
 was not going to win, and that he was 
 fated to have to pay three sovereigns, 
 was still fresh in his memory. Cecil, 
 since he had been on detachment, had 
 often wished that he had paid the money 
 for him, there and then. It was useless 
 for Cecil to urge, that when a man 
 advised a friend to back a horse, that 
 was at six to one, he could hardly be 
 regarded in the light of an insurer. 
 
 "Ah call it varra bad form, to get 
 your friend to throw away his money in
 
 AN AFTER-DINNER NAP. 117 
 
 backingahorsethat had no airthly chance," 
 he would say, after he had told, again and 
 again, the monotonous story of that race — 
 the last he ever witnessed — for his loss gave 
 him a distaste for that branch of sport. 
 
 " Ah'm afraid there's a gude deal of 
 dishonesty and roguery mixed up in it all," 
 he would add — by way of comment. 
 Though if directly tackled by Cecil, as to 
 what he meant by this remark he would 
 take care to deny having any intention to 
 give personal application to it. The fact 
 of the steeple-chase having occurred, would 
 be certain to give him an opportunity for 
 harking back to his pet grievance. 
 
 Cecil had asked Jack to stay and dine with 
 him, but Jack, on hearing that Kate Cot- 
 tingham was going on, after the steeple- 
 chases, to a watering-place some thirty 
 miles off, and would go to a ball in the 
 evening, had determined to go thither 
 also ; a proceeding which made Cecil feel 
 particularly annoyed with Jack, and tho- 
 roughly alive to the intense folly and 
 weakness of his character. 
 
 " How different everything would be if 
 Jack were only out of the way," he found 
 himself thinking. After he had added up 
 the amount he had lost, he had come to 
 the conclusion, that he would find it very 
 difficult to settle. Altogether, he felt
 
 118 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 there was nothing to do in the town 
 to help him ward off a fit of the blues ; 
 and he would give anything for some sort 
 of excitement. It was a fitting ending to 
 a wretchedly unlucky day, this being left 
 in such a hole of a place with no chance 
 of getting his money back again. 
 
 As he glanced through the door of the 
 King's Head, the principal hotel at Fet- 
 chester, the idea of a "Sherry-and-bitters," 
 suggested itself to him, and he went in, and 
 talked over the events of the day with Miss 
 Cutts, who presided in the bar-parlour. 
 
 " Well, I am sorry you didn't win, Cap- 
 tain, I had my money on you, and so had 
 Charles, and the boots. Though the party 
 who owns Jack Sheppard — Colonel Bea- 
 mish he is called, I think — is staying in 
 the house, and is very pleasant and affa- 
 ble — told us all to back his horse. By the 
 way, Charles, when does number two go 
 up to town ? " 
 
 "Doesn't go up till to-morrow. He'll 
 dine here with Mr. Raggles this evening," 
 answered the waiter. 
 
 " To be sure he does. I daresay you 
 know Mr. Raggles, Captain, son of Mr. 
 Raggles, of Brown and Raggles, the 
 manufacturers . ' ' 
 
 Captain Warleigh said that he hadn't 
 that honour, and was about to leave, when
 
 AN AFTER-DINNER NAP. 119 
 
 Beamish and a young man, whom Cecil 
 recognized as Jack's old college friend, 
 and whom he rightly put down to be Mr. 
 Raggles, came into the bar-parlour. 
 
 The latter, although there were already 
 signs about him that he had not confined 
 himself to non-intoxicants, ordered a " gin 
 and bitters." 
 
 " Well, Captain Warleigh, you had 
 bitter bad luck to-day," said Colonel 
 Beamish, who had a slight acquaint 
 ance with Cecil. " It looked any odds 
 on you when Tom O'Brien upset you. 
 Hope you got it back on the other races ? " 
 
 Cecil's only answer was a shake of the 
 head, which Beamish rightly interpreted 
 as a negative. 
 
 " There were one or two good things I 
 could have told you of. That Hunter's 
 Stakes, nice useful price, the winner 
 started at two." 
 
 " Yes, we knocked the bookies this 
 round," said Mr. Raggles, addressing him- 
 self to Warleigh — whom he did not know 
 — with the easy freedom of partial in- 
 toxication. "I had 'em for six hun- 
 dred." 
 
 Cecil, as he looked at Colonel Beamish, 
 thought to himself that he knew where 
 most of the six hundred would find its 
 way. It annoyed him rather, to think
 
 120 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 that a young greenhorn like Raggles 
 should win when he had lost. 
 
 " Are you staying in this lively city ? 
 I am dining with this sportsman. Do 
 you know him ? Mr. Raggles — Captain 
 Warleigh," said Beamish, who rather 
 doubted whether Warleigh would not 
 resent the impertinence of his introducing 
 a friend, but determined to do it ; as he 
 knew it would please Mr Raggles. 
 
 "Know your nephew Jack very well. 
 He tells me that he's going to have it all 
 his own way at Liverpool — but I don't 
 know that he hasn't made another mis- 
 take. He thought it was a certainty to- 
 day, you know." 
 
 "I am quartered here for my sins," 
 said Cecil, in answer to Beamish's 
 question, without paying much attention 
 to Mr. Raggles' remarks, which reminded 
 him of his grievance against Jack. 
 
 " Look here, Captain Warleigh — why 
 not join us at dinner ? When I dine here 
 Hickman manages to send up a fairish 
 dinner, and some decentish booze. It 
 ain't over-rollicking up at the barracks, I 
 should say," broke in Mr. Raggles. 
 
 Cecil Warleigh did not much care about 
 improving Raggles' acquaintance, nor did 
 he consider that Colonel Beamish was a 
 man with whom it was very desirable to
 
 AN AITEK-DINNER NAP. 121 
 
 become very intimate. On the other 
 hand, anything almost seemed better than 
 a dreary dinner at the barracks. In fact 
 he had been half thinking of dining at 
 the hotel by himself. Beamish un- 
 doubtedly was sometimes very well in- 
 formed about racing matters, and an 
 evening spent in his society might not 
 altogether be unprofitable. So after a 
 little hesitation he accepted the invitation. 
 So far as Colonel Beamish's behaviour 
 went, Cecil had no reason to regret hav- 
 ing consented to dine with him. The 
 Colonel made himself agreeable, and had 
 plenty to say about racing. He discussed 
 the events of the forthcoming season in 
 a way that was well worth attention, and 
 on the other hand showed no wish to 
 pump him in return. Mr. Raggles, who, 
 though he ate very little, paid great 
 attention to the drinkables, got un- 
 pleasantly familiar, as he became un- 
 pleasantly intoxicated. In this condition 
 he did not improve on acquaintance. 
 
 " Tell you what, old chap. I can't 
 understand you being such a flat as to 
 drop your money to-day. Any one who 
 knew anything at all about it, must have 
 made a bit," said Raggles in a tone of 
 familiarity, which had a peculiarly irri- 
 tatinor effect on Cecil, and he went on
 
 122 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 exulting over his winnings, continually 
 harking back to the subject. 
 
 Beamish winked at Cecil, and pointed 
 to his glass. 
 
 " He wouldn't have got much, Captain, 
 unless I had been at his elbow. Wish I 
 had had an opportunity of telling you 
 about the Hunter's Stakes. My opinion 
 is that there ought to be more give and 
 take between owners." 
 
 Cecil did not say much in reply, he was 
 inclined to think Beamish was a little 
 too civil. 
 
 " Well, suppose we have a gamble ? 
 Aye, you're longing to have the finger- 
 ing of some of my winnings, ain't you, 
 Warleigh ? Like to have a little bit to 
 settle with, on Monday ? And that old 
 shark there ? " said Haggles, pointing to 
 Beamish : " he is always game to gamble, 
 as I know to my cost." 
 
 To tell the truth, Mr. Raggles was not 
 far wrong as to Cecil's feelings. He had 
 been longing for some way of gambling 
 ever since he had left the race-course. 
 To a certain extent that feeling had 
 influenced him in accepting the invitation 
 to dinner. However, when Mr. Raggles 
 suggested cards, he had considerable mis- 
 givings. First of all he felt doubtful of 
 the wisdom of encountering that some-
 
 AN AFTEE-DINNER NAP. 123 
 
 what mysterious warrior, Colonel Beam- 
 ish. Then it was pretty obvious that 
 Mr. Haggles was not quite in a fit state to 
 play. His first ground for misgivings was 
 removed by the Colonel announcing that 
 he felt inclined to take a nap, and was too 
 sleepy. " Besides there are too many or 
 too few. You and the Captain have a 
 game at ecarte, and I'll take it easy," 
 Beamish said, lighting a cigar and throw- 
 ing himself on a sofa. 
 
 "VVarleigh was irresolute. Certainly he 
 would like to settle the rather awkward 
 question of " ways and means " at the 
 expense of Mr. Haggles. To settle his 
 accounts on the following Monday would 
 require a loan from Jack, who had lately 
 shown that he was beginning to realize 
 that the spending capacities of his fortune 
 were not boundless. Cecil disliked the 
 idea of going to him for help just then 
 particularly, as for reasons of his 
 own he felt anything but well dis- 
 posed to him, and was inclined to feel 
 more- keenly than ever he did, that his 
 young kinsman was very much in the 
 way. 
 
 But then to play with Haggles, who 
 was momentarily getting more and more 
 tipsy, was not very reputable. Still it 
 was not his business to see that Haggles
 
 124 JACK WARLETGH. 
 
 was not sober, and after all he had not 
 proposed cards. Far from it, Haggles 
 was worrying him to play. 
 
 " Don't feel very inclined for it, still I 
 should not mind playing ecarte for an 
 hour or so," he said at last. 
 
 Beamish' s cigar had dropped from his 
 mouth and he was snoring, so the two 
 were practically alone. 
 
 " Right you are, ecarte is my game. 
 Look here, we'll play ten games, twenty- 
 five pounds a game," said Raggles, and 
 taking up a pack, he began to sort out 
 the small cards. The way he performed 
 this, bore witness to his condition. It 
 is impossible to .say how long he would 
 have been over the cards, if Cecil had 
 not undertaken it for him. 
 
 " Well, we'll play as you like," said 
 Cecil as he cut for deal. 
 
 No, it was no business of his to notice 
 that the youngster was drunk, and after 
 all, how was he to know that it was 
 not his ordinary manner ? But, as they 
 played, Cecil's inconvenient scruples began 
 to rise again. Now Raggles would 
 expose his hand by mistake, — then he 
 forgot to mark the king. But to drunken 
 men there is an exception to the rule 
 that cards never forgive. Fortune made 
 up for all Raggles' blunders. Though he
 
 AN AFTER-DINNER NAP. ] 25 
 
 forgot to mark the king, he made a trick 
 with it, and the court cards of trumps 
 seemed never to be out. By sheer bad 
 play he lost several games, but Cecil had 
 wretched cards as a rule, and at the end 
 of the first ten games R aggies was fifty 
 pounds to the good. Raggles proposed 
 ten more games for fifty. Cecil agreed 
 to it, he had become savage and deter- 
 mined to win ; his scruples did not trouble 
 him any longer. They each won five 
 games. Beamish still snored in peace as 
 they played. 
 
 " Ecarte is all infernal rot, too slow a 
 game," said Raggles. " Let's change it 
 to something more lively : say poker, let'sh 
 play poker." 
 
 " Single poker is rather a cut-throat 
 sort of game, isn't it ? " queried Cecil, as 
 he coolly took stock of his young friend 
 who was every minute getting more in- 
 capable. 
 
 " You're not afraid, are you ? Have 
 a limit if you don't care to play too high ; 
 but if we go on playing at this rot we 
 shall play without either of us being 
 better or worse for it." 
 
 " I think a limit is nonsense, but just 
 as you like," answered Cecil, who knew 
 perfectly well that poker, particularly 
 single poker, is just the game at
 
 126 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 which a drunken man is most likely to 
 come to serious grief. Cecil, however, 
 had sworn to himself that one of them 
 should be decidedly the better before it 
 was over. 
 
 "I don't mind playing poker, but I 
 won't go on long," he said, taking up the 
 cards and shuffling them. 
 
 " Shall we wake up old Beamish, 
 there, and have three?" said Raggles, 
 pointing to the recumbent figure of the 
 colonel. 
 
 "We shall do very well as we are," 
 Cecil said as he put the cards down. 
 
 Raggles gulped down a brandy and 
 soda, and then after a few words about 
 the amount of the blind — Cecil wasted no 
 time in making a demur about the play 
 being too high— the game began. 
 
 The two were ill-matched enough. 
 Raggles tipsy and excited ; Cecil cool, and 
 determined to make the most of every 
 chance. The knowledge that he was doing 
 a rather shady thing, which to a certain 
 extent oppressed him, only seemed to 
 steady his nerves, and make him greedy 
 to win. But fortune still kept faithful to 
 Raggles, and the worse his cards were, 
 the more reckless his play became. The 
 drink he had taken told more and more 
 upon him, but still his good luck made up
 
 AN AFTER-DINNER NAP. 127 
 
 for his bad play. He was a hundred 
 pounds to the good at poker, and Cecil 
 was beginning to feel very savage with 
 him. After one draw Eaggles stupidly 
 exposed his hand. Cecil was beginning to 
 tell him what he had done, when he 
 doubled. Cecil had seen that he had 
 three aces, a four and a six in his hand. 
 He himself held a full hand of kings, 
 high. Cecil tried to argue with himself 
 that after all, he only had a glimpse of the 
 cards, and could not be quite sure that 
 Haggles had not two fours, but notwith- 
 withstanding, he doubled in' return. Hag- 
 gles with the obstinacy of a drunken man, 
 doubled again. Cecil again doubled ; and 
 so they went on until the stake became 
 nine hundred pounds. Then Eaggles 
 made it eighteen hundred. " That ought 
 to be about enough to win him," thought 
 Cecil. 
 
 " I will see your cards. Full hand. 
 Kings high," cried Cecil. 
 
 " Full hand. Aces high," said Eaggles, 
 " no, stay ! three aces, a four, and a six ! 
 confounded mistake," corrected Eaggles. 
 
 " Eighteen hundred to me," said Cecil, 
 calmly pushing a pencil and some paper 
 across the table. 
 
 Eaggles scrawled an I.O.U. for the 
 amount. " I'll have a drink after that,"
 
 128 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 he said, and getting np, he lurched across 
 the room, and pulled at the bell. The 
 rope coming off in his hands, he came 
 down in a heap in the corner of the room. 
 Almost at the same moment, the waiter, 
 who had probably been in the passage, 
 entered, in answer to the summons, and 
 Beamish seemed to wake up at the same 
 moment.
 
 129 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 COLONEL BEAMISH WIDE AWAKE. 
 
 " Gad ! how I've slept ! Hallo ! our 
 noisy young friend had better be got to 
 bed. Help Mr. Haggles to No. 3, waiter. 
 Take something before you go, Captain 
 Warleigh," said the colonel. 
 
 Cecil was carefully folding up Haggles' 
 I.O.U., and about to put it into his betting- 
 book. 
 
 " Thank you, but I've already done very 
 well," then after a word or two of fare- 
 well, he took his departure. His win- 
 nings amounted to about sixteen hundred 
 pounds. " It will come in very useful," 
 Cecil thought, as he walked back to the 
 barracks ; but he couldn't help wishing 
 that Mr. Haggles had kept himself a little 
 bit straighter, and not have made such an 
 utter collapse at the finish. It did not look 
 well. Then the matter of the last nine 
 hundred pounds that he had won came 
 back very unpleasantly to his conscience. 
 He had never done anything quite like 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 that before. It was just as if he had 
 taken the money from him, for he had 
 known all the time he was raising the 
 bets, that Raggles had a worse hand than 
 his. Well, it would have been much the 
 same if he had not known for certain, for 
 he would have guessed that Raggles was 
 bluffing, he tried to persuade himself, but 
 it was not much good. It was not his 
 business to look after Raggles. He did 
 not propose the game ; and the money he 
 had won would come in very opportunely. 
 He wondered whether Raggles would pay 
 up, or want time. Hang it, he ought to 
 pay up at once ; and this thought sug- 
 gested a train of thoughts, in which he 
 forgot the twinges of conscience which had 
 troubled him ; and, turning into bed, he 
 slept the sleep of the just. 
 
 Next morning, waking refreshed from 
 his sleep, Cecil was inclined to take rather 
 a favourable view of his last night's pro- 
 ceedings. He quite persuaded himself, 
 that he had not really seen Raggles' cards 
 in that hurried glance he got at them. 
 
 The young cad stunk of money, and the 
 sixteen hundred pounds would come in 
 very useful. As for Raggles being drunk, 
 he was not going to admit any such thing, 
 his legs may have been wrong, but his 
 head was right enough. Had he not
 
 COLONEL BEAMISH WIDE AWAKE. 131 
 
 won all the evening, nntil just the last 
 coil]) ? Anyhow, it would be a good bit 
 pleasanter than having to go to Jack for the 
 money. It was perhaps a lucky thing for 
 him, he began to think, that Beamish went 
 to sleep in the way he did. Something 
 suggested to him, that if -the Colonel had 
 taken a hand, his luck perhaps would not 
 have been quite so good as it was. He was 
 in a drowsy state, looking at his bath, and 
 thinking that he must get up soon, when 
 he heard a voice in the passage inquiring 
 for him, and then there was a knock at his 
 door, and in walked the very gentleman 
 he had been thinking so complacently 
 about, viz. Colonel Beamish. 
 
 " Excuse me, Captain, for taking you so 
 early," began the Colonel, as he took up 
 a position in front of the fire, " but I am 
 off by the eleven train, and thought that 
 maybe I shouldn't catch you, unless I 
 dropped in first thing." 
 
 Cecil took advantage of his position as 
 a man in bed, and therefore not obliged 
 to be energetic in entertaining his visitor. 
 What he wondered at was ' why had the 
 Colonel taken the trouble to call on him 
 at all ? ' 
 
 " Well, I daresay you can guess what 
 I've come about," remarked Beamish, 
 " it's about last night's business." 
 k 2
 
 132 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 " Don't remember that we had any 
 business together, Colonel Beamish," said 
 Cecil, beginning to feel rather uncomfort- 
 able. 
 
 " I take it, so far as I could make out, 
 and I followed the game pretty closely, 
 that you had that youngster last night 
 for about sixteen or seventeen hundred 
 pounds." 
 
 " You allow yourself to use rather 
 remarkable language, Colonel Beamish ; 
 but if you mean how much did I win at 
 cards, you are not far out in your 
 estimate." 
 
 " I mean pretty much what I said," 
 answered Beamish, with provoking cool- 
 ness, " but it will be time enough to 
 argue when we understand each other." 
 
 "Well, I suppose you've come from Mr. 
 Raggles?" asked Cecil. 
 
 "Mr. Raggles is sleeping off last 
 night's drink. No, I come on my own 
 account. I have a little proposition to 
 make about that money. It is simple 
 enough. I say ' halves' in the plunder." 
 
 "What the devil do you mean?" 
 shouted Cecil, sitting up in bed, now 
 thoroughly awake. " It may be custom- 
 ary among your friends and confederates, 
 that the gang should share in any money 
 that any of their number win at play, but
 
 • COLONEL BEAMISH WIDE AWAKE. 133 
 
 I've not the honour of belonging to that 
 section of society." 
 
 " Yet, when you play with a boy who 
 is blind drunk, and win nine hundred 
 pounds from him on a deal at poker, after 
 you looked over his hand, you show that 
 you would not be so very strange in that 
 section of society, if ever it was your lot 
 to join it." 
 
 " Leave my quarters, or I'll kick you 
 out of them," said Cecil, jumping out of 
 bed, and approaching his visitor in a 
 threatening manner. 
 
 " Gro slow, and keep your hands off 
 me," said Colonel Beamish. " You have 
 more than twenty-five years the best of 
 me, but you wouldn't find it an easy job, 
 however, try it, if you like ; but while you 
 are putting your boots on to kick me out, 
 listen to me. I was not asleep last night. 
 Now just ask yourself the question, Am 
 I the sort of man who would be likely to 
 go to sleep while heavy play was going 
 on?" 
 
 Cecil clenched his teeth. Looking back 
 it seemed to him, for a customer like 
 Colonel Beamish to have slept quietly 
 through the rather curious transactions 
 of the evening before was a very unlikely 
 proceeding. Besides he seemed to have 
 a very clear notion of what had taken
 
 134 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 place. Cecil remembered, however, the 
 sort of character he had to deal with, and 
 determined to put a bold face on the 
 matter. 
 
 " Last night, after having been re- 
 peatedly asked to do so by Mr. Raggles, 
 I consented to play cards. That he was 
 not sober when he played, whatever he 
 may have been afterwards, I utterly deny. 
 As for your other statement, all I have to 
 say is, that it is an impudent falsehood, 
 thoroughly in keeping with your brazen 
 attempt to extort money. Tf Mr. Raggles 
 ever wishes to mix in more respectable 
 society than yours, he had better pay his 
 losses. As for you, I shall take the 
 opinion of a criminal lawyer." 
 
 " Not bad, Captain, but you haven't 
 seen my hand as clearly as you did 
 Raggles last night. You see I have a 
 card or two you have not reckoned up. 
 It's not only my word against yours. 
 See here how it is. When that young ass 
 wakes up and remembers something about 
 last night, he'll ask me what happened. 
 I tell him he was drunk and was robbed 
 when he was drunk. It won't be only my 
 evidence, but his. Then there will be the 
 waiter who cleared away dinner, at half- 
 past nine, and will have to say that he 
 was pretty well three parts drunk then,
 
 COLONEL BEAMISH WIDE AWAKE. 135 
 
 and that at one, when he took him to bed, 
 he was blind and speechless. Between 
 half-past nine and one, yon won seven- 
 teen hundred pounds off him. Rather an 
 ugly story that." 
 
 Cecil Warleigh realized that it would 
 be a very ugly story. He wished to 
 goodness he had kept clear of Beamish 
 and Raggles. 
 
 " Well, Captain," Beamish went on, 
 " if 1 take that line I shall improve my 
 position with that young ass Raggles, 
 and a good bit of that seventeen hundred 
 pounds will find its way here," and the 
 Colonel slapped his pocket. " But see 
 here ; suppose I say to him that though he 
 got a bit ' cut ' afterwards, he was as 
 steady as a rock while the play went on, 
 and that there is no earthly excuse for his 
 not paying. Why then he will find the 
 money. He can do it easily enough, mind 
 you, and when it is divided up, there will 
 be eight hundred odd apiece, and may be, 
 I can show you how to make that eight 
 hundred into a good deal more. When I 
 saw you winning that fool's money, I 
 thought to myself that you and I were 
 partners for the night, and what a pity it 
 was, so I thought, that we weren't going 
 to be partners in one or two other little 
 things. Believe me, Captain, I could
 
 136 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 show you how to bring a rare good week 
 off, before many days are over, if you and 
 I were pals." 
 
 " You have a queer way of putting 
 things," said Cecil gloomily. He cer- 
 tainly did not like the look of the turn 
 affairs had taken. He would, he thought, 
 be glad enough to give up the money he 
 had won, but if he did, there would be 
 an ugly story against him, which would 
 most likely sooner or later get wind. 
 After all, it seemed safer to keep on good 
 terms with Beamish. 
 
 " Now, don't mistake me, I don't want 
 to dine with you at mess, or to slap you 
 on the back, or to parade the fact that we 
 are pals. We shouldn't do each other 
 much good by my doing that ; but on the 
 quiet, don't you think that we might, 
 now and then, play into each other's 
 hands. Now, to show that I mean 
 business. I'll tell you what. You need 
 not give me more than six hundred of that 
 money. I must have that, for it ain't 
 likely I let the young fool win money 
 yesterday, at the races, without intending 
 to get hold of his winnings." 
 
 Warleigh looked uncomfortable, but he 
 had ceased to be indignant. Yes, look- 
 ing carefully at the matter, he thought 
 that the best thing he could do, was to
 
 COLONEL BEAMISH WIDE AWAKE. 137 
 
 shut Beamish' s mouth, and let him settle 
 matters quietly. As for any future 
 dealings with Beamish, he promised him- 
 self that he would have as little as 
 possible to do with that very dangerous 
 gentleman. 
 
 " Well, you can have the money," he 
 said rather suddenly. 
 
 " That's sensible, just write out a 
 memo, to that effect, not that it is wanted 
 perhaps, only if after I have persuaded 
 young Raggles to send you a cheque — as 
 he will do, mind you, before many hours 
 are over — you somehow forget this little 
 arrangement, why I should have a card 
 to play. No, just write a promise to pay 
 me six hundred pounds on receiving a 
 cheque from Raggles," and Beamish 
 looked round the room, and finding some 
 writing materials, brought them to the 
 table by the bed. " No, don't take it 
 amiss. It's the first time we have done 
 business, and one likes to have everything 
 straight. After a bit, no doubt you and I 
 will be on more confidential terms, and 
 shall become as thick as thieves." 
 
 Cecil Warleigh, thought the last ex- 
 pression a singularly ill-chosen one, but 
 for all that he wrote what the other 
 wanted. As he did so, Beamish took out 
 a sporting paper from his pocket.
 
 138 JACK WARLEIUH. 
 
 " They have sent the Crier to fours 
 for the Grand National. Absurd price ! 
 you say. Well, that is just what it is. 
 It ain't the certainty that some people 
 think either. I know an outsider at 
 thirties, which is well worth backing. 
 In fact, in any other year — with the 
 Crier out of the way, I know how that 
 thousand pounds you will take off young 
 Haggles might be made into a niceish 
 bit." 
 
 " But the Crier won't be out of the way, 
 he will start, and I think he'll win. But 
 fours to one is an absurd price." 
 
 " You don't think there is any chance 
 of Sir John being got to see reason?" 
 asked Beamish, looking into Cecil's face, 
 as if he were trying to read his thoughts. 
 
 " Not the slightest," Cecil answered. 
 
 " Well, it can't be helped. It's a pity 
 too that two parties should cut each 
 other's throats ; this ain't a world to lose 
 good chances in ; just for the want of a 
 little arrangement. See here, Captain, 
 you'll be up in town next week, drop me 
 a line to Tankard's Hotel, and we'll meet 
 somewhere quietly, and have a little talk, 
 until then, take my tip, and don't be in a 
 hurry to take fours about the Crier. 
 Good morning ! " and the Colonel swag- 
 gered out of the room.
 
 COLONEL BEAMISH WIDE AWAKE. 139 
 
 The less he saw of that dubious warrior 
 the better, Cecil "Warleigh's better self told 
 him ; yet a few moments afterwards he 
 was thinking that he might just as well 
 learn something about the outsider the 
 Colonel spoke about.
 
 140 JACK WABLEIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 WINDMILL LODGE. 
 
 Jack Waeleigh had agreed to drive Cecil 
 over to Windmill Lodge, where Tom 
 Ring's stables were, the day after the 
 Fetchester Steeple-chases. In old Sir 
 Greorge's time, three or fonr rooms at the 
 Lodge had been furnished very comfort- 
 ably, and he had spent a good deal of 
 time there, looking after his horses, 
 coming and going when he liked, and 
 being perfectly free from the restraint 
 and observation to w^hich he was subjected 
 at Warleigh Hall. The hounds were 
 meeting on the following day, very near 
 the Lodge ; so it was arranged that Cecil 
 should stay a day or two there, to confer 
 with Tom Ring, ride the Crier in his 
 gallops, and run his eye over some of the 
 other horses in training. 
 
 Jack was by no means one of those 
 unhappy-tempered men, who after a slight 
 difference with any one, are never — as
 
 WINDMILL LODGE. 141 
 
 they like to put it — quite the same again. 
 He considered that Cecil had spoken very 
 nicely afterwards. He thought of their 
 dispute, however, when he found — as he 
 did — that he had to break his engage- 
 ment. 
 
 " I'm awfully sorry, old chap," he said, 
 as he bustled into the ante-room at the 
 barracks, about the time he had arranged 
 to call for Cecil, " but I can't go to 
 Windmill Lodge this afternoon. There 
 is a political meeting here, that I ought 
 to attend. You see, one ought to go in 
 for those sort of things. Life isn't all 
 beer and skittles, one has one's duties, 
 and all that. It is an infernal bore, but 
 one has got to go in for it. You see, old 
 Sir George and the late baronet were 
 prominent politicians, and I must take my 
 part, too. There's the dog-cart for you 
 to drive over in, and I shall be there to- 
 morrow evening. I hope you won't mind." 
 
 " No, I shall be all right by myself," 
 Cecil said ; and he spoke the truth. His 
 nephew's society rather bored him than 
 otherwise just then. " And you are 
 quite right to go in for those sort of 
 things. You ought to be member for the 
 county, and will be, next General Election. 
 You'll make a deuced sight better member 
 than poor George was. He was ever-
 
 142 JACK WAELEIGH, 
 
 lastingly running about the country and 
 delivering speeches — a hash of newspaper 
 articles — to a bored village audience. 
 I don't believe any one ever listened to 
 one of them without pondering over the 
 advantages of definitely going over to the 
 other side, and so never by any chance 
 having to listen to him again." 
 
 " I am glad you think I am doing the 
 right thing, and to tell you the truth I 
 have some idea of doing what you men- 
 tion." 
 
 " Cromwell ! I charge thee, fling away 
 ambition," quoted Cecil laughingly ; " but 
 seriously I think you are right. You 
 don't know what it is to come to my age, 
 and feel that you have never done any- 
 thing more than ride and shoot ; but you 
 have a better chance than I ever had." 
 
 As he said this Cecil's manner was 
 pleasant enough, but for all that, he re- 
 cognized the sermon that had produced 
 this effect upon his nephew, and the train 
 of thought that was suggested thereby 
 was not over-pleasing. 
 
 " Lord Whippenham comes down this 
 afternoon and some of us are to meet him, 
 and there is a dinner to-night and a 
 meeting to-morrow, so there will be no 
 hunting for me. I hope they'll make 
 you comfortable at the lodge."
 
 WINDMILL LODGE. 143 
 
 " You bet they will. It won't be the 
 first time I've stayed there, by a good 
 many. Well, good luck to you. Make a 
 good speech at the dinner," he added as 
 Jack hurried away to his political duties. 
 
 " Dashed young ass ; he seems to feel 
 himself a Cabinet Minister at least, because 
 he is taking part in a twopenny-halfpenny 
 meeting," Cecil said to himself as he 
 prepared to start for Windmill Lodge. 
 
 The trainer's house and stables stood 
 on the edge of a long stretch of undulat- 
 ing heath land. Behind it were some 
 acres of plantation, round the tan gallop. 
 Everything about the place was perfect, for 
 if was built by old Sir George, who, hardly 
 pressed for money or not, never knew what 
 it was to stint expense in his amusements. 
 The place stood quiet enough, for it was 
 just five miles from any village, but a 
 private wire from the house put it in 
 communication with the rest of the world. 
 
 " Glad to see you, Captain ; but where 
 is Sir John?" asked Tom Ring, a hand- 
 some, fresh-looking man, who came out of 
 the house as the dog-cart was driven into 
 the yard. 
 
 " He thinks he is bound to go and sup- 
 port Lord Whippenham, at the dinner 
 to-night, and the meeting to-morrow, 
 Ring," said Cecil.
 
 144 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 " I am glad of it, Captain, he ought to 
 be there. I'd like to be there myself, and 
 say what I think about things," said the 
 trainer, who in a way was a well-read 
 man, and took great interest in politics, 
 being fond of the sound of his own voice. 
 "The lodge looks well, doesn't it? Every- 
 thing is trim and smart again, and the 
 stables are worthy of the horses that are 
 in 'em?" he continued, looking compla- 
 cently round at the buildings and out- 
 houses ; no doubt thanking his stars that 
 a baronet fond of sport once again ruled 
 at Warleigh. 
 
 " It was a bad business, that at Fet- 
 chester, wasn't it, Captain ? You were 
 winning easy enough though ; but it 
 shows up our form as being pretty good, 
 doesn't it?" 
 
 Cecil Warleigh was the one man whom 
 Tom Ring admired from the bottom of 
 his heart. When he was a boy about the 
 stables, in his father's time, Cecil had 
 just joined the service, and was his ideal 
 gentleman. Cecil won the first Grand 
 National he had ever seen. Cecil was 
 one of the few whom he would admit 
 to be his superior as a horseman, and 
 he was inclined to allow that he knew 
 almost as much about his own business 
 of training as he did himself. Cecil
 
 WINDMILL LODGE. 145 
 
 could do, well, all the things he best un- 
 derstood ; so he made a hero of him, and 
 thought he could do anything he liked. 
 
 Five years before, an incident had 
 happened which had greatly added to 
 Cecil's influence over Tom Ring. The 
 latter' s only child, a little girl, then but 
 five years old, to whom he w r as de- 
 voted, had been playing near the 
 weir on the Loam, which runs half-a- 
 mile from Windmill Lodge. Cecil had 
 been staying there with his father, and 
 was whiling away the afternoon by 
 spinning for pike in the mill dam. Tom 
 Ring was some way off fishing, and the 
 little girl had strayed down after him, 
 but he had not noticed her, and no one 
 was looking after her. Cecil had hooked 
 a pike and w^as just landing it w^hen 
 he heard a child's scream. Looking 
 round, he saw the flaxen-haired little 
 girl topple from the w r oodwork of the 
 sluice, on which she had climbed, right 
 into the pool below the lasher. Tom 
 Ring saw Cecil drop his rod, hurry to 
 the side of the weir, and plunge into 
 the stream. He hurried to where he 
 saw the splash, and came in time 
 to see Cecil struggling to the bank, 
 with the little girl in his arms. There 
 was, perhaps, no very great danger in 
 . VOL. i. L
 
 146 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 what Cecil had done, though there was a 
 treacherous under-current at the spot, but 
 Tom Ring never forgot it. He would do 
 anything for the Captain — anything that 
 one man could ask of another. To have 
 a chance of showing how grateful he was 
 would be his greatest pleasure. 
 
 After Cecil had eaten a capital dinner 
 and sat smoking a cigar and finishing 
 a bottle of old port, which had been 
 some of a stock laid down at the lodge 
 in old Sir George's time, the wine was 
 too good to be smoked over — but Cecil 
 found a cigar irresistible, — Tom Ring 
 came into the room. It was the sitting- 
 room furnished twenty years before by 
 old Sir G-eorge, and its walls, if they 
 could speak, could have told some strange 
 tales of high play between the old baronet 
 and his racing cronies, and of various 
 other matters. 
 
 After accepting a cigar, Tom Ring 
 drew a stiff-backed chair to the table, 
 and helped himself to a glass of wine, 
 Cecil leaning back in a roomy arm-chair, 
 in which he remembered so well seeing 
 his father sit. 
 
 " Well, Tom, what about Liverpool and 
 the Crier ? They appear to think it is as 
 good as over, by the betting. Did ever 
 man hear of such an absurd price ? "
 
 WINDMILL LODGE. 147 
 
 " Well, Captain, three to one is a short 
 price for a cross-country race. But I 
 don't know. He's bound to win, I think. 
 He's one of the old sort. There ain't any 
 like him nowadays. He's a Triton among 
 minnows." 
 
 " Three to one is too short a price to 
 take ; at least for a man of my means, 
 Tom." 
 
 " You see there ain't anything else in 
 the race according to my notions. No- 
 thing of the same class," answered the 
 trainer. " Lord Bamborough's horse ain't 
 near the Crier, and if he were, his lord- 
 ship can't ride a race ; and they say he 
 means riding himself." 
 
 " Yes, he means riding, and I'm not 
 afraid of him, but there's no telling what 
 there mayn't be against one," answered 
 Cecil, and he began to think of Colonel 
 Beamish and his outsider. 
 
 "We have some other pretty smartish 
 ones in at Sandham, and we ought to 
 pick up a race or two there. I don't 
 know what is wronsf with Sir Roland, but 
 there's no getting him right again. 
 G-allop him a quarter-of-a-mile and he's 
 certain to pull up dead lame. It's a pity 
 too, for he is a good-looking horse, ain't 
 unlike the Crier ; only he ain't worth a 
 farthing," said Tom Ring, and then he 
 l 2
 
 148 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 began to discuss other animals in his 
 stables. 
 
 " Please, Mr. Ring," said a maid- 
 servant who was clearing away the cloth, 
 " there is Joe Lees — gipsy Joe as they 
 call him — wants to see you, and when I 
 said you was up here talking with the 
 Captain, he said ' the Captain might as 
 well hear what he had to say to you.' " 
 
 " I remember the rascal, he used al- 
 ways to be lurking about the woods, 
 when the horses were being galloped," 
 said Cecil. 
 
 " Yes, a rank tout, but Sir John doesn't 
 mind the public knowing what his horses 
 do ; in fact, he seems to like it, "answered 
 Ring. 
 
 Joe Lees was a long, dark-skinned 
 fellow — with a not unpleasant expression 
 in his bold dark eyes. He had been, in 
 his time, a good deal at war with the 
 powers that be, but for all that, he could 
 be quite at his ease with the respectable 
 part of the community whenever he met 
 them. 
 
 " Hope I see you well, Captain ? None 
 the worse for that fall in the big race ? 
 I were main sorry to see you beat by a 
 mean bloke like that Pat Considine. I 
 owe him one for pulling a horse, and 
 losing me three crowns. I nearly paid
 
 WINDMILL LODGE. 149 
 
 him out at Worcester last year, afore the 
 races. I were asleep along side of the 
 course, under a hedge, when this 'ere 
 6 honourable ' as they calls him, comes a- 
 walking round the course, 'aving a squint 
 at the jumps. When I twigged him and 
 sees no one nigh, I gets in front of him 
 and says, ' bain't you the Honourable Pat 
 Considine?'" 
 
 " ' Yes, I am,' he says quite affable, 
 * but I don't know you.' 
 
 " ' No, but you blam'd soon will, for I'm 
 going to give you the best 'idin' you ever 
 had. You pulled a horse last spring and 
 lost me three crowns. Will you fight ? ' 
 
 " ' No, gipsy,' he says, ' I can't fight, 
 but I can run like blazes,' and off he 
 starts before I can get at him, and never 
 stops running till he gets to the Grand 
 Stand, bless yer, he didn't wait to deny 
 having pulled the horse." 
 
 Cecil laughed merrily at the notion of 
 Pat Considine's discomfiture. "If he 
 had a thrashing for every race he's 
 pulled, he wouldn't have a sound bone in 
 his body," he said. 
 
 " Well, Joe, and what is your busi- 
 ness ? " asked Tom Ring, who was 
 anxious to know what the gipsy had 
 come about. 
 
 " Well, it's a little bit of news I wished
 
 150 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 to give you, gov'ner. There's a cove 
 come down from London to watch our 
 horses, and he'll be on the ground to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Joe, you don't like any one to 
 peach on your preserves, do you?" said 
 Tom Ring with a laugh. 
 
 " No, I don't want strangers from 
 London humbugging about, not that I 
 believe he is one who could see what was 
 going on, if he was on the ground. I 
 s'pose he'd heard that I knew summut 
 about horses, for he comes and gives me 
 a bob, and axes me to come out with him 
 to-morrow, saying, ' he warn't quite sure 
 about the horses and didn't feel certain 
 he knew which was which, as it wer' a 
 long time since he see the Crier.' " 
 
 "Well, Joe, here's another bob for 
 you," said Tom Ring, " but the party from 
 London may come and welcome to see 
 anything there is to be seen. We aren't 
 so strict about touting as we used to be in 
 old Sir George's time." 
 
 " That's a main pity, it makes informa- 
 tion worth so little," said gipsy Joe, 
 grinning. In those old days he had 
 generally managed to learn all he wanted 
 to know. 
 
 " Take a glass," said Cecil, passing a 
 decanter of whiskey towards him, " and
 
 WINDMILL LODGE. 151 
 
 drink to your next merry meeting with 
 Pat Considine." 
 
 The gipsy helped himself pretty stiffly 
 to whiskey, and after he had put the 
 glass down he winked at Mr. Ring, and 
 said : " It was a pity that the party from 
 London should go back without having 
 learned something worth knowing." 
 
 Cecil seemed to coincide with this 
 notion. 
 
 "I take it, Joe, if there was anything 
 to be seen, you'd take care he didn't miss 
 it, supposing we got up something for 
 him to see." 
 
 " That's it, Captain ! you're fly ; that's 
 just what I thought on. A cove that 
 comes from London to see our horses 
 ought to learn some' at for his pains." 
 
 " Now, mind you, Joe. I'll ride the 
 Crier to-morrow ; Mr. Ring will be on 
 Clovis," said Cecil, " and here is another 
 five shillings for you, and now you may 
 take another glass of whiskey, and mind 
 to-morrow morning that the party from 
 London doesn't miss anything." 
 
 " What were you telling me about Sir 
 Roland ? " Cecil asked of Ring, after the 
 gipsy had taken his departure. " Goes 
 lame after he has been galloped a bit, 
 you say ? And he has something of the 
 Crier's appearance ? "
 
 152 JACK WAR LEIGH. 
 
 " It would serve him thundering well 
 right if we were to play a trick like that 
 on him and those who employ him. But 
 do you think Sir John would like it?" 
 asked the trainer. " For my part, I hate 
 the lot who come sniffing about training 
 quarters, trying to pick up any bit of 
 information." 
 
 " Oh, depend upon it," replied Cecil, 
 "he would see the fun of the thing. It 
 would be a rare joke, and teach them not 
 to send men bothering down here, where 
 they're not wanted. Gripsy Joe would 
 take care that the fellow would take it in 
 right enough." 
 
 It would be a very good joke for Sir 
 John and for himself too, Cecil thought, 
 as he pondered the circumstance over in 
 his mind. He did not altogether look at 
 the matter in a humorous light. The 
 effect of giving the tout something to 
 telegraph back to London might be to 
 have a very bracing effect on the book- 
 makers, and induce them to lay a reason- 
 able price against the Crier.
 
 153 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A VERY PRACTICAL JOKE. 
 
 A little before day-break, the party from 
 London stumbled through the main street 
 of Broughton, a large straggling village 
 some four miles from Tom Ring's stables 
 to the village green, where gipsy Joe had 
 appointed to meet him. 
 
 " Well, gov'nor, do you find it airy 
 enough ? " said that worthy with a grin 
 as he noticed the other's face, which 
 looked blue with cold. 
 
 " Hawful ! hawful ! 'ang the country 
 and genuine information. Give me a nice 
 warm public-house parlour, and a 'go' of 
 hot gin and water afore me, a jockey boy 
 a-drinking champagne and a-smoking 
 cigars, and a-talking about what goes on 
 in his stables, and I don't mind getting 
 hinformation that way, but as for going 
 out of a mornin' to see 'orses do their 
 gallops, it ain't nowise good enough for 
 Jimmy Bulbeck, who can do better than
 
 154 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 get in ' the know ' that way, any day. 
 But there, bless yer, Mr. Raggles he will 
 have it. * Bulbeck,' he says, ' I should 
 like you to have a look at Tom Ring's lot. 
 Captain Warleigh is a-goin' over there, 
 and maybe there'll be some' at to see.' I 
 'ate the job, I do. Warn't it at Tom 
 Ring's that a lout got arf eat by a dawg, 
 a year ago ? " 
 
 "No, that were at Bill Holmes' in the 
 next county, but it were Tom Ring's 
 stables the party went to as never were 
 'eard of agin. He 'adn't many near friends, 
 I suppose, an' when he didn't come back 
 agin, nobody missed him. 
 
 "He larnt somethin' that bloke did, 
 as old Abel Ring, for it was in the old 
 'uns time, didn't want to go no further. 
 Nobody missed him, but if they come to me 
 and give me blunt enough to make me blab, 
 I'd show 'em where he lies six foot under 
 ground," and the gipsy laughed grimly. 
 
 " 'Anged if I go humbuggin' out there 
 at all," said Mr. Bulbeck, looking back in 
 the direction of the inn, where he had 
 slept. There ain't likely to be what one 
 would call a trial, an' I don't want to see 
 it if there is," he added with a shudder. 
 
 " Don't be af eared, gov'ner ! You're all 
 right with me, you come along, and mind 
 yer, I doan't say but what we may see
 
 A VEEY PRACTICAL JOKE. 155 
 
 some' at like a trial," said the gipsy, and 
 he set out to walk at a brisk rate, Mr. 
 Bulbeck shambling along after him, 
 grumbling to himself anent the dangers 
 and difficulties of the service on which he 
 was engaged. Bulbeck still had the 
 countenance and support of Mr. haggles, 
 for though the latter gentleman had 
 aspired to become more of a sporting 
 character than he had been when an un- 
 dergraduate, even to the extent of being 
 in with such very sharp customers as 
 Colonel Beamish and Mr. Kit Lukes, he 
 still was faithful to his old idol, Mr. Jimmy 
 Bulbeck. It had happened that the latter 
 by some piece of luck had advised him to 
 back the winner of the Cambridgeshire, 
 that started at forty to one. And though 
 it was the only one of about eight certain- 
 ties that he had persuaded his patron to 
 back, still the circumstance was enough 
 to confirm Mr. Raggles' faith, and he con- 
 tinued to send Mr. Bulbeck about to watch 
 trials and report to him of horses. The 
 reports, so far, had not been of any great 
 value, but they satisfied Mr. Raggles, who, 
 however, had become a little more wide 
 awake than he used to be, so that Bul- 
 beck found it to his advantage to visit the 
 places where the horses upon which he 
 had to report were trained. On one
 
 156 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 occasion he had really been present at an 
 important trial, and he was paid well for 
 his information, not only by Mr. Raggles, 
 bnt by two or three book-makers to whom 
 he retailed what he had learned. 
 
 " They will be on the tan, for there's a 
 good bit of frost in the ground," said 
 gipsy Joe, after they had done four miles 
 and had come in sight of the house. Bul- 
 beck assented to this remark with a cold 
 shiver. 
 
 It was a nasty lonely place, he thought, 
 and then the gipsy's grim story of the 
 missing man whose body could be found 
 six feet under ground, came back un- 
 pleasantly to his mind. 
 
 "I'd as soon a'most take to welching 
 again as go on with this game, it's hugly 
 work that's what it is," he said to himself 
 as he scrambled through a gap in a fence 
 and followed the gipsy along a narrow path. 
 
 " Look out where you walk ! There was 
 a cove killed in a man-trap just about 
 here, three years ago," said the gipsy, 
 who took a malicious pleasure in watching 
 Bulbeck's nervous alarm aroused by his 
 anecdotes. They had some little time to 
 wait after they had hidden themselves in 
 some bushes, so gipsy Joe improved the 
 occasion by inventing a blood-hound and 
 fearfully maligning Tom Ring, whom he
 
 A VERY PEACTICAL JOKE. 157 
 
 described as a " reg'lar chip of the old 
 block," and who he said would be a deal 
 crueller than old Abel Ring in a year or 
 two, " gets more and more like the old 
 chap in his ways every hour he do." 
 
 At length in the quiet of the keen frosty 
 morning air, they could hear voices at the 
 stables, and soon a string of eight horses 
 in clothing came through the gateway 
 into the plantation. 
 
 " There's the Captain. He's a cool 'un 
 he is. If he on'y knows we was 'ere," 
 said the gipsy, who was watching with a 
 good deal of interest to see what was going 
 to be done, what farce had been got up 
 for Bulbeck's benefit. 
 
 " Tom Ring's going to ride Clovis, the 
 'oss as ought to have won yesterday. 
 We're goin' to see some' at seemingly," 
 said Bulbeck, who, in spite of his fears 
 began to feel excited and interested, 
 " an' that's the Crier ain't it ? " he queried, 
 as the clothing was stripped off, and 
 Cecil Warleigh throwing off his big coat, 
 got into the saddle. "Ah, I recollect 
 seeing him win a race two years ago at 
 Rugby, there was four entries, I picked 
 the Crier and another for Mr. Raggles, 
 and I gave the other two to a young 
 Hoxford college gent, as I used to put on 
 to a winner every now and again."
 
 1 58 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 Gipsy Joe's eyes glistened. He knew 
 every horse in Tom Ring's stables qnite 
 as well as their trainer. " Would know 
 'em, made into soup," as he put it, and he 
 recognized at once Sir Roland, and he saw 
 what was going to be done for the tout's 
 benefit. 
 
 " That's the winner of this year's big 
 race at Liverpool, there ain't nothink to 
 touch 'im across country. The best horse 
 and the best rider in England," he said, as 
 he peered into Bulbeck's face to see if he 
 could detect any look of suspicion in it. 
 
 " There, you wait a bit and you'll see 
 him leave Clovis and the other as if they 
 were standing still, after they have been 
 round the track about once," he added. 
 
 Clovis, the Crier, and another chest- 
 nut horse, which Mr. Bulbeck had seen 
 win several races at Sandown, broke 
 from a canter into a gallop. The tout 
 had been enough on race-courses to believe 
 that he knew something about horses 
 galloping, and he watched them eagerly 
 as they took the first jump that had been 
 put up on the track. Suddenly his face 
 twitched with excitement, and he clutched 
 the gipsy by the arm, and pointed with 
 a trembling finger at the horse Cecil 
 Warleigh was riding. 
 
 " He's lame ! or I'm going stone blind.
 
 A VERY PRACTICAL JOKE. 159 
 
 He's lame, the Crier's lame ! " Bulbeck 
 gasped out convulsively. 
 
 " What ? lame, the Crier lame ? Go 
 on with yer," snarled gipsy Joe quietly ; 
 then suddenly he said, " Blame me ! my 
 downy cove, if you bain't right though. 
 The favourite for the Grand National 
 lame ! an' if he wins at Liverpool, I'll eat 
 him, tail and all." 
 
 Captain Warleigh had stopped the 
 horse and Tom Ring had got off Clovis 
 and was examining the Crier. They 
 were not fifty yards off, and the tout 
 could hear a volley of expletives in full 
 force, as Tom Ring expressed his opinion 
 that it is a " hopeless case." 
 
 " Stoop down, man, don't let 'em know 
 as we see'cl it ; or there'll be murder 
 done. You've not come to Windmill 
 Lodge for no think gaffer, after all. 
 There'll be some' at o' news for you to 
 send up to the parties as sent yer down." 
 
 Mr. Bulbeck's face showed that he 
 realized the position ; probably no one 
 else would know what he had found out, 
 and that the people connected with the 
 horse would keep its unsoundness dark, 
 so as to save as much of their money as 
 possible, was, according to his way of 
 looking at things, a certainty. He 
 realized that Warleigh and the trainer
 
 160 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 would perhaps make it very warm for 
 him if they knew that he had pryed into 
 their secret. 
 
 " I'm off at once, I can get out into the 
 road without them spotting me, and then 
 I'll hook it off like winking to the village 
 and send a wire up to town. Don't you 
 tell no one, an' I'll see you get a bit for 
 this mornin's work. I'm going to send a 
 wire up to Jimmy Grueby an' one or two 
 more big men in the ring, who will make 
 a lot o' money out of this," said Bulbeck, 
 and without any more ceremony he took 
 himself off. The gipsy watched him till 
 he was well on his way, and then came 
 out of the plantation and walked up to 
 where Cecil and Tom Ring were standing. 
 
 " It's all right, Captain, he's as full of 
 himself as a turkey-cock. He's going to 
 wire up to Jim Grrueby and several others 
 of 'em. May-be the Crier will be knocked 
 out of the betting this morning." Joe 
 Lea was a very good judge of character 
 in his rough-and-ready way, and he did 
 not for one moment believe that Cecil 
 Warleigh was merely playing a practical 
 joke for its own sake in the plot he had 
 carried out so successfully. That morning 
 Bulbeck wired up to London that the 
 Crier was dead lame. Cecil "Warleigh 
 had learned how to telegraph at Wind-
 
 A VERY PRACTICAL JOKE. 161 
 
 mill Lodge in the old days, and as soon 
 as he got back to the house, he sent a 
 message off to a commissioner telling 
 him to take any price he could get over 
 five to one, to any amount, but to take 
 care and not interfere till the horse had 
 been sent down in the betting. Then 
 after an excellent breakfast he went out 
 hunting. Things were looking up with 
 him, and now he almost admitted to 
 himself that he had been tempted to find 
 out what the good thing for the National, 
 which Colonel Beamish had hinted at, 
 really was. Now that temptation would 
 be removed from him, he felt sure that 
 he would be able to get on the Crier at 
 a fairly remunerative price. He had a 
 capital day's hunting, the horse he was 
 on, one of Jack's, carried him splendidly. 
 Nobody bothered him about the Grand 
 National, for he came late to the meet. 
 As he rode home he pictured to himself 
 the state that Mr. Grrueby and some of 
 his brethren would get into after they 
 had received the tout's telegram. No- 
 body else would be very anxious to take 
 the bets they offered, for the notion that 
 there was something wrong would spread 
 like wild fire, and his commissioner would 
 probably get the lion's share of the 
 market. To tell the truth, his conscience 
 VOL. i. m
 
 162 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 never for one moment smote him for the 
 trick he had played. It was quite fair 
 play, he thought. If people sent touts to 
 other men's training quarters it only 
 served them right to be hoisted with 
 their own petard. 
 
 " I doubt if Sir John would altogether 
 like this business. He has rather a strict 
 notion of things," Tom Ring had said to 
 him, looking a little grave and un- 
 comfortable ; but Cecil had laughed at the 
 idea of his nephew going so far in the 
 indulgence of absurd scruples, as to object 
 to a tout's being fooled. Besides, he 
 thought to himself, there was not the 
 slightest chance of Sir John knowing 
 anything about it in time to in any way 
 interfere with his plans being carried 
 out. On coming into the sitting room he 
 found Jack smoking a cigarette. 
 
 " Hullo ! you've come back. Hope the 
 meeting went off well." 
 
 " Well, the dinner went off well enough. 
 I made a speech which seemed to go 
 down, but there was no meeting this 
 morning. Lord Whippenham had to go 
 by an early train," Jack answered, then 
 he hesitated, as if he had something un- 
 pleasant to say. " I say, Cecil, I heard 
 of that business this morning, about the 
 fellow being persuaded into thinking that
 
 A VERY PRACTICAL JOKE. 163 
 
 Sir Roland was the Crier. A gipsy 
 fellow, Joe Lees, an infernally bad lot, 
 came up and told me about it. He 
 seemed to think it a rare joke, quite 
 chuckling over it. I didn't know what he 
 was driving at, at first, but I got it all 
 out of him." 
 
 Cecil cursed inwardly at the gipsy for 
 not keeping his mouth shut, but managed 
 to look fairly pleasant. After all, it 
 didn't much matter so lonsf as the tout 
 had sent his telegram. 
 
 " Oh, it's just a joke, that's all, to 
 teach the fellow that he isn't so sharp as 
 he thinks, in prying about here," he 
 answered. 
 
 " Well, you know it occurred to me that 
 it might be a more serious business: make 
 a sort of mystery about the horse, and 
 send it down in the betting. Now I hate 
 anything of that sort about my horses." 
 
 " Oh, very little harm will be done to 
 any one, and every one will say that if 
 the fellow's employers do burn their 
 fingers, it will serve them right." 
 
 " I don't suppose much harm will be 
 done, but, just to make certain of it, as 
 soon as I got home and I found the horse 
 was as fit and as well as he could be, I 
 sent off some wires to Dargle and to 
 Bamborough, and one or two others. I 
 m 2
 
 164 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 told them that the report of the horse 
 being lame was all nonsense, and that a 
 tout had mistaken another horse for the 
 Crier. I also sent a wire to the Victoria 
 Club to the same effect." 
 
 Cecil did not say a word ; it was 
 creditable to his power of self-control, 
 that he managed to keep silent. 
 
 " I thought it right to do so. I dare- 
 say it was a needless precaution, and that 
 the joke you played would have been a 
 harmless one enough, but the wires I sent 
 can't do any harm." 
 
 " Harm ! No, of course, no harm. 
 You were quite right to do what you 
 thought best," answered Cecil in a 
 dreamy sort of way. As he spoke, a 
 servant brought in a telegram. It was 
 from his commissioner. " Coul&nH get 
 on. The Crier left off at two to one, — 
 taken" was how it ran. 
 
 " I am glad you don't mind," said Jack, 
 " you see I am responsible to a certain 
 extent for anything that goes on here, 
 and I should not like any one to think 
 I did anything at all shady or sharp." 
 
 " No fear of any one thinking that, my 
 dear fellow, not the slightest," and then 
 he relapsed into silence, and was not a 
 particularly cheerful companion for the 
 remainder of the evening.
 
 165 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 m WHICH TWO PEOPLE COME TO AN 
 UNDERSTANDING. , 
 
 A day or two after his interview with 
 Beamish, Cecil went on leave, and on the 
 next Sunday morning he was walking 
 down Piccadilly, towards Kensington. 
 Well dressed and handsome, with that 
 healthy, open-air look about him, which 
 is characteristic of Englishmen who are 
 given to field sports, he seemed to be just 
 the specimen of an English soldier one 
 would desire to point out to the intelligent 
 foreigner. He did not show a care, but 
 looked well-contented with himself and 
 the world in general. On his way he met 
 plenty of men he knew. A great judge, 
 who was walking eastward, brightened 
 up when he saw him. The sight of 
 Cecil reminded him of a week's hunting 
 he had managed to secure that winter, 
 and he shook hands very heartily with 
 him, and said a word or two about the
 
 136 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 sport lie loved better than any other 
 occupation in the world. Dumberly, the 
 barrister, who passed the two as they 
 talked together, looked enviously at Cecil. 
 He knew the judge privately, he was 
 socially Cecil's equal, he had a blameless 
 reputation, was a very sound lawyer, and 
 a rising man ; yet his lordship never 
 showed the slightest pleasure on the rare 
 occasions when he spoke to him. To tell 
 the truth, there was no subject on which 
 the learned judge cared to talk to him ; 
 for a knowledge of case law, a blameless 
 life, and even a neat forensic wit, do not 
 somehow by themselves make an en- 
 gaging companion. Cecil Warleigh was 
 very popular with his seniors, he reminded 
 men of their amusements, and was a good 
 fellow. A distinguished general shook 
 hands with him. A member of the 
 Government stopped to ask him about the 
 chances of the Crier, and wished him 
 good luck ; and several younger men of 
 fashion and position greeted him with 
 much cordiality. 
 
 Yes, he was popular enough, he 
 thought and somehow or other he began 
 to indulge in a very unusual train of 
 thought, as to his position and prospects. 
 Many a man who was rolling in money 
 would give a great deal to enjoy his
 
 TWO PEOPLE COME TO AN UNDEESTANDTNG. 167 
 
 popularity and perhaps envied him. His 
 thoughts took a somewhat abrupt turn 
 when he encountered Colonel Beamish, as 
 he walked in the Park. That gentleman, 
 gorgeously dressed, wearing a very shiny 
 hat, very much on one side of his head, 
 was lighting a large cigar as he strolled 
 out through the park gates. He did not 
 embarrass Cecil with any ostentatious 
 greeting. He only gave a glance of 
 recognition, such a look, thought Cecil, 
 that a pickpocket on business would give 
 to a brother craftsman. 
 
 Yes, if the men who knew him w^ere 
 only made acquainted with the details of 
 that interview he had with Beamish, 
 would they be quite so cordial ? Well, 
 most men had some little passages in 
 their lives, which they would sooner keep 
 hidden. It was a comfort anyhow to find 
 that the Colonel had shown no intention 
 of parading their acquaintance. 
 
 " Confounded impudent beggar, the 
 Colonel," thought Cecil, as he remembered 
 the way the six hundred pounds had been 
 extracted from him. " Still he was a 
 pretty shrewd customer. Wonder what 
 it was at thirties to one, which he fancied 
 so much for the Grand National. 6 Thirty 
 to one,' why a third of that price would 
 not be so bad, if he could manage to get
 
 168 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 it about ' The Crier ; ' but three to one : 
 that was utterly absurd. He had to thank 
 that young fool Jack for the horse being 
 at such a ridiculous price." Leaving the 
 park, he turned off to a street behind 
 Kensington Court, a street composed of 
 small houses, in one of which General 
 Cottingham lived. 
 
 " My father is out for the afternoon," 
 Kate said, as she held out a thin white 
 hand for him to shake. 
 
 " Yes, I know that, I came to see you." 
 
 " I suppose I ought to be nattered, for 
 calls are not much in your line ; but pretty 
 speeches are hardly necessary between us. 
 I think it would have been better if you 
 had stayed away," she answered, taking 
 her seat in a low wicker chair. 
 
 " Well, since I am here, you can listen 
 to what I want to say to you," Cecil said 
 in a low voice, as he looked down into her 
 face, which just then was set and rigid. 
 He longed to see it soften and brighten, 
 as it used to do. Even then there was 
 just a ghost of the old look in her eyes. 
 She had never fascinated him so much. 
 The loose dress of some soft white 
 material clung to her tall, graceful figure, 
 and became her well. There was an un- 
 wonted flush which added to the delicate 
 charm of her pale face.
 
 TWO PEOPLE COME TO AN UNDERSTANDING. 169 
 
 " Well, what have you come to say ? " 
 she asked in a calm, emotionless tone. 
 
 For a second, Cecil looked into her face, 
 as she leant her head back over the chair, 
 something like a mocking smile flitted 
 over it. Then before she could guess 
 what he intended to do, he seized and 
 held her head back, and leaning down, 
 kissed her, again and again, on the lips. 
 For a second or two she seemed not to 
 struggle, then she tore herself from his 
 hands, and springing to her feet, said : — 
 
 ' ' How dare you insult me so ? leave the 
 room." 
 
 Cecil stood silent for a few minutes, 
 looking ashamed of himself, then 
 suddenly — 
 
 " It isn't the first time, you know ! " he 
 said. 
 
 " You coward, you contemptible coward, 
 to say that to me ! Now, I am glad that 
 you came here to-day, for now I know 
 how brutal you are, and I feel ashamed as 
 I ought to be, that I could ever have 
 cared for you." 
 
 " I couldn't help it, Kate ! by the Lord, 
 I couldn't. It was the way you looked up 
 at me, and I remembered how things once 
 were. I was a fool then and never knew 
 how much I loved you, but you've had 
 your revenge. I care more for you now
 
 170 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 than ever you cared for me. And you 
 laugh at me. You were laughing at me 
 down at Fetchester, the other day when 
 you were carrying on with Jack." 
 
 " I had something more to think of, 
 than laughing at you," she answered. 
 
 " You were thinking of landing that 
 young fool. Don't you think you might 
 tell me what you mean doing there ? " 
 
 " I don't know what right you have to 
 ask me ; but I'll tell you. If that ' young 
 fool ' as you call him — because he is gene- 
 rous, unsuspicious and honest — asks me to 
 be his wife, I shall accept him. Now, say 
 that you'll prevent it. Yes, I know that 
 you were going to say that ; you look so 
 ashamed of yourself." 
 
 " Hang it all, I'm not such a bad lot as 
 you seem to think me. No, I shan't try 
 to prevent it. I was a fool when I gave 
 you up. By G-eorge ! I believe you feel 
 the same to me. I love you a hundred 
 times better now than I did then. You 
 would have chanced it then. Why 
 shouldn't you now ? Why shouldn't we 
 get married ? With you for my wife, I'd 
 get on somehow.' 
 
 " I ought to feel honoured at your 
 offering to marry me. I should live in 
 barracks, and we should have your pay, 
 and what you could pick up at cards and
 
 TWO PEOPLE COME TO AN UNDEESTAND1NG. 171 
 
 by riding races. Or you might make a be- 
 ginning by going through the Bankruptcy 
 Court, and having to leave the Army," 
 she said, breaking out into a laugh, but 
 there was a note of sadness in it. 
 
 " By George ! You've altered since the 
 old days," Cecil said, staring blankly at 
 her. 
 
 " Yes, I have," she replied, "I learned 
 my lesson in the old days. You taught 
 it me. Don't you remember insisting how- 
 stupid it would be for two paupers like 
 ourselves to get married ? In those days, 
 if you had been a trooper, I would have 
 followed the regiment, to be your wife. 
 You were right, and I know it now. I 
 was a fool, young as I was, not to know 
 that what meant everything in life tome, 
 then, was only amusement for you." 
 
 " Well, I loved you all the time, only I 
 was fool enough not to know how much. 
 You are not as hard as you make out. 
 Look me in the face, and say you don't 
 care one bit for me, and I'll believe it." 
 
 For a moment she seemed resolute 
 enough to have said it. All at once she 
 broke down. 
 
 " No, Cecil ; I can't say that. I do care 
 for you ; very much indeed, almost as 
 much as I did when I was a foolish girl, 
 though not in quite the same way. I
 
 172 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 know your character better than I did 
 then. If you were different, I would 
 gladly enough marry you as you are, 
 without your having a penny ; though 
 Heaven knows I have no sentimental 
 notions about despising money. I know 
 the wretchedness of being without it ; but 
 I daren't trust you, Cecil. I should know 
 that when you felt what it is to be hope- 
 lessly in debt, you would be sorry for it ; 
 and that would make me miserable." 
 
 "Well, anyhow, Kate, I know you do 
 care for me, and if it were possible, you 
 would marry me. We'll wait. Give me six 
 weeks, and who knows whether it won't be 
 possible. Promise me you won't accept 
 Jack before then." 
 
 " What chance can there be, Cecil ? It 
 is cruel of you to play with me like this. 
 But for the time you mention it shall be so. 
 After that there shall never again be any 
 agreement or contract between you and 
 me." 
 
 Cecil walked back to his chambers in 
 Bury Street, choosing a path across the 
 Park where he was not likely to meet any 
 one he knew. 
 
 He had known Kate since she was a 
 long-legged little girl, running about 
 Barracks, when she could get away from 
 her governess. She had not, perhaps,
 
 TWO PEOPLE COME TO AN UNDERSTANDING. 173 
 
 had the advantage of a very careful 
 bringing up. General Cottingham's 
 marriage had not been a very auspicious 
 one. It arose out of an elopement, and 
 only became possible after a decree 
 nisi. 
 
 Kate's mother died when the child was 
 but sixteen, and after that she was sent 
 to school. It was two years afterwards, 
 when Cecil, some ten years older than 
 Kate, declared that they had both made 
 fools of themselves, as he called it to her 
 face. Perhaps Kate had been, of the 
 pair, more in earnest, though Cecil was 
 harder hit than he thought for at the 
 time. He certainly had not taken long 
 to come to his senses. A serious flirtation 
 with General Cottingham's daughter 
 would be in many respects dangerous. 
 
 Sohehad, not over mercifully, shown the 
 folly of any sentiment to poor Kate, who 
 was made very miserable, while he had set 
 himself down to forget all about it. And 
 after all, in the end he found himself the 
 weaker of the two. Their positions were 
 reversed. She talked w r orld]y prudence, 
 and he gnashed his teeth while he watched 
 her flirting with Jack. 
 
 " Jack ! Confound him, who has every- 
 thing he wants, and is always in the way," 
 Cecil thought, and then he began to spe-
 
 174 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 culate as to what his life would have been if 
 he had married her, when she was so des- 
 perately fond of him. Being hard up, and 
 all that sort of thing, was bad, but he 
 knew that he would now give a good 
 deal to have the lot he had then been 
 afraid of. His circumstances were not so 
 desperate then, and he might have pulled 
 up, and got on very well, and still, after 
 all, she loved him. Yes, for all her self- 
 restraint, she had not been able to help 
 showing it. He began to think of his 
 circumstances, his debts, his very doubtful 
 prospects, and the short period of grace 
 which Kate had reluctantly promised him. 
 He was conscious of what he had 
 thought when he persuaded her to make 
 that promise, and his reflections led him 
 to Colonel Beamish and the conversation 
 they had had together after his game at 
 cards with Haggles. 
 
 " Depend upon it," Cecil thought, there 
 was something in the Colonel's notion of 
 the chances of an outsider for Liverpool. 
 He was a pretty wide-awake gentleman, 
 was the Colonel, and he had a very con- 
 siderable respect for the judgment on turf 
 matters of Mr. Kit Lukes, his confederate 
 and ally. Yes, it seemed the only game 
 on the cards. Perhaps it was hard on 
 Jack, but then Jack had brought it on
 
 TWO PEOPLE COME TO AN UNDERSTANDING. 175 
 
 himself by not keeping his mouth shut, 
 and being so infernally in the way. 
 
 The outcome of this train of thought 
 was that Cecil went to his club and wrote 
 a letter to Colonel Beamish. He did not 
 post it just then, but put it into his 
 pocket. A characteristic little circum- 
 stance was that he removed from the 
 blotting-pad the sheet of blotting-paper 
 upon which he had blotted the letter 
 and envelope, and tore it up into many 
 pieces.
 
 176 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 DOWNHILL. 
 
 A strong tinge of sport hangs abont 
 Tankard's Hotel, Little Paint Street, 
 Haymarket. The waiters at this hotel 
 do not require to look at a time-table 
 when they are asked by the guests as to the 
 trains to Newmarket ; for a fair proportion 
 of the inhabitants of that trim little 
 Cambridgeshire town put up at Tankard's 
 when they visit the metropolis. Many of 
 the guests have a healthy, open-air look 
 about them, which suggests Newmarket 
 Heath before breakfast, and lives devoted 
 to the race-horse in training. Jockeys 
 and trainers affect Tankard's, so do a 
 select circle of the ringmen. In fact, it 
 is a great resort of the professionals of the 
 turf. 
 
 The night porter habitually wears a 
 troubled expression. It is caused by his 
 in vain tryingf to reconcile the various 
 items of turf information which he obtains
 
 DOWNHILL. 177 
 
 " straight " from the most reliable quar- 
 ters. He knows a deal too much, what 
 with what one party and another tells him. 
 This is his sad complaint on the mor- 
 row after some classic race. 
 
 " The party as owns the winner" he will 
 say, " was a staying here three weeks 
 ago, and one night, when he comes home 
 a little in liquor, he begs an : implores me to 
 back it. ' Pogson,' he says, ' whatever you 
 does, and whatever you leaves undone, 
 have a good bit on ' my horse.' But 
 bless me, there I goes and lets a party 
 from Stockbriclge talk me into bavin' all 
 my little bit o' money on the favourite. 
 I hear so much from so many different 
 parties, that it drives me nearly wild." 
 
 The smoking room at Tankard's is a 
 well known resort of turfites. Of an 
 evening the conversation at most of the 
 tables relates to racing. The coppers 
 given to the waiters, as a rule, help to 
 make up the modest little sum for which 
 they back the opinion they have formed 
 after tips from various gentlemen who 
 use the room and ought to know some- 
 thing. When they bring the whiskies 
 and water, and the gins and soda, which 
 are great drinks at Tankard's, they will 
 indulge the guests with mysterious con- 
 versation about parties who " got on at 
 
 VOL. t. N
 
 178 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 sidy -sixes and stood it all without 
 hedging a penny piece." 
 
 There is one white-haired old gentle- 
 man, sometimes joined by a friend, who 
 uses the corner seat of the corner-box 
 near the fire, who is said to be allured by 
 the excellence of the brandy and water, 
 though he had the utmost detestation for 
 the turf and all who follow it. Certainly 
 he never joins in the conversation on the 
 subject, and when he hears it being 
 carried on in his box, a look of disgust 
 comes over his face. It is a favourite 
 jest of the choice spirits of Tankard's to 
 impart information on future events to 
 him, which he will receive with contempt 
 and loathing — or to treat him as one, 
 who if he only cared to talk, could unfold 
 turf secrets which would make the 
 fortunes of the room. Tankard's was 
 much affected by Colonel Beamish. He 
 was thoroughly at home in the society to 
 be met there. He belonged to a Club, a 
 proprietary institution, owned by a spe- 
 culative and frequently bankrupt wine 
 merchant, which had a committee of well 
 known names, who had never been inside 
 the door of the Club, and a list of 
 members which included the flower of the 
 sixty-per-centers and various great men 
 in Israel, who it is said would meet there
 
 DOWNHILL. 179 
 
 on their Sabbath, to compare notes as to 
 whose paper was out. But Colonel 
 Beamish found himself far more at home 
 at Tankard's. Kit Lukes, the lawyer, 
 occasionally looked in there, and he would 
 meet the book-makers and money-lenders, 
 who formed the bulk of his legal connec- 
 tion. 
 
 About a week after that game of poker 
 which ended so disastrously for Mr. 
 Haggles, Mr. Lukes and the Colonel were 
 there, and at the same table sat another 
 man with whom they were talking in a 
 low tone with considerable earnestness. 
 Their companion was a man whose ap- 
 pearance at first sight was decidedly in 
 his favour. There was a look of good 
 breeding about the well-cut features of 
 his thin face, and a grace in his long 
 lithe limbs, in the slight tilt of his well 
 made billycock hat which bore signs of 
 much weather, and in the cut of his suit 
 of homespun, there was a strong sugges- 
 tion of the stable, but for all that one 
 would feel but little doubt that he was a 
 gentleman by birth. As one grew accus- 
 tomed to his looks they did not improve. 
 That good-looking face would meet your 
 gaze straightly enough, but a doubt of 
 his honesty grew upon one, though one 
 recognized that he had plenty of pluck. 
 N 2
 
 180 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 As he talked to Lukes and Beamish, the 
 pleasing, happy-go-lucky expression he 
 usually wore, altered to one of annoyance, 
 and he seemed to be anything but best 
 pleased with his companions. " Hang it, 
 I tell you I can beat the Crier," he was 
 saying. " It is not a certainty, but it's 
 the next best thing to it. And yet here 
 is Lukes without the pluck to risk it. 
 We shall never have a better chance, nor 
 one where we can win so much money. 
 Half the men in town are crazy to back 
 the Crier. Gad ! I'd like 'em to see the 
 little mare coming in first. Whose is it, 
 they will ask, and they'll be told it's Pat 
 Considine's, Lord Dargle's brother, whom 
 they have thought fit to cut any time 
 these ten years. Dargle will be wild. 
 He's going to back the Crier, hang him. 
 I hope it will break him. The last time 
 I met him was at Mallet's Hotel, in the 
 coffee-rocm, and seeing me he said, ' Come, 
 clear out, Pat, this room's not big enough 
 for me and you. Co and get a drink in 
 the sort of company you're fit for,' and 
 he threw five shillings on the table, just 
 as if I were a groom ; I'd like to have 
 knocked the teeth down his throat, curse 
 him." 
 
 " But you didn't, Pat, and you stuck to 
 the five shillings, I'd like to back the 
 double event," said Mr. Lukes.
 
 DOWNHILL. 181 
 
 " No, faith, I saw he'd have liked me 
 to have thrown it back at him, and 
 felt he was spending too mnch in 
 insulting me. It's not often one gets 
 any coin out of Dargle, but the book- 
 makers will, if we only beat the Crier. 
 He'll be hit hard, and so will many 
 another man I hate ; but there you 
 won't risk it." 
 
 " ' I bide my time,' that's some swell's 
 motto. I saw it in the Peerage the other 
 day. By George ! it's a precious good 
 one for the turf. I wait till it's a 
 certainty, if I have to wait another two 
 years," said Mr. Lukes. 
 
 " I am of Pat's way of thinking," said 
 Beamish. Another year ! Why, where 
 mayn't we all be in another year ? Dead 
 or in prison." 
 
 " Speak for yourself, Colonel. For a 
 distinguished military man, you have a 
 curious way of talking," answered Mr. 
 Lukes. " I shan't be dead, I hope, and 
 I certainly shall not be in prison, unless 
 the company I keep deteriorates my 
 character a good deal." 
 
 " Dashed if I don't run my horse 
 though, and if you don't think it good 
 enough, back something else. I shan't be 
 any the less pleased to win on that 
 account," said Pat, paying no attention 
 to Lukes' remark to his partner.
 
 182 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 " Suppose tlie horse comes in second to 
 the Crier," answered Lukes, " good-bye to 
 the chance of ever bringing off a big 
 coup. No, you won't do that, Pat, my 
 boy, for you see, she isn't altogether 
 yours." 
 
 " Pat, my boy ! It's a nice state of 
 things when you talk like that to Lord 
 Dargle's brother. But I'll get out of 
 your hands, Mr. Lawyer Lukes, settle that 
 bill of sale, and then it won't be ' Pat, my 
 boy,' to me from you." 
 
 " Better be called Pat by me than 
 number so-and-so by a warder at Port- 
 land," whispered Mr. Lukes, with a 
 malicious twinkle in his eyes. " If you 
 get out of my hands, may-be you'll get 
 into worse," he added aloud. " Why 
 ain't we in the same boat ? Do you think 
 it any great hardship to have to give in 
 to Kit Lukes' opinion on a matter like 
 this ? Ask the cleverest man you know 
 on the turf whether it is." 
 
 " You may be clever enough, Kit, but 
 we are not in the same boat. I want to 
 win some money at once. Who knows 
 what may happen in a year? The mare 
 may have gone wrong, and she will never 
 be as fit as she will be in a month's time. 
 You'd be of my opinion if you'd ridden 
 her as I have," said Pat.
 
 DOWNHILL. 183 
 
 " I say you're both right. ■ Dash "down 
 the money at once and make a certainty 
 of it," said Beamish. " Now, I've a 
 notion." 
 
 " We'll hear it when you're sober, 
 Colonel," said Lukes, kicking at Beamish 
 under the table. " Well, I can't make 
 up my mind what we'll do. But we'll be 
 down at Broxton to-morrow evening, and 
 next morning we will see what Blue Ruin 
 can do, so you had better ke^p straight 
 and fit." 
 
 " If I were your trainer instead of a 
 man of family, who owns a racehorse, you 
 couldn't be more arbitrary. But I say, 
 how are you fellows off for chips ? I was 
 not able to draw some coin to-day ; and I 
 want a fiver to take me down to Broxton." 
 
 " Three sovs. will have to do you," said 
 Lukes, giving him the coin, and entering 
 the amount in his pocket-book. 
 
 The Honourable Pat fingered the coins 
 in his pocket and then made a hurried 
 adieu. 
 
 " Mind you get home soon and look 
 after yourself and Blue Ruin," said Lukes, 
 as Pat left. " Not much chance of his 
 staying away long though, with only three 
 sovs. to spend," he added to Beamish who 
 was glaring at him angrily. 
 
 " What do you mean by speaking to
 
 184 JACK WAKLEIGH. 
 
 me like that, before Pat Considine, 
 * Wait till Tm sober.' Indeed, it's lucky 
 for you I am sober. I'd have taken a 
 fancy to see what a lawyer with the 
 life-half-knocked-out-of-him is like." 
 
 " A devilish dangerous customer even 
 then you'd find. But never mind your 
 bluster. I didn't want you to talk before 
 him. I thought may-be you were going 
 to say something that it would be as well 
 not to say before Pat." 
 
 " I wonder you trust that man as you 
 do. You're about the only man on the 
 turf who would." 
 
 " I trust him, though he would take 
 any one else in, but he daren't be 
 crooked Avith me. I've got a hold over 
 him. Not only that I could have him 
 warned off the turf. Pretty nearly 
 every one knows that much about him. 
 But there's something more awkward. 
 That's the sort I like to deal with. I 
 trust them." 
 
 " You'd like to have such a hold 
 over me, wouldn't you ? asked Beamish, 
 looking into the other's fat face. " But 
 
 by you'd find it dangerous if you 
 
 had. I'd sooner be in the condemned 
 cell than in your power." 
 
 " Talk sense, man ! What were you 
 going to say just now ? "
 
 DOWNHILL. 185 
 
 " I was going to say that if the 
 Crier could be made a ' stiff 'un,' we'd 
 have as good a chance this year as 
 ever." 
 
 " And who is he to be ' got at ' 
 through ? " asked Mr. Lukes with a sneer. 
 " Sir John Warleigh or Tom Ring, his 
 trainer ? " 
 
 " Not the owner or the trainer, but 
 what would you say about the rider ? " 
 
 " Captain Warleigh ! Why, that you 
 didn't know your man. What on earth 
 makes you think you could come to terms 
 with him ? " 
 
 " Well, it happens I do know my man. 
 I know a good bit more about him than 
 any of his swell friends do. And I know 
 he won't stick at a trifle." 
 
 " But ' stopping ' the horse he rides 
 for the Grand National and letting in 
 Sir John, who I happen to know has 
 been a very good friend to him, is a good 
 bit more than a trifle. No, Colonel, I 
 don't believe he'd do it. You don't quite 
 understand what it is for a man like that, 
 who has a character to lose, to do a 
 thing of that sort. It's just a leetle too 
 strong." 
 
 " Perhaps you'd be surprised to hear 
 what I do know about the Captain. It's 
 between pals, Kit, now listen to this."
 
 186 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 And Beamish, with considerable satis- 
 faction, related the story of the game of 
 poker. 
 
 Mr. Lukes listened attentively. " "Well, 
 I always thought he was a pretty shrewd 
 customer, but never knew he'd go quite 
 that length. Still, rooking a young ass 
 like Raggles is one thing, and letting in 
 Sir John and all his swell friends who 
 are backing the horse, is another. If he 
 does, he'll want to get a good lot out of 
 
 " He'll set your mind at rest about 
 that — Hullo ! a letter for me. Shouldn't 
 be surprised if it is from him — By 
 George ! I'm right — it is," said the 
 Colonel, as he tore open a letter the 
 waiter brought him. " Well, what do 
 you say to that ? Read it." 
 
 " Wants to see you — will be in his 
 chambers, Bury Street, to-night after 
 eleven — or any other evening. H'm ! 
 well, it looks like business. Strike while 
 the iron is hot, Colonel. Go and see him, 
 and if there's business in it, he can come 
 down with us to-morrow, and see what 
 Blue Ruin can do." 
 
 " He won't like meeting you and Pat ; 
 he will feel a little shy at first." 
 
 " He'll have to get over his shyness 
 as far as I'm concerned, that's all I've
 
 DOWNHILL. 187 
 
 got to say. When I do business of that 
 sort, I treat with the party in person. 
 As for Pat, he need not see him or know 
 anything at out it. Put - it to him pretty 
 short : that if he sees his way to 
 working with us, he can come down to 
 Broxton to-morrow, and have a look at 
 the mare. As you two are old pals, I'll 
 keep out of it at present ; but if it comes 
 to business, he'll have to arrange matters 
 with Mr. Christopher Lukes, solicitor, 
 and there must be no nonsense." 
 
 " All right, my limb of the law, I'll do 
 the suaviter in modo. Last time I had 
 to touch him up a bit with the fortiter in 
 re, and I think you'll allow, Mr. Kit, that 
 I did know my man. By George ! when 
 I saw him rooking that young flat, I was 
 thinking all the time of the favourite 
 beat at Liverpool, and the Honourable 
 Pat on little Blue Euin, coming in 
 alone," said the Colonel, as he swaggered 
 off, thinking that he had taught the lawyer 
 that he was not to be sneered at as a 
 confederate. 
 
 Cecil Warleigh's chambers suggested 
 that their owner had tastes somew^hat 
 superior to those which he would have 
 been credited with. There were several 
 very good engravings on the walls. A 
 statuette or two on brackets, that must
 
 183 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 liave cost a deal of money : while on the 
 book-shelves, among sporting works and 
 French novels, there were some books 
 on history and politics, and a classical 
 author or two, which told that he now 
 and then indulged in hard reading. 
 
 Cecil was sitting back in an arm- 
 chair, smoking a cigarette, with a soda 
 and brandy on a table by his side, to 
 which he had frequent recourse, as he 
 nervously watched the clock. 
 
 " He may be here soon," he said to 
 himself. " If he got the note he wouldn't 
 be long coming, for he seemed anxious 
 enough to get me into his clutches ; 
 confound him ! " Just then there was a 
 knock at the door, and an attendant, to 
 whom he had given strict orders that 
 he was " not at home " to any one but 
 Colonel Beamish, announced that gentle- 
 man. 
 
 " "Well, Captain, so the youngster 
 weighed in all right with his cheque. 
 And now you want to know how to invest 
 it ? Don't see your way to popping it 
 clown on the Crier at seven to four ? " said 
 the Colonel, after the servant had left the 
 room, and he had mixed a brandy and 
 soda. " You think there's a better game 
 than that, eh, my young sharp ? " he went 
 on.
 
 . DOWNHILL. 189 
 
 Cecil winced at the other's manner, but 
 did not show his disgust. " It depends 
 upon whether there is anything else worth 
 backing. Two to one is a short price. If 
 there had not been so much talk, it 
 wouldn't have been anything like so 
 short." 
 
 " Sir John will learn some day, that if 
 he opens his mouth on the turf, he will 
 have the gold taken out of his eye teeth. 
 But as for whether there is anything else 
 worth backing. If you are game for a 
 trip down to Broxton, you shall see what 
 you shall see, and after that, we will have 
 a bit of a talk." 
 
 "Whom shall I meet there?" asked 
 Cecil. 
 
 " No one except me and Kit Lukes. 
 Not another soul need know you've been 
 down there. You can drop down by 
 Newspaper train, and get back to town 
 again before Friday." 
 
 " Kit Lukes ! " said Cecil in a tone of 
 aversion, for something seemed to tell him 
 that dealings with that gentleman were 
 dangerous. 
 
 " Yes, Kit Lukes, you and me. There 
 will only be three of us regularly in the 
 swim," said Beamish. 
 
 " It is a nice partnership for a gentle- 
 man to join ! " said Cecil, half inclined at
 
 190 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 the last moment to give the whole thing 
 np. 
 
 The Colonel laughed merrily. 
 
 " You'll find it a fairly profitable one, 
 and we keep our mouths shut." 
 
 " Well, I didn't send for you to make a 
 fool of you, I will come down all right," 
 answered Cecil. 
 
 When Beamish left, Cecil sat for some 
 hours smoking and staring into the 
 fire. Promises of youth that had come 
 to nothing — temptations that had been 
 yielded to — shady transactions that had 
 escaped punishment, and ceased to trouble 
 him — such memories as these passed 
 across his memory. Bah ! what did it 
 matter ? How many of the men who 
 would cut him if he were found out, would 
 really think much the worse of him if 
 they found out what he was going to do 
 and were certain that no one else shared 
 the secret ? What would nine out of ten of 
 them do? Why, lay against the Crier, 
 keep their mouths shut, and remain his 
 very good friends.
 
 191 
 
 CHAPTER XVn. 
 
 ON THE HAMPSHIKE DOWNS. 
 
 " Theee is the winner of the Grand 
 National, Captain Warleigh, and it's not 
 been quoted in the betting but once or 
 twice, and that at forty to one. The 
 Honourable Pat Considine's Blue Ruin, 
 they call her, but I don't mind saying 
 that she is practically owned by your 
 humble servant and our friend Beamish." 
 Kit Lukes had pulled up his dog-cart 
 under Broxton Hanger, so as to get some 
 shelter from the wind which swept keenly 
 across the stretch of Hampshire Downs. 
 From where they were they had a good 
 view of the private steeple-chase course 
 which Mck Holmes had put up near 
 his stables. A string of horses were 
 being walked across the flat between the 
 stables and the course, while over the 
 crest of the Down a man on a horse had 
 come in sight, to which Lukes pointed 
 with his whip as he spoke.
 
 192 JACK WAELEIGH 
 
 It was only eight o'clock on a winter's 
 morning, but the lawyer had on his com- 
 pany manners. The role he played on 
 such occasions was that of a hearty John 
 Bullish, frank fellow. His manner, how- 
 ever, was wasted on Cecil Warleigh, who, 
 huddled up in a huge ulster, looked moody 
 and out of spirits. 
 
 " Pat Considine ! The less one has to 
 do with that young gentleman the better. 
 I don't want to meet him," growled 
 Cecil, and he pushed a soft hat he was 
 wearing further over his face. 
 
 " So you don't like Master Pat ? I am 
 afraid he is not quite the clean potato ; 
 perhaps though he's not so black as he's 
 painted ; but he's sure not to see you." 
 
 That Pat Considine, whom he had cut 
 years before, should know that he was 
 mixed up with such characters as Beamish 
 and Lukes ! And the prospect of being 
 welcomed as a chum and confederate by 
 him seemed worse even than to be cut 
 and shunned by honourable men. 
 
 " Well, he can ride, I will say that for 
 him," said Cecil. Then continuing — " So 
 Blue Ruin is the wonder ? I fancy I have 
 seen her before : at Sandown, I think, 
 last year, but she hasn't done anything 
 lately." 
 
 " No, and won't till she brings off a big
 
 ON THE HAMPSHIBE DOWNS. 193 
 
 cup. I have the management of her. 
 You'll see presently how smart she is. 
 One can't try 'em across country as you 
 can on the flat, but those fences ain't so 
 unlike what she'll have to negotiate at 
 Liverpool : while as for the difference of 
 the ground, that'll all be in favour of the 
 mare. She takes to l plough ' wonder- 
 fully." 
 
 " Hullo, there's the tout-eater," said 
 Beamish, who was in the back seat, as 
 they heard the baying of a big hound 
 coming from the direction of the stables 
 at the foot of the hill. "That's the 
 brute they kicked up the row about. He 
 ate a good bit of a horse-watcher, who 
 was hiding in the furze yonder, waiting 
 to see a trial." 
 
 " Yes, and they had to pay the widow 
 and orphans a good bit of money ; but 
 it paid 'em in the end. None of 
 the touting fraternity have much to say 
 about Nick Holmes' lot," answered 
 Lukes. 
 
 " What's Holmes got out to-day ? 
 Jack Shepherd and Old Clo. Hang me, if 
 I don't love Jack. I've won a lot by him 
 one way and another." 
 
 " Most of it in another ," said Beamish, 
 alluding possibly to the occasions when 
 that horse had been laid against by his 
 
 vol. I. o
 
 194 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 own party — and the two partners joined 
 in a laugh. 
 
 Cecil felt that they were making no 
 stranger of him. He hardly relished the 
 compliment. 
 
 " He's a good horse though, and fit as 
 a fiddle. Young Holmes is on Jack 
 Shepherd. Now, you'll see what Blue 
 Ruin is made of. She goes over her 
 fences like a cat," said Beamish, after 
 Pat Considine had come up to the others, 
 and they had started together at a good 
 striding pace. 
 
 " She is smart, uncommon smart," said 
 Cecil through his clenched teeth, as he 
 watched the gallant little grey mare, Jack 
 Sheppard and Old Tom. 
 
 " Well, Captain, that is our trump 
 card," said Kit Lukes, coming back to 
 the dog-cart and hoisting himself in. 
 " They're at level weights this morning, 
 but Blue Ruin is in the National at 
 10 st. 7 lbs., and what would they say to 
 Jack Shepherd at 11 st. ? I fancy that 
 he'd have a very fair chance." 
 
 " Not against the Crier, he wouldn't," 
 said Cecil. 
 
 " Well, Jack ain't first chop, but he's 
 pretty near as good as anything else, bar 
 Blue Ruin and the Crier. .See there, the 
 mare is a different class altogether."
 
 ON THE HAHPSHIBE DOWNS. 195 
 
 Neither of them spoke, but watched 
 the horses intently ; but Cecil's thoughts 
 to a certain extent even then dwelt on the 
 plot that he was required to take part in. 
 He saw how good the mare seemed to be, 
 he realized the grand coup that could be 
 brought off, if the Crier was not to win. 
 
 Kit Lukes every now and then took a 
 stealthy glance into his face, as if he 
 would tell what he was thinking of. 
 " Look at her now, why, Jack Sheppard 
 can't make her gallop." 
 
 " Now they have done three miles," 
 cried Beamish, as the horses galloped by 
 them for the third time : Blue Ruin with 
 a lead of some three lengths. " And 
 mind you, she's in at 10-7 lbs. ; Pat can 
 ride that weight, and next to yourself 
 he's as good as any one." 
 
 " Better. If he wouldn't be up to any 
 of his tricks," said Cecil, and then he 
 looked rather uncomfortable, as he 
 thought that he wouldn't have much 
 right in the future to cast the stones 
 which he had been in the habit of throw- 
 ing at that not over-reputable young 
 gentleman. 
 
 " Pat doesn't try his tricks with me," 
 answered Lukes rather grimly. 
 
 " You are right, she's smart enough, 
 better fencer than Jack Sheppard, and a
 
 196 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 lot faster," remarked Cecil as the little 
 mare finished some dozen lengths in front 
 of the others. 
 
 " And she's hardly been mentioned in 
 the betting," said Beamish. 
 
 " And now the sooner we get to work 
 at the breakfast I've ordered at the 
 Station Hotel, the better I shall be 
 pleased. This morning air makes one 
 feel as if one could pick up a crumb," 
 said Mr. Lukes, as he turned the horse 
 round and drove off at a brisk pace. 
 
 The landlord had, as Mr. Lukes said, 
 done very well for them : and they sat 
 down to a very excellent breakfast in 
 the snug coffee-room, embellished with 
 coloured engravings of some of the 
 great race-horses that had been trained 
 on the far-famed Downs of which there 
 was a fine view from the window. Even 
 Cecil, who was inclined to be moody and 
 disconsolate, felt a good deal better after 
 some capital trout, a rasher of bacon, 
 some fresh poached eggs, and a plate of 
 pigeon pie. 
 
 " Bless me, what a good fellow I should 
 be if I only lived in the country, and ate 
 a breakfast like this every day of the 
 week ! I feel at peace and charity with 
 all men," said Mr. Lukes, after he had 
 filled his pipe and poured out a glass of
 
 ON THE HAMPSHIEE DOWNS. 197 
 
 sparkling home-brewed ale. " And now, 
 Captain Warleigh, we'll talk business," 
 and as he spoke his whole manner 
 altered. " I take it, Captain, that you 
 mean business, and are willing to work 
 with us for the Grand National ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do mean business, that is, if 
 you think this Blue Ruin is good enough 
 to win," replied Cecil, and as he spoke a 
 feeling akin to relief came over him. He 
 was in for it now. He, Cecil Warleigh, 
 was working with Beamish, the mysterious 
 colonel, and Kit Lukes, the shady turf 
 lawyer. From henceforth they were to 
 be his accomplices and allies. It was 
 true that he would go on living in the 
 same society of men of honour and 
 gentlemen ; but he would really belong 
 to the other side, and be with, not of the 
 men he saw most of. 
 
 " Well, she's certain to beat any, bar 
 yours. I believe it's a rare good thing, 
 and she's at 33 to 1." 
 
 Warleigh looked steadily into the 
 lawyer's face. Cunning low scoundrel 
 though he knew he was, he was a rare 
 judge of racing, and though he would 
 have poisoned the best horse that ever 
 was foaled, he had the instincts of a 
 sportsman, though he could not often 
 afford to indulge them.
 
 198 JACK WAKLEIGH. 
 
 " Pat Considine says she'll beat tlie 
 Crier at the weights, she's only got lOst. 
 71b. to carry. I think she can beat any- 
 thing bar the Crier. Now the question 
 is, can we lay the Crier ? " 
 
 " What can we hope to make out of 
 it ? " asked Cecil, answering one question 
 by another. 
 
 Kit Lukes went into figures. Cal- 
 culating how much they could lay against 
 the favourite, and how much they could 
 back the outsider for. 
 
 " We could get about twelve thousand, 
 say, out of the Crier, for it is a good- 
 betting race, and could back Blue Ruin to 
 win — say, thirty thousand, nibbling at her 
 a little, and putting a lump on at the start. 
 Pat Considine would want a little, and 
 we could divide the rest. Say, twelve 
 thousand apiece." 
 
 " Six thousand is more than Pat Con- 
 sidine has had for a long time," said 
 Cecil — " and mind he knows nothing 
 about my being in this." 
 
 " Nothing — not that you need be afraid 
 of master Pat Considine talking about my 
 business. And now, Captain, let's look at 
 the other side. How much we stand to 
 lose ? Before I execute this commission I 
 would like to have some sort of security 
 that you don't forget all about the
 
 ON THE HAMPSHIRE DOWNS. 199 
 
 arrangement when it comes to the 
 race." 
 
 " Hang it all, don't you trust a gentle- 
 man ? " asked Cecil. 
 
 " Wot to go straight in a swindle," 
 answered Lukes, and then followed a little 
 confidential talk about securities, and 
 authority in writing being given to 
 Lukes. It ended in Cecil Warleigh 
 knowing that he had hopelessly given 
 his honour away, and would have to do 
 Kit Lukes' work, or be ruined in pocket 
 and reputation. 
 
 " Hullo ! Warleigh, my boy, fancy 
 meeting you. And what has brought you 
 into this part of the world? " said a voice 
 in a suppressed Dublin brogue, from the 
 corner of the first-class carriage into 
 which Cecil jumped, after having taken 
 leave of Lukes and Beamish at the hotel ; 
 those worthies deeming it better to wait 
 for the next train to avoid any chance 
 of meeting people whose suspicions might 
 be aroused by seeing them together. 
 And Cecil had gladly fallen into this sug- 
 gestion. 
 
 In the owner of the voice which had 
 addressed him, he recognized a Dr. 
 Buckeen, at one time the doctor of the 
 Loyal Lancers : who having married the 
 opulent widow of a gin-distiller, had left
 
 '200 JACK WAEL1IGH. 
 
 the Army Medical Staff, and gone on the 
 turf. 
 
 Cecil did not answer the question, 
 but settled himself into the corner of the 
 carriage. 
 
 " And what brings you down to Brox- 
 ton?" asked Buckeen. "Is it Pat 
 Considine you have been giving a look 
 up?" 
 
 " I have not the honour of Mr. Pat 
 Considine's acquaintance," replied Cecil. 
 
 " Ah, well, I'm afraid he's a shocking 
 young blackguard. Many is the time 
 that Dargle, with tears in his eyes, has 
 told me what a sorrow Pat has been to 
 him. We are like brothers, Dargle and 
 me. In fact, I'm a kind of cousin of 
 his. But where have you been ? Have 
 you been having a look at Nick Holmes' 
 lot?" 
 
 Cecil grunted out a negative as he lit a 
 cigar. 
 
 " Ah, now I thought I caught sight of 
 that beggar Kit Lukes and Beamish — 
 6 Colonel ' he calls himself — but I'm think- 
 ing he's not a colonel at all. You hadn't 
 been with them, I suppose ? " 
 
 " What the deuce has that to do with 
 you ? " Cecil began to blurt out, but at 
 once realized that showing temper would 
 only make Buckeen suspicious that there
 
 ON THE HAMPSHIRE DOWNS. 201 
 
 was something going wrong : so lie 
 finished his reply more amiably by saying 
 that it was Beamish that he had seen at 
 the hotel, and he believed that Kit Lukes 
 was with him. " I believe they train with 
 Nick Holmes," he added. 
 
 " 'Deed they do," said Buckeen, " and 
 talking about training, what are you 
 going to do at Liverpool ? . . . As an 
 old friend, ought I to back the Crier ? " 
 
 " I'd like to see you back it, to win you 
 a pot of money. I'm well on, myself ; 
 got on at good odds," said Cecil ; the first 
 part of his speech being far more true 
 than the second. 
 
 Dr. Buckeen expressed his thanks, and 
 then as the train slackened speed, he got 
 his things together, and to Cecil's delight 
 prepared to jump out at the next station. 
 
 When Cecil was left to himself he 
 laughed aloud. He lit another cigarette, 
 inhaling the smoke, and blowing it out 
 of his mouth again, in a succession of 
 rings. 
 
 Some of Cecil's friends noticed that he 
 was rather excited that day, and a story 
 was wildly told of his having backed the 
 Crier for a large sum a day or two before, 
 when the horse had gone down in the 
 betting. He spoke about the race more 
 unguardedly than he usually did. The
 
 202 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 Crier was a wonder. A giant in the days 
 of dwarfs. A horse that could have held 
 his own in the palmy days of cross-country 
 racing. He had backed it for all he could 
 afford. In fact for a little more. " He 
 would have to lay some of it off," he told 
 several men. 
 
 " I have never seen Warleigh like this 
 before. I fancy he has taken an extra 
 glass or two of champagne at dinner," 
 said Brown to Jones at the club. 
 
 " Fancy he has backed it for more 
 than he can afford to lose. But I shall 
 have my modest bit on," answered Jones. 
 
 And in consequence of Cecil's talk, a 
 good deal of money went on the Crier. 
 
 There was a ball given that evening 
 by the wife of a man who had been in 
 his regiment. Balls were not much in 
 his line as a rule, but at half -past eleven 
 Cecil jumped into a cab and was driven to 
 Kensington. 
 
 There were a good many of his brother 
 officers, and plenty of other men he knew 
 in the room, and it was all the same story, 
 — " How about the Crier ? " 
 
 Cecil answered as a man does who is in 
 a position to do his friends a good turn. 
 It was as near a certainty as a steeple- 
 chase could be. It was a short price, 
 two to one, but short odds was better than
 
 ON THE HAMPSHIEE DOWNS. 203 
 
 losing, and he did not seem to see how 
 the Crier could lose, provided he stood 
 up. 
 
 " You think it good enough for me to 
 have my last hundred on. I shall be dead 
 broke, if it doesn't come off," said Brookes 
 of the regiment, a reckless young subal- 
 tern whom he had always rather liked. 
 
 " I have never known anything seem 
 such a certainty. All I have in the world 
 is on it," said Cecil. 
 
 Poor young Brookes, he was sorry for 
 him, but if he wanted anything to be 
 made public property, the best thing he 
 could do would be to tell it to him. And 
 he did want it to be published that he 
 had a lot of money on the Crier. 
 
 But it was not to talk about the Crier 
 that he had gone to Mr. Barrington's ball, 
 a proceeding which was rather out of his 
 way as he did not generally go much into 
 society. 
 
 Standing in the doorway, he watched 
 the dancers and saw Kate Cottingham 
 and Jack, standing talking to each other. 
 They neither seemed to be very energetic 
 dancers, but appeared to have a great 
 deal to talk about. " She's able to twist 
 the young ass round her fingers. She's 
 not the prettiest girl in the room by a 
 long bit ; in fact, she's hardly pretty at
 
 204 JACK WARLEIGfl. 
 
 all," he thought as lie watched the chang- 
 ing expressions of her face, and the smile 
 play round the lips, which now looked so 
 enticing, and then would become hard 
 and rigid. 
 
 " What the deuce is it about her that 
 constitutes the charm ? " he asked himself. 
 And yet for all his thirty years, his ex- 
 perience, and his far more accurate know- 
 ledge of her character, he knew that she 
 could make a bigger fool of him than of 
 his nephew. A few minutes afterwards 
 he was sitting out a dance with her. Of 
 coarse her card was full, and equally of 
 course she found no difficulty in giving 
 him the dance he wanted. 
 
 " Why did you come here to-night.? 
 There seems to be a fate in it. In another 
 half hour everything would have been 
 settled. I felt it was coming, and then, 
 before T saw you, I seemed to know that 
 you were here, and then it was of no 
 
 use." 
 
 " Then I am glad I came as soon as T 
 did, Kate. You said the other day that 
 you'd chance it, and take me. I am 
 going to claim your promise." 
 
 " Cecil, are you in earnest ? But I 
 remember I made a condition." 
 
 " You said, Kate, that if I could show 
 you that I could pay my debts and start
 
 ON THE HAMPSHIRE DOWNS. 205 
 
 with five hundred a year of my own, you'd 
 chance it. Never mind how, but in a 
 month's time I shall have got enough for 
 that." 
 
 " Cecil, I'm sure it will end miserably, 
 as I daresay we deserve it should : but T 
 am happy," she whispered, looking into 
 Cecil's face as they walked back into the 
 dancing-room ; and as he felt the pressure 
 of her fingers on his arm, and drank 
 in the yearning look of her eyes, he 
 felt that she was worth risking anything 
 for.
 
 206 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIT. 
 
 GRUB STREET. 
 
 Mr. Bings, the landlord of the Blue Boar, 
 a public-house in the Bloomsbury district 
 of the metropolis, has often expressed his 
 opinion to the effect that genius, though 
 all very well in one who has not got to 
 make a living by it, doesn't sit very well 
 on a poor man. 
 
 " There's a deal too much of it hanging 
 about my house, bless yer, the time was 
 when I'd listen to the jaw of the parties 
 as use my best bar, and get took with it 
 to the extent of almost asking 'em what 
 they'd take to drink. I'm about sick on 
 'em now. They stand up and jabber 
 away about po'try or 'istry, or politics or 
 anythink, and take a couple of 'ours over 
 one 'arf pint, awaitin' all the time for some 
 one to drop in and stan' 'em drinks, till 
 at larst they'd 'ook it off in disgust, an' 
 go to bed, leastwise. them as had beds to 
 go to. No, genius is a loafin' lot, and 
 that's the long an' the short on't."
 
 GBTJB STKEET. 207 
 
 Mr. Bings probably somewhat over- 
 estimated the mental gifts of certain of his 
 customers whom he had found in his bar 
 when he first took the house, and whose 
 patronage he continued to keep, though 
 he had become by no means jealous of it. 
 His house was one of call for a section of 
 the outside fringe of literature. 
 
 Grub Street, we are told, is a thing of 
 the dead past. 
 
 A few hours spent at the " Blue Boar " 
 might possibly suggest that, somewhere or 
 other, that locality could still be found. 
 A nice snug little dinner with Mr. Gripps, 
 the proprietor and editor of various peri- 
 odicals with a large circulation, should 
 that highly respectable gentleman take 
 — as he sometimes did — enough port wine 
 to make him confidential on the subject of 
 how the publishing business can be made 
 to pay, would throw further light on this 
 interesting point. Mr. Gripps is as rigid 
 an adherent to the doctrine of supply and 
 demand as any Whitechapel sweater. 
 
 He believes in getting the article his 
 public will read, on the lowest possible 
 terms. 
 
 " Sometimes I pays nothink, but gene- 
 rally I gives 'em a bit ; it's cheaper in the 
 end to pay a bit ; anyhow one has to pay 
 one's printer, and a little money paid to
 
 208 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 a hauthor 'elps tlie circulation. They come 
 to me, and I looks at their stuff and sees 
 how much there is, an' makes a bargain 
 with 'em, and then and there pays up. It 
 don't make no great hole in the profits, 
 what I gives 'em, but it's everything to 
 them poor devils, an' it's a charity to pay 
 up at once." 
 
 He is not a highly educated man, is Mr. 
 Gripps, but he knows one Latin proverb, 
 " Bis dat qui clto dat" He beats his con- 
 tributors down to their lowest figure, and 
 then tempts them by the offer of ready 
 money to take half. 
 
 A good many men who haunt the bar 
 of the "Blue Boar" have dealings with 
 Mr. Grripps, and a large proportion of the 
 money he chucks to his authors finds its 
 way into Mr. Bings' till. They write 
 original stories, which they find in 
 volumes of forgotten magazines at the 
 library of' the British Museum. They 
 patch together scientific articles and moral 
 essays, and before now, tempted by the 
 thought of half-crowns which Mr. Gripps 
 jingles in his pockets as he bargains with 
 them — some of them have brought and 
 sold to him really good work. To do Mr. 
 Gripps justice, he has always on such rare 
 occasions been quite ignorant of the 
 value of what he bought so cheaply ; in
 
 GRUB STREET. 209 
 
 fact he has never had any other ambition 
 than to get the indifferent matter he 
 wants, at its lowest possible price. There 
 are some who do not even work for 
 Mr. Gripps. How they live is a London 
 mystery. You may see them at the 
 British Museum dully droning over books 
 they never really read, thinking, it is to 
 be hoped for their sakes, of nothing at all 
 but perhaps — heaven help them — of the 
 hopes they once cherished, and of the 
 friends who once believed in their ability 
 and their future, but have since turned 
 their backs upon them. 
 
 This last class, strangely enough, are 
 those of whose genius Mr. Bings has, in 
 a way, as high an estimate as he has a 
 low one of their eligibility as customers 
 to a publican. 
 
 Sam Paradine had for years been a 
 constant frequenter of the " Blue Boar," 
 and was perhaps the only one of the set 
 for whom the landlord still retained much 
 respect. Mr. Bings would sometimes not 
 only ask him what he would have, but he 
 has been known to lend him a few shil- 
 lings, and even to go as far as to let him 
 stand in with him in some turf transaction, 
 to the extent on one occasion of half-a- 
 sovereign. " He's capital company is 
 Mr. Paradine," the landlord would say to 
 
 VOL. i. v
 
 210 JACK WAR LEIGH. 
 
 his wife, " and has a powerful sight of 
 hinformation ; " the only pity was that he 
 didn't seem able to do much with it all. 
 And on this he and his better half were 
 agreed, for Mrs. Bings — who was even 
 more opposed than her husband to the 
 "literary tone" of the " Blue Boar," 
 woman-like, being keenly alive to the 
 shabby wearing apparel, doubtful linen . 
 and constant impecuniosity of the gentle- 
 men who came there — made an exception 
 of Sam, whom she admitted was " a very 
 pleasant-spoken gentleman." 
 
 There was a corner of the bar to which 
 he had gained a prescriptive right where 
 he would sit with his old high hat tilted 
 forward, and his hands — when they were 
 not lifting the glass — pushed deeply into 
 the pockets of his trousers. He was sitting 
 there one afternoon when there was a 
 gathering of some of the leading members 
 of the "Blue Boar" set. 
 
 There was no appreciative stranger 
 present, and in consequence the meeting 
 gazed sadly at empty pint pots and glasses, 
 and Mr. Bings behind the bar eyed them 
 with an unconcealed contempt. 
 
 " Say what you like," said one of the 
 party — a young man some years younger 
 than the others, who had only just taken 
 to the " Blue Boar," and hadn't realized
 
 GEUB STREET. 211 
 
 how hopeless he had thereby made hi? 
 chances of doing any good ; for a moral 
 dry rot hung about the place, as sewer 
 gas does in the hotels of some conti- 
 nental health resorts, — "it is a noble am- 
 bition to appeal to thousands of readers, 
 to write for the masses, and to cheer their 
 toilsome lives." 
 
 " To talk dashed nonsense ! Look here, 
 youngster, keep that sort of rot for the 
 next tea-party at Peckham Rye you are 
 asked to, and don't talk it to us, till you've 
 been through the mill, as we have. No 
 sir, the one regret of my life is not that I 
 went to grief in the army — that was a 
 moral certainty all along, and I had my 
 fling — but that afterwards I took to writ- 
 ing, instead of billiard-marking, and didn't 
 find out what a rotten game it is, until 1 
 had held a pen so long, that I had for- 
 gotten how to use a cue. I wish I had 
 taken to anything else, driving a hearse, 
 going as a mute, any dashed thing ! " said 
 a shabby man with a twisted gray mous- 
 tache, who was attempting to re-light the 
 end of a cigar. 
 
 " It's a case of drinks round, Green, my 
 boy," said Sam Paradine, regarding the 
 young man with a look of reproach. 
 " You can't expect to talk like that to us 
 unless you hire the hall." 
 p 2
 
 212 JACK WAKLEIGH. 
 
 The youngster felt in all his pockets 
 and looked nervously around. 
 
 " Ah ! if that's what's the matter, my 
 boy, we'll excuse you, and if you can get 
 much comfort out of talking rot, and 
 thinking rot, hanged if I grudge it you," 
 said the man with the twisted moustache. 
 Then there was silence, and Mr. Bings 
 cleared away the glasses. 
 
 " Tommy Rogers' story is in the number 
 of ' The Bohemian' that came out to- 
 day," said the young man who had first 
 spoken. " I saw it at a News-room." 
 
 " How much of it is there now ? pages, 
 I mean," said a man with a mouth like a 
 pike, who sat leaning on the bar, chewing 
 the end of a match. 
 
 " About twenty, I believe," said the 
 young man, somewhat perplexed at the 
 interest which his questioner took in 
 such a minor point as the exact length of 
 their mutual friend's production. The 
 man chewing the match got up, growling 
 out a " Good-bye," and left the room. 
 
 " You are a flat, Grreen. Why on earth 
 should you blurt it out before that fellow 
 Bolster ? Why, as soon as he hears it, he's 
 off to hunt up poor Tommy Rogers, and 
 you bet he'll find him. He'll find out if 
 he has been to the office to draw his 
 cheque, and if he hasn't, he will hang
 
 GRUB STREET. 213 
 
 around till he comes. They pay the day 
 the story appears. He don't know much 
 about literature, does Mr. Bolster, but 
 he knows that much, and he's always 
 hanging about on pay-day," said Cap- 
 tain Bashford, the military gentleman. 
 " Tommy will draw a tenner, and Bolster 
 will probably borrow a sovereign, and 
 prevent Tommy coming in here. Con- 
 found him." 
 
 " Tommy is getting on. Let's see, 
 ' The Bohemian ' is one of the things old 
 Gripps has, isn't it ? " asked Sam Para- 
 dine. " I've forgotten what things the 
 old beggar does own, it's a long time 
 since I did any work for him." 
 
 " Yes, you've quite cut scribbling, 
 Sammy, better luck for you, if you can do 
 anything at your new game." 
 
 " There's a fortune in it," answered 
 Sam with an air of assurance, which 
 quite took Bashford, for it seemed so real. 
 " If," he added mournfully, " I could get a 
 capitalist, some one with just a little money 
 who would finance a real good thing. 
 
 The expression of interest faded away 
 from the faces of those present. They 
 knew of so many fortunes which were 
 sticking out for the poor capitalist, — plays 
 which could be brought out, which would 
 secure unprecedented success ; notions
 
 214 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 to be carried out for newspapers, which 
 must succeed from the very first ; books 
 that could be published which must take 
 the town by storm ; and many other ven- 
 tures in literature, journalism, and art. 
 
 "It's a book, you know, ' Old Families,' 
 or something of that sort we'd call it, and 
 we'd invent pedigrees for all the subscri- 
 bers to the work, and then we'd go into 
 the other's pedigrees and pull 'em to bits, 
 and expose all the humbug of the thing ; 
 as one who has the making of pedigrees, 
 like I have, can do. Subscribers could 
 have the privilege of correcting anything. 
 Mark my words, there's a pot of money in 
 it." 
 
 " Been almost played out, I fancy. 
 Besides, people don't care about pedigrees 
 nowadays. Look at me, I am the head 
 of one of the oldest families in the West 
 of England, and Bings there won't give 
 me a pint of beer on tick." 
 
 Bings paid no attention to this 
 remark. 
 
 " There is money to be made out of 
 pedigree-hunting for all that, though 
 very little of it has come my way yet. 
 It's better than writing for Gripps. 
 Then there is my other game, mining 
 in the Record Office." 
 
 " How do you work that, Samuel ? "
 
 GRUB STEEET. 215 
 
 " Well, you know, there are thou- 
 sands of pounds in Chancery. Most 
 of it will never come out, for though it 
 belongs to some one or other, no one can 
 find out to whom, or else there are 
 such a lot to divide it, that it wouldn't 
 pay expenses. But money has been got 
 out before now. I take my case very 
 much as the gold-digger takes his claim, 
 with very little to tell me whether it is 
 likely to prove payable or not. I get the 
 papers at the Record Office, and try to 
 find out if there are any representatives 
 of the parties alive who have a right to 
 it." 
 
 " Have you got much out, Sammy ? " 
 
 " No, up to date we've drawn blank. 
 Either I couldn't make head or tail out of 
 the papers, or I couldn't find representa- 
 tives, or there were such a lot of them, 
 that the fund came to about half-a-crown 
 all round, but I've worked up rather a 
 promising looking case just now. A 
 little fund of 2000Z., and matters appear 
 to be fairly plain-sailing." 
 
 " Very nice little fund. "Wish I had as 
 many pence. Well, I suppose Tommy 
 Rogers won't be coming in here," said 
 Bashford, as he lounged into the street. 
 
 Sam Paradine gave the fortunate 
 Tommy Rogers another ten minutes or
 
 216 JACK WAKLEIGH. 
 
 so, and finding further waiting useless, 
 made his way into the street, bound 
 for the reading-room at the Record 
 Office ; where he was soon immersed in 
 some faded old law papers, the records in 
 the forgotten administration suit of Smith 
 v. Matterson.
 
 217 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 DIGGING IN THE EECOED OFEICE. 
 
 It had happened that after Sam's smash 
 at Oxford, a relation, who was a pros- 
 perous London solicitor, had given him a 
 chance, by taking him into his office as a 
 clerk, with a promise of giving him his 
 articles, if he conducted himself with 
 propriety there. 
 
 The chance had come to nothing. Sam 
 entered on his new duties with consider- 
 able enthusiasm. He had gone pretty 
 straight for some months, but at the end 
 of that time he had broken out again. 
 The dissipations open to a lawyer's clerk 
 with very little money in his pocket, were 
 humbler than those of an undergraduate 
 — with that almost unlimited credit 
 which confiding tradesmen, in Sam's 
 time, gave to nearly every member of the 
 University. But such as they were, Sam 
 adapted himself to them. In that way 
 he had always shown great adaptability.
 
 218 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 The consequence was that Sam and his 
 prosperous relative had parted. The 
 latter only consented to make the trifling 
 loan which, on his dismissal, Sam, with a 
 fine sense of making the best use of 
 every one, had asked for, on the distinct 
 understanding that he should never see 
 or hear of him again. 
 
 After that, he had tried various ways 
 of making a living. He had written 
 stories for a cheap magazine, articles for 
 papers of various views, poetry for an 
 advertising tailor, original sermons for an 
 ambitious young clergyman, who hoped 
 to become a popular preacher ; and did so, 
 though he had no brains, and only a fine 
 voice and a good presence to work with. 
 He had " just not succeeded " again and 
 again. Once he almost got a berth as a 
 political lecturer, and he had shown him- 
 self to be a very fair speaker, but an 
 unfortunate occasion came, when he was 
 to speak at a country meeting, and an 
 enthusiastic politician had invited him to 
 dine that evening. He had proved 
 capital company at the dinner, his speech 
 at the meeting had been the cleverest he 
 he ever made, but it was devoted to 
 ridiculing and answering a somewhat 
 pompous oration made by the chairman 
 for the evening, who was a very im-
 
 DIGGING. IN THE KEC0ED OFFICE. 219 
 
 portant local big-wig, and the corner- 
 stone of party organization in the district. 
 That was the last engagement he ever got 
 from either political party. Again and 
 again he would get something like regular 
 employment ; now as a tutor, now on the 
 staff of a newspaper, but it always ended in 
 his returning to the library at the British 
 Museum, with empty pockets, and no fixed 
 work. A series of articles he had written 
 for a provincial paper on County Annals, 
 had made him think of writing about pedi- 
 gree and family history. Thanks to his 
 erudition and imagination, several gentle- 
 men of large fortunes are at this moment 
 able to hang up a luxuriant family tree 
 in their smoking-rooms or libraries. 
 
 This pursuit lead to his finding his 
 way to the Record Office, and there 
 he had first heard and thought of the 
 funds in Chancery, and had begun to try 
 to make some use of his smattering of 
 law, in unearthing some treasure from 
 legal dust-heaps. 
 
 There were a good many others 
 engaged in the same pursuit, — people of 
 both sexes and all conditions ; some 
 professionals, like Sam ; others who 
 believed themselves to be personally 
 entitled to funds. Some of the latter 
 have orown old in the Record Office,
 
 220 JACK WAKLEIGH. 
 
 turning over musty pages, searching for 
 some document which they have taught 
 themselves to believe would complete their 
 case, and entitle them to a share of the 
 fund. If they left off the search, that 
 years since has become hopeless, they 
 would have nothing left to live for. A 
 bent, elderly man, a thin, grey-haired 
 woman, a young man, and a girl, 
 make up one family group. The elders 
 have grown grey, their children have 
 grown old, in the vain search. The 
 attendants know them as well as they 
 know the room itself, but do not know, 
 nor does any one else, what the fund 
 is to which they think they have a 
 claim ; or how they hope to prove it. 
 Father, mother, son and daughter, have 
 the same blurred look in the eyes, arising 
 from constant poring over the indices to 
 the names of suits. They must have 
 gone a hundred times over every name, 
 though there are huge bookcases full of 
 nothing but these indices. Now and then, 
 once a month or so, they will send for 
 some record, and they will seize with 
 wolfish glee upon the faded parchment 
 that the attendants bring them, and their 
 faces will light up with joy, and they will 
 spend days in deciphering and pondering 
 over the crabbed old writing, until the
 
 DIGGING IN THE EEC0RD OFFICE. 221 
 
 hopeful looks fade away from their faces, 
 and they go back to their endless hunt 
 through the indices. 
 
 Among the professionals, there are 
 spruce lawyer's clerks, who know exactly 
 what they want, and where to get it, who 
 hurry in, ask for their record, copy it, and 
 go away again. There are others, who, 
 like Sam, choose a case, and then hunt it 
 up, on the chance of dragging something 
 out of Chancery, and being paid salvage. 
 Young and middle-aged women, who are 
 paid, either by lawyers or antiquarians, 
 to hunt up records, are at work there. 
 One, a pretty girl, of perhaps twenty 
 years, makes quite a good living by 
 copying records. Her soft blue eyes 
 having grown so familiar with the 
 crabbed legal writing, that she can read 
 off easily the work of even the most illegi- 
 ble of dead and gone clerks-in-chancery. 
 
 Sam Paradine sometimes looks at these 
 young women, and thinks how hard it 
 goes with girls who have to work for a 
 living, and wonders how his sister Nelly 
 likes being a governess. 
 
 For once in his life, Sam Paradine had 
 been fairly lucky. The case of Smith 
 versus Matterson appeared to be sim- 
 ple. At the end of the last century, 
 Matterson, the husband of the defendant
 
 222 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 in the case, had died in debt. His estate 
 in land had been administered by the 
 Court of Chancery, on the petition of 
 Smith, a creditor. There had been a 
 surplus, after paying the debts, which 
 was the fund in court. The case was 
 clear, and what made matters more hope- 
 ful was that Sam had not found much 
 difficulty in tracing at Somerset House 
 the representatives of Matterson, down to 
 a Mr. George Matterson of Brighton, 
 who had died some thirty years before, 
 leaving two daughters. The family 
 appeared to have gone down in the 
 world, for Mr. Ceorge Matterson described 
 himself in his will as a " Licensed 
 Victualler," and appeared to have been 
 landlord of the Regent's Head, Brighton. 
 " Those girls or their representatives, are 
 entitled to the snug little fund of two 
 thousand pounds," thought Samuel to 
 himself, as he finished making his notes 
 on the papers in the case, which seemed 
 clear enough ; and ten per cent on two 
 thousand pounds meant two hundred 
 pounds, and that seemed very little for 
 the man who had worked the whole thing 
 up, to ask. Sam thereupon indulged in 
 a splendid day-dream of what he could 
 do if he only had two hundred pounds. 
 He would go down into the country, and
 
 DIGGING IN THE EECOED OFFICE. 223 
 
 work steadily, and by the time he had 
 spent the two hundred pounds, he would 
 have earned more than that sum. But 
 between him and the realization of that 
 dream there were several obstacles. It 
 entailed a journey to Brighton, and that 
 would cost something. Sam fingered the 
 few shillings in his pockets, which was 
 all he had just then, and wouldn't be 
 enough to take him down there. Then, 
 as he walked away down Fetter Lane to 
 Fleet Street, he caught sight of Tommy 
 Rogers. 
 
 " We saw your thing is in ' The Bohe- 
 mian.' Capital, every one says it is ; 
 congratulate you my dear old boy. Look 
 here, old chap. You've only got to stick 
 to it, and there's a big fortune before 
 you. We shall have you living in a 
 house across the park, and setting up 
 your . carriage before long. Why not ? 
 I say. Dash it all, that story of yours 
 is better than anything Blank does, 
 and he's making his two thousand a 
 year. — Look here, old man; I s'pose 
 you drew your cheque to-day. Now, like 
 a good fellow, could you — " 
 
 " No, Sam, my boy, I drew it in advance, 
 ever so long ago. All I got to-day was 
 three numbers of the magazine, which I 
 sold for fourpence each, and I've spent the
 
 224 JACK WATILEIGH. 
 
 shilling," answered Rogers. " I was going 
 to ask you if you could — but I s'pose it is 
 no good ? " 
 
 " Well, I'm blowed ! " said Sam, mourn- 
 fully ; then he burst into a laugh as he 
 thought of Bolster waiting outside the 
 office of the magazine ; and he described 
 to Tommy what would take place. " And 
 what makes it so cruel is that I've a 
 capital good thing on, if I could only raise 
 a pound or so." 
 
 " Yes, it's hard luck. I daresay half 
 the people who read that story of mine 
 to-day will think what a clever chap the 
 fellow who wrote it is, and what pots of 
 money he must be making. And here I 
 am ; by G-eorge ! but look here, Sam, I 
 thought you were fairly flush by your 
 looks. You have got 'em in your jaw 
 still." 
 
 " By Jingo ! so I have. One gets so 
 used to having 'em, that, believe me, I'd 
 never have thought of it, if it hadn't been 
 for you ; but it seems rather hard to have 
 to pawn one's teeth in order to get a 
 dinner, but they ain't much good if one 
 hasn't anything to eat with 'em." 
 
 In his palmy days Sam had had his 
 front teeth knocked out in a town and 
 gown row. They had been replaced by a 
 set of artificial ones which were set in
 
 DIGGING IN THE RECOED OFFICE. 225 
 
 gold. Several times before now, Sam 
 had walked about for months with empty 
 jaws. But as of late, pedigree-hunting 
 had proved fairly remunerative, he had 
 not found it necessary to part with them, 
 and he had grown so accustomed to have 
 them in his mouth again that he had 
 forgotten all about them as an available 
 asset. 
 
 It was a happy thought of the wily 
 Tommy Rogers to remind him of it ; so 
 without any more words, Sam put his 
 hand to his mouth, extracted the work of 
 art-dentistry, and, with shrunken jaws, 
 slipped round the corner and into the 
 nearest pawnbroker's. Returning to his 
 friend, they repaired to the shelter of a 
 friendly public-house. 
 
 Sam now had enough funds to dine, get 
 down to Brighton, and have a few shillings 
 left for possible needs. 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 SAM STRIKES A REEF. 
 
 As lie sat in a third-class carriage, bound 
 for Brighton, with his toothless gums 
 pressing against a black clay pipe, Sam 
 Paradine indulged in a pleasant forecast 
 of his future. His luck, at last, seemed 
 to be turning. It might be rather difficult 
 to find out anything about the children of 
 Mr. George Matterson, of the Regent's 
 Head, but the chances seemed in his 
 favour. If he did find them, surely he 
 might make a bargain that would be 
 very much to his advantage. For years 
 he had never had enough money in his 
 pocket to enable him to look beyond the 
 immediate future. As a rule he had 
 never quite known where his next week's 
 rent would come from. How he had 
 lived at all was a mystery ! But only 
 make him secure and comfortable for a 
 week or two, and he would turn out some 
 good work, that would surprise every one ! 
 Landed at Brighton, he felt a sense of
 
 SAM STE1KES A EEEP. 227 
 
 depression. After all, his quest might 
 turn out a snare and disappointment. 
 
 It was with nervous hands that he 
 turned over the pages of a Brighton 
 directory, which he borrowed in a public- 
 house ; and he experienced a feeling of 
 relief, when he found that the Regent's 
 Head still existed. The appearance of the 
 'Regent's Head made him more hopeful. 
 It was an old-fashioned, quiet-looking 
 house, with none of the glitter of plate- 
 glass of the modern gin-palace ; and 
 when he walked in he noticed that 
 behind the bar there was a snug little 
 parlour, in which there were old-fashioned 
 pictures of coaching and racing scenes, 
 and a stiff portrait of the member for 
 Brighton of a by-gone age. The furni- 
 ture and pictures in the parlour must 
 have been pretty much the same in the 
 Mattersons' time. It was just the place 
 about which the memory of a former 
 proprietor would cling and mellow in 
 an atmosphere of hot grog and long 
 clay pipes. There was an arm-chair, 
 which he felt certain was occupied of 
 an evening by some old fellow who 
 had used the room for half a century, 
 and probably had been godfather to one 
 
 of the daughters of the George Matter- 
 ed o 
 
 son, deceased. Behind the bar was a 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 buxom personage, fair, fat, and consider- 
 ably over forty, whom Sam at once put 
 down as the landlady. She brightened 
 up when Sam made his inquiries. 
 
 " Know anything of the Mattersons ? " 
 Why, she could remember, like as if it 
 were only yesterday, the day old Mr. 
 Matterson died. She was a barmaid at 
 the Regent's Head in those days, and ' 
 afterwards had married the new land- 
 lord. She then went on to describe 
 exactly where she was standing serving 
 a gentleman with a hot brandy-and- 
 water, when Sarah Matterson as was 
 came up sudden to her, and told her that 
 Mr. Matterson was gone. 
 
 " And the Misses Mattersons, do you 
 happen to know where they are ? " asked 
 Sam, after he had let her thus run on. 
 
 " That, sir, I don't ; leastwise Susan is 
 in 'eaven, but Sarah I have never seen 
 but once since she married, and that 
 was just-by-chance-like in London, and 
 mighty stuck-up and 'aughty she seemed 
 to be, 'cause she'd married a gentleman. 
 But for all that, not happy-looking, and 
 if it came to changing places with 'er, 
 for all 'er pride, I'd have said ' No thank 
 yer.' " 
 
 "Sarah married?" said Sam, taking 
 out his note-book, "'To whom, and where 
 was she married ? "
 
 SAM STRIKES A EEEF. 229 
 
 " She was married at the old church 
 round the corner, and she was married 
 to a Captain Warleigh of the Lancers. 
 An' very proud she was to catch a fine 
 gentleman like that. It was quite a 
 story, such as one reads about in a novel. 
 The Captain, he quartered at the barracks 
 here, and Sarah, after 'er father died, 
 lost the little money that was left 'er, 
 and came back to 'elp behind the bar ; 
 and I don't deny but what she brought 
 custom, though perhaps not of the kind 
 we wish. Well, once or twice when I 
 was out with Sarah, we meets the Captain 
 a-ridin' at the head of his soldiers, and 
 she'd always talk about him, 'ow 'and- 
 some he was, and 'ow like he was to 
 parties she'd read about in her story- 
 books — for she was a terrible gal to read. 
 She always had it even then, that the 
 'andsome Captain a-ridin' at the 'ead of 
 his troop, took particular notice of 'er, 
 though I never paid no attention to 'er, 
 and thought it all rubbidge. But sure 
 enough, after the regiment went away, 
 the Captain comes back agen, and 'eavy 
 swell though he was, he comes to our 
 place, day after day, a-drinkin' sherry 
 wine and a-courtin' Sarah. I kept on 
 telling 'er to mind what she was doing ; 
 and she says ' I know what I'm about,' 
 and so she did, for it ended in his
 
 230 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 marryin' 'er, fair and honest, at St. 
 James' Church round the corner, as I 
 saw with my own eyes, and as you can 
 see in the parish register, if you care to 
 go and see it." 
 
 Sam seemed to remember the name Cap- 
 tain Warleigh, but it had no particular 
 associations in his mind. Anyhow, his 
 wife, or widow, if she were alive, would 
 not be very hard to find. It would, he 
 thought, be well worth while to have a 
 look at the parish register. Mrs. Butun, 
 the landlady of the Kegent's Head, 
 remembered the date of the wedding, 
 by the date of the birth of her eldest 
 son, a considerable proportion of whose 
 infantine biography Sam was treated 
 to, before he was allowed to leave in 
 quest of the register. Having obtained 
 access to it, he found the entry he was 
 looking for without much difficulty. 
 
 " John Warleigh, second son of Sir 
 George Warleigh, baronet, of Warleigh 
 Park," was the name of the bridegroom. 
 
 When he left the vestry Sam went into 
 a bookseller's shop and borrowed a 
 " Baronetage." When he turned to the 
 title Warleigh he gave a low whistle of 
 astonishment. " It is my old luck," was 
 his first thought. Sarah Matterson, who 
 married John Warleigh, Captain of the
 
 SAM STEIKES A EEEF. 231 
 
 — th, would probably not be so easy to 
 find after all, for in the " Baronetage " 
 Captain John Warleigh, of that regiment, 
 was stated to have married six months 
 after the date of the entry he had just 
 seen. It also stated that he married 
 " Helen, daughter of the Rev. Percy Dal- 
 ton, Rector of Saint Paul's, Fetchester." 
 " Looks rather fishy that," thought 
 Sam to himself, as he remembered the 
 landlady's story of having seen Sarah 
 Matterson, who married Captain War- 
 leigh, a year after his marriage. Rather 
 an awkward business it looked for Captain 
 Warleigh. Well, he was dead and gone, 
 but how about Sir John Warleigh, present 
 baronet, the son of the aforesaid Captain 
 Warleigh, who had succeeded on the 
 death of his cousin, the late Sir George 
 "Warleigh, and whom, Sam noticed, had 
 been educated at Fetchester Grammar 
 School ? And how would the discovery 
 affect Sam Paradine ? Well, first of all 
 it looked as if Sarah Matterson, who, by 
 the register in St. James' Church, had 
 become Mrs. TTarleigh, would not be 
 found very easily. The two hundred 
 pounds he had settled upon, as the price 
 for restoring the fund to its owners, seemed 
 to fade away to nothing, and leave him 
 sans teeth, sans everything except two or
 
 232 JACK WABLEIGH. 
 
 three odd shillings. On the other hand 
 he was in possession of a secret that was 
 undoubtedly worth money to some one. 
 
 " Cecil James, a captain in the Loyal 
 Lancers, the youngest son of Sir Greorge 
 "\Yarleigh, the sixth baronet," for in- 
 stance, might be very much interested in 
 that entry in the register of St. James' 
 Church. Sam felt that his position was 
 somewhat like that of a gold-digger, who 
 has come across a rich quartz reef, which, 
 though of great value, wanted capital to 
 work it. 
 
 G-oing back to the Regent's Head, he 
 made a few more inquiries about Sarah 
 Matterson. The landlady was certain 
 about the dates of the occasion when she 
 had seen Sarah in London. 
 
 " I had been to London," she said, " for 
 a day with Mrs. Crow of the Three Crowns, 
 to a Licensed Victuallers' Fete, at the 
 Crystal Palace, when, who should she come 
 across — sudden-like — near Charing Cross, 
 but Sarah Matterson as was. She didn't 
 seem pleased to see us, and when I 
 asked her how she got on with the Cap- 
 tain, she answered very short-like, and 
 calls a cab, gets into it without asking 
 after Butlin, nor the baby, as she 'ad often 
 nursed, nor nothin'. And Mrs. Crow — 
 a woman as I never liked, and don't ac-
 
 SAM STEIKES A KEEE. 233 
 
 quaint with now — she says to me, ' Your 
 old friend Sarah didn't want to have no 
 more to do with you now — she is one of 
 them as prosperity doesn't agree with.' 
 If prosperity ailed Sarah, it's a sort 
 of thing I don't want, for she looked 
 worn and unhappy lookin', for all her 
 pride; though the Captain's lawful wife 
 she was. A very haffable gent he was 
 too, with manners as would take any 
 woman. I remember once he asked me 
 to change a cheque for ten pounds, which 
 T did, and Butlin was in a rare way 
 about it, a-sayin' ' as Captain ' or no Cap- 
 tain's, it was a thing we never did, but it 
 come as ' right as rain ' as the sayin' is, 
 an ' many a time have I thought of Sarah 
 since, but never a word hev' I 'eard of 
 her. The Captain was killed in the Roo- 
 shun War, I 'eard tell, but 'ow Sarah was 
 left or whether she lived to be a widow or 
 no, was what I never knewed." 
 
 Sam sucked his pipe and listened to the 
 good woman rambling on, and later when 
 he was travelling back to London, he pic- 
 tured her in the witness-box giving evi- 
 dence in a sensational ejectment case of 
 Warleigh versus Warleigh ; in the issue 
 of which he, Samuel Paradine would have 
 a considerable stake.
 
 234 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Mr. Kit Lukes, like many another strong 
 man, had his weaknesses, and one of 
 them was a belief in the wisdom of going 
 crooked on all occasions. 
 
 The most promising of speculations, if 
 it happened also to be an honest one, 
 would always lack a charm to him. It 
 almost seemed he loved a robbery for its 
 own sake. It was true that at fifty 
 years old, he had managed to make a 
 good deal of money, but then he had al- 
 ways been careful in his personal expen- 
 diture. He had no expensive tastes or 
 vices, while on the other hand, he had 
 good brains, which would have made his 
 success in his profession a certainty, if he 
 had worked at it in a more legitimate 
 way. His start in life, too, had been a 
 very fair one. The son of a country so- 
 licitor with a good old-fashioned practice, 
 it seemed that his future was assured, and
 
 DISMAL JIMMY LAYS AGAINST " THE CEIEE." 235 
 
 that he would in due time succeed to his 
 father's place, and would find a splendid 
 chance for making the very best of his 
 abilities in increasing the family prac- 
 tice, and, in time, becoming one of those 
 powerful lawyers who so quietly get their 
 strong grip on to so much property, and 
 become a power in the country. 
 
 If only the sort of honesty which is the 
 best policy had come more easily to him, 
 he would have probably been far better 
 off than he was. But before he was 
 thirty he had made his native town too 
 hot for him. 
 
 Some very unpleasant revelations in 
 the Probate Court, in a case about a dis- 
 puted will, which it was proved he had 
 persuaded an imbecile client to make in 
 his favour, induced a good many of the 
 older Lukes' most influential patrons 
 to let him know that they would take 
 their business away from the office, if 
 young Christopher were not removed 
 from it. 
 
 Before that scandal his reputation was 
 none too good, owing to one or two coups 
 he had made at race-meetings in the 
 country, for Kit was a born sportsman, 
 and very soon on entering man's estate 
 became a sporting man. For a respect- 
 able country lawyer, he was a little too
 
 236 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 clever, and lacked prudence in his un- 
 scrupulousness. 
 
 Old Lukes knew that young Kit had 
 the making of a very clever lawyer in him ; 
 but there was not much love lost between 
 the two, and there was another son to 
 take his place. So Kit got a place as 
 managing clerk to a London solicitor, 
 and, taking his own line, very soon found 
 himself cut adrift from his home people. 
 
 Many a man with a tithe of his 
 ability and not much less principle, had 
 become a respectable, prosperous London 
 lawyer. 
 
 But Kit could not keep his hands 
 out of the dirt, and very soon after he 
 started in business on his own account, 
 he got into the groove, which he always 
 afterwards kept in — that of a shady 
 bill-discounter and sharp practising at- 
 torney. 
 
 Sometimes, perhaps, it occurred to him, 
 that his life was not altogether a success- 
 ful one, and he might doubt whether he 
 had not carried his maxim of "having 
 no infernal nonsense " in the way of a 
 scruple about him almost to an excess. 
 But after his return from his trip to Broxton 
 Down, he was thoroughly satisfied with 
 things in general. He saw an oppor- 
 tunity for bringing off the kind of coup
 
 237 
 
 which had the strongest fascination for 
 him. For years there had not been so 
 much speculation on the Grand National. 
 
 The young men about town were, 
 almost to a man, anxious to have their 
 money on the horse that he knew could 
 have as scant a chance of winning as 
 if it were already scratched. All he had 
 to do was to consider how he could get 
 most out of the situation. 
 
 One day he was walking along the 
 Strand, his mind occupied with that 
 pleasant subject, when he ran into the 
 arms of an acquaintance, — of whom — 
 curiously enough — he was just thinking — 
 a tall gaunt man with a singularly 
 lugubrious expression of countenance, 
 which was remarkably in keeping with 
 his " get up : " he was attired* as though 
 he had but just returned from assisting 
 at some funeral cortege. 
 
 " "Well, Jimmy," said Mr. Lukes, 
 " you're just the man I want. How goes 
 it ? come round to my office." 
 
 " I've nothing to complain of Kit, so 
 far as making money is concerned ; but 
 I don't like the life I lead," answered the 
 melancholy man. " I don't feel com- 
 fortable in my mind about it, you see ; 
 say what you like, for a man of my turn 
 of thought, it isn't in keeping."
 
 238 JACK WABLEIGH. 
 
 " Ah, yes, I take it, the elders or deacons, 
 or whatever you call yourselves of that 
 chapel at Ball's Pond, wouldn't altogether 
 approve of Dismal Jimmy, if they knew 
 him as we do." 
 
 "No, indeed they wouldn't, but they 
 don't know. They think I am something 
 in the Stock Exchange line. In fact, our 
 pastor, who is speculating with his wife's 
 fortune, came to me the other day, and 
 asked, if I could tell him anything about 
 gold shares. I should be shunned like a 
 pauper, if they thought I was a betting- 
 man." 
 
 " Ay, Dismal Jimmy or the Under- 
 taker, who is said to have worked more 
 commissions against ' dead 'uns,' than 
 any one else in the ring, would not be 
 considered quite respectable by the par- 
 son who gambles in "Wild Cat Mining 
 Companies." 
 
 " Yes, and the question is, Mr. Lukes, 
 can betting be right ? I doubt it. All the 
 associations of the business are revolting 
 to me. If ever there was a convinced 
 Good Templar, I am one, and one has to 
 meet a class of company, which, say what 
 you will, Mr. Lukes, isn't desirable or im- 
 proving." 
 
 " Why don't you drop it, then ? " asked 
 Mr. Lukes, as they turned the corner of a
 
 DISMAL JIMMY LAYS AGAINST "THE CEIER." 239 
 
 street off the Strand, where he carried on 
 his business. 
 
 " A wife and six children make it hard 
 for a man to give up a good living. [ 
 have never found anything else at which 
 I seemed to have the slightest turn of 
 luck. I went in for publishing a reli- 
 gious newspaper, but bless you, a man 
 who has cut his teeth in the betting ring 
 ain't in it, with the lot in that line. I 
 dropped in my money and got fleeced. 
 I've been in the wholesale treacle line, in 
 a Heathen Clothing Company — you know 
 the line — six per cent, dividends in this 
 world with a biblical prospectus — but I 
 never could do any . good, the lot are so 
 artful, that I couldn't last with 'em, and 
 had to turn betting-man again." 
 
 " And a pretty good thing you make of 
 it, don't you, Jimmy, my boy ? And now 
 to business. I want you to work a com- 
 mission for me, on the Grand National. 
 How much can you lay against ' The 
 Crier ' ? " 
 
 " The Crier ! why, they're all mad to 
 back it ! The swells won't touch anything 
 else, except Lord Bamborough's horse." 
 
 " Then lay all you can against it for 
 me. Lay to lose fifty thousands, but 
 get every penny there is in the market to 
 go on the Crier."
 
 240 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 " Dear, dear, so the Crier is to be 
 made a dead 'im of — to use the revolting 
 language of the ring. "Well, that is sad, 
 for all the young men are wild to back it. 
 Still, it will be a useful lesson for them, 
 Mr. Lukes, better in the end for them to 
 lose their money than to win it, for say 
 what you will, betting is an unhealthy 
 occupation. In fact, I am very much in- 
 clined to put it down as absolutely wrong. 
 Let us hope that if the Crier has been 
 made a ' stiff 'im,' it may teach a very 
 useful lesson to many a young man, and 
 Mr. Lukes, you may depend upon my 
 getting pretty nearly all there is to be got 
 out of it." 
 
 " Well, Jimmy, I'm always game to read 
 'em that sort of lesson, I have shown 'em 
 once or twice the folly of backing favour- 
 ites, but 6 a fool is born everysecond,' thank 
 goodness," said Kit, and the two parted. 
 
 That conversation accounted for a fact 
 which was much commented upon in the 
 sporting papers, namely, that though 
 there seemed to be an enormous sum of 
 money in the market to back the Crier, 
 the horse was persistently opposed in a 
 very dangerous quarter. 
 
 Dismal Jimmy's mournful voice was 
 always heard declaring his willingness to 
 lay against the Crier.
 
 DISMAL JIMMY LAYS AGAINST "THE CRIEE." 241 
 
 On the other hand, among a certain 
 class of young men, it become almost an 
 article of faith that backing the Crier 
 was a certain cure for impecuniosity. 
 
 It was the best thing there had been 
 for years, and his victory was simply a 
 matter of whether he kept on his legs. 
 
 Cecil Warleigh's luck seemed to turn. 
 He rode in a good many races about 
 that time, and nearly always won. The 
 Grand Military Steeple-chases at Sandown 
 that year were a particularly bright and 
 successful reunion. Cecil was to ride in 
 the Grand Military a horse that belonged 
 to Lord Lomond, a brother officer, and the 
 gallant Loyal Lancers, were to a man 
 standing to win their money on his mount. 
 Cecil had won two other races, on horses 
 that Jack had given him, and which were 
 trained by Tom Ring. 
 
 " We're in rare form just now, Captain," 
 said honest Tom, his good-looking face all 
 aglow and wreathed in smiles, when Cecil 
 had weighed in after the second of these 
 races, " I didn't feel over confident about 
 to-day, but the Liverpool race has never 
 looked such a sure thing ; " and the 
 trainer's words were known all over the 
 course in a very short time, and soldiers of 
 all ranks and corps had their money on 
 the Crier for Liverpool. 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 Many a gallant officer's name was 
 written in Jimmy Grrueby's book, and 
 still his raven-like voice was lifted np 
 offering to bet on ' the field.' All was 
 fish that came to his.net, he would lay the 
 odds to hundreds, or to a few sovereigns 
 as the backer required. 
 
 " Five to two on the field, for the 
 Grand National," he chanted out, as 
 if he were foretelling the doom of the 
 human race, but still undefeated and 
 nndaunted. 
 
 Men who knew most about the betting- 
 ring, shrugged their shoulders when they 
 heard the refrain, and wondered what was 
 wrong. 
 
 " Don't like that carcass-merchant's 
 way of going on," said Sir Peregrine 
 Evergreen, a veteran of the turf, who had 
 seen his own colours beaten for the last 
 time, some twenty years before, but still 
 went from race-course to race-course, 
 investing his fivers with a good deal more 
 discretion than he did his ' monkeys ' in 
 the days of his prosperity, to Captain 
 
 Baxter, late of the th regiment, who 
 
 owning a good pair of eyes, a sharp pair 
 of ears, and unruffled prudence, found 
 that backing horses was better than going 
 on the Stock Exchange or Mark Lane, as 
 some of his retired brother-in-arms had
 
 DISMAL JIMMY LAYS AGAINST "THE CRIER." 243 
 
 done ; and being swindled, as they were, 
 by City sharpers. 
 
 " He has overlaid any possible book he 
 can have made, but I fancy he doesn't 
 make much of a book ; looks as if he were 
 at his old business and betting on com- 
 mission," answered Captain Baxter. 
 " He has laid for Kit Lukes before 
 now." 
 
 " AVhat, is Lukes backing, then ? " 
 asked Sir Peregrine. " I think he is the 
 more dangerous man of the two." 
 
 " I saw him take the odds to a ' pony ' 
 about Jack Sheppard on Friday, at 
 Kempton. There are some people who 
 say that he thinks that he is sure to win 
 with that," answered the Captain. 
 
 " Never found Kit Lukes let a dozen 
 men hear him back a horse of his, when 
 he really did feel sweet about it." 
 
 " Ah, if Mr. Jimmy Grueby told all 
 he knew about Kit Lukes, that gen- 
 tleman would find that there was not 
 room enough for him on Newmarket 
 Heath." 
 
 " They say Kit never trusts a man, 
 unless he knows enough about him to 
 send him to penal servitude," replied the 
 Captain. 
 
 " Kit is an infernal scoundrel," re- 
 marked Sir Peregrine, " and has done 
 R 2
 
 244 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 enough to have a thousand men warned 
 off. I wish to goodness I knew what his 
 game is for Liverpool, though — there go 
 up the numbers for the next race. The 
 Military Heavy Weight Handicap ; what 
 do you fancy for it ? " 
 
 " I hear," answered the Captain, " that 
 Wide-awake, owned by Mr. Jones of the 
 ' Worzelshire Light Infantry,' is being 
 backed. ~No. 5, Lord Lomond's Ajax with 
 Cecil Warleigh up, is the favourite, they 
 always back Warleigh' s mount at this 
 meeting. I shall back Wide-awake, off 
 the course ; he won't be backed for a 
 penny here. I shall have ' a pony ' on 
 him." 
 
 " I'll have a tenner on, that's a big sum 
 for me," said Sir Peregrine, and they both 
 turned away to the telegraph. 
 
 The saddling bell for the next race 
 was ringing as, after sending off their 
 messages, they hurried to the paddock 
 where horses were being stripped, and 
 knots of admirers were gazing at the 
 starters for the Handicap.
 
 245 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE GRAND MILITARY. 
 
 The horses engaged in the Grand 
 Military were this year decidedly above 
 the average class. The Household 
 Brigade contributed some half-dozen 
 candidates, the most fancied of them 
 being Sailor Boy, owned by Lord Lutter- 
 worth, of the Royal Horse Guards, and 
 ridden by his owner, who was, perhaps, 
 more in his element following the Quorn 
 than between the flags ; but for all that, 
 bad to beat anywhere : a splendid horse- 
 man, and the hardest of hard riders. 
 
 The Royal Horse Artillery, that most 
 sporting of corps, had as usual a likely 
 candidate. On Captain Jubber's Curragh 
 Wren the hopes of Woolwich were cen- 
 tred, the mare having carried all before 
 her at their meeting at Eltham some 
 weeks before, and the gunners had backed 
 her to a man. But they feared Ajax, Cecil 
 Warleigh's mount, which starts a strong 
 favourite.
 
 246 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 " That fellow looks more like riding in 
 a Farmer's Stakes than in the Grand 
 Military," says Sir Peregrine to Captain 
 Baxter, pointing to a young man, whose 
 large, red face was set off by a yellow silk 
 cap. He had an old brown country-made 
 great-coat, such as young rustics wear on 
 a Sunday, buttoned over his racing jacket, 
 and altogether looked like anything but an 
 officer in the army. An old, hard-bitten 
 looking groom was holding his horse. 
 
 " Yes, he doesn't look very smart, but 
 I fancy he can ride," replied Captain 
 Baxter. " I like the look of the mare 
 Wide-awake as well as any of them ; and 
 the lot behind Mr. Jones of the Wurzle- 
 shire regiment are clever enough. His 
 uncle is Bill Jones who trains up 
 Northallerton way — and Wide-awake was 
 a goodish mare at the flat two years ago, 
 but a little slow." 
 
 Sir Peregrine thought it seemed a good 
 thing to back the horse, as his friend went 
 on to tell him how he had smelt a rat on 
 seeing Mr. Jones, Senior, the father of the 
 sulbaltern of the Wurzleshire regiment, 
 busy taking the long odds ; and had got 
 the information from him, that they in- 
 tended to get up a little surprise for the 
 army. 
 
 Mr. Jones, Senior, who was whispering
 
 THE GEAND MILITAEY. 247 
 
 a few last words to his son, was an elderly 
 man, dressed like a dissenting grazier in 
 a greasy black suit of clothes, the pockets 
 of which bagged out as if he were carry- 
 ing his things for the night in them, 
 which, as a matter of fact, was the 
 case. 
 
 " There's enow brass on t'ould mare to 
 pay for cramming thee for t' army, and 
 there's nowt to fear but Warleigh, an' 
 thou'rt a bit better than him. We get a 
 foin price, I war'ant there's no one 
 backing t' mare, but that sly devil 
 Baxter who saw me, an' no doubt he told 
 ould Sir Peregrine, but they'll keep their 
 mouths shut, an' they do' ant plunge, for 
 they ain't got much t' lose. Did'st tell 
 any o' thy brother officers, lad ? " 
 
 " Nay, father, they're a stook up lot, 
 and said I warn't bringing credit on th' 
 regiment, in making a fool o' myself in 
 public ; they're a lot o' men as just know 
 nowt," said the youngster, as he pulled 
 off the great coat and displayed his 
 colours, a green jacket with yellow cap. 
 
 Young* Jones was not a favourite in 
 the Wurzleshire regiment, who were a 
 peculiarly slow and sedate lot of men, 
 but were startled out of their usual 
 apathy by his curious pronunciation of 
 the Queen's English, his manner of
 
 248 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 eating, and demeaning himself at mess, 
 to say nothing of the general rusticity, 
 not to say vulgarity, of his manners. 
 He seemed very stupid about his drill 
 and- his duty, so much so, that he was 
 believed to be a little deficient in intellect, 
 and the notion of his having entered a 
 horse for the Grand Military was con- 
 sidered a joke, which would have been a 
 very excellent one, if it did not tend, to a 
 certain extent, to throw ridicule on the 
 regiment. 
 
 Jack Warleigh had come down to 
 Sandown with the Cottinghams. For 
 some little time he had felt puzzled at 
 Kate's manner. They were excellent 
 friends, and Jack was more in love 
 with her than ever, yet she managed 
 to prevent matters coming to a crisis. 
 It seemed almost as if she had some 
 sympathetic power over him that kept 
 him from making the declaration she did 
 not care to hear. 
 
 For the first time he felt half 
 jealous of Cecil, and noticed what a 
 thorough understanding there seemed to 
 be between him and Kate. 
 
 " I am sure to win this race ; the other 
 two I am doubtful about, but I can't be 
 beaten this time," Cecil had said to her, 
 just before the Grand Military. " This
 
 THE GRAND MILITARY. 249 
 
 is the first time I have backed my 
 mount. You had better follow my ex- 
 ample." 
 
 " I always mistrust you when you're so 
 certain," Kate had answered. " In your 
 case it is the unexpected disaster that 
 always happens to upset your plans." 
 
 " You used to bring me luck, when you 
 watched me riding," Cecil answered ; " it 
 ought to be the same now." 
 
 " The charm is broken, it seems, for 
 you had very little luck at Fetchester, 
 but we won't be out of spirits about it ; 
 I am just the same in wishing you luck." 
 
 There was something in the tone of 
 her voice and in the look in her eyes 
 which startled Jack with the idea which 
 had never come into his mind before. 
 He recalled all the occasions on which he 
 had seen them together. The first 
 they had not met for some years, and 
 yet their greeting was cold and con- 
 strained. " Were they like two lovers 
 then ? " he asked himself ; but the un- 
 pleasant answer forced itself upon his 
 mind, that they were not unlike lovers 
 who had quarrelled. If there had been 
 nothing between them, why were they 
 not on better terms ? 
 
 " I suppose you have seen Cecil ride a 
 great many races ? " he said, somewhat
 
 250 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 glumly, as lie noticed the flash of excite- 
 ment in her face as she watched his 
 uncle on Ajax going down to the start. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; a great many times, and I 
 do hope he will win this race. I want to 
 see our regiment beat the Guards and 
 the Artillery. Don't you ? " . 
 
 Of course he did. " What a brute he 
 had been to object to her enthusiasm ! " 
 Jack declared to himself, and his good 
 temper soon returned. 
 
 Cecil Warleigh had noticed Mr. Jones' 
 Wide-awake, and had formed a favour- 
 able impression of both horse and rider. 
 
 They made Ajax rather a hot favourite, 
 taking a hundred to sixty about it. 
 Curragh Wren and Sailor Boy being 
 backed at three to one ; a point or two 
 more was laid against two or three of 
 the other candidates ; Wide-awake's price 
 was a hundred to eight. Here and there 
 it was quietly taken, once by Captain 
 Baxter. 
 
 " Ajax looks as well as anything," 
 remarked General Cottingham to his 
 daughter, as the horses pass the Stand 
 for the first time. Kate says nothing, 
 but watches Lord Lutterworth, of whom 
 she is most afraid. 
 
 A gallant rifleman leads, but it is 
 obvious that his horse is out of condi-
 
 THE GRAND MILITARY. 251 
 
 tion ; Sailor Boy is second, while Ajax 
 and Curragh Wren lie behind with Wide- 
 awake some length or so in their wake. 
 
 Two have already come to grief at the 
 brook, two others are hanging out signals 
 of distress. 
 
 " That fellow can ride right enough," 
 says Captain Baxter to Sir Peregrine, as 
 he looks approvingly at Wide-awake. 
 
 After negotiating a couple more fences, 
 the hopes of the Rifle Brigade are 
 snuffed out. The others keep their 
 places. 
 
 A mile from home, it looked any one's 
 race. The men of the Blues, Artillery 
 and Lancers, all hope to secure the 
 Soldier's Blue Ribbon. 
 
 " Jubber wins ! we shall have the 
 cup on the mess table at Woolwich, and 
 nowhere else will it look so well," says a 
 young gunner, who had just passed out 
 of the Academy. 
 
 For a moment or so, it looks as if 
 Sailor Boy will win, but Lutterworth has 
 ridden his horse quite out, for he goes 
 down at the last fence. Then comes a cry 
 of " The favourite wins ! " as Ajax passes 
 Curragh Wren, who also gives place to 
 Wide-awake. Ajax clearing the last 
 fence, comes into the last field with a lead 
 of two lengths.
 
 252 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 " Ajax wins ! Ajax wins ! " is shouted 
 by stentorian voices from the Grand 
 Stand, and the Lancers think they have 
 won their money. Captain Baxter, as he 
 takes in the race, thinks differently. 
 
 " No, it's a race ! The grey wins — here, 
 what's this ? Wide-awake wins ! No, 
 Ajax wins ! " but the supporters of the 
 latter are doomed to be disappointed. 
 
 Cecil Warleigh's horse has shot his bolt, 
 and notwithstanding a bit of desperate 
 riding on his part, Wide-awake passes 
 him, full of running, and wins the Grand 
 Military Gold Cup for the Wurzle- 
 shire regiment, easily enough, by two 
 lengths. 
 
 " Who is he?" 
 
 " Jones — Wurzleshire regiment." 
 
 " That's the old — th, isn't it ? " 
 
 " He won that race very cleverly ? " 
 
 " What an infernal sell ! Never heard 
 of the confounded horse." 
 
 "Did pretty well on the flat, though, 
 the season before last," says Baxter, con- 
 solingly, to a young guardsman, who 
 seemed to be flabbergasted that a man 
 in the Wurzleshire regiment should have 
 beaten them all. 
 
 " Yes, I backed it, thought it a good 
 thing." 
 
 When the race of the day is over, book- 
 
 it
 
 THE GRAND MILITAET. 253 
 
 makers turn their attention to future 
 events. 
 
 Mr. Grueby's voice is heard offering 
 to lay against the Crier for the Grand 
 National. 
 
 "What's wrong with the Crier?" 
 asked Lord Dargle of Jack Warleigh, 
 " that fellow's opposition is generally 
 rather sickly," he added, as Grueby's 
 monotonous chant continued. 
 
 " Then he knows something that I 
 don't know, that Cecil doesn't know, and 
 Tom Ring doesn't know ; for we three 
 are all perfectly confident, and the horse 
 is fit and well," replied Jack, turning to 
 Grueby and asking, — 
 
 " What price do you say the Crier ? " 
 
 " A hundred to forty ! A thousand to 
 five hundred ! Ten thousand to four 
 thousand ! if you really want to back it, 
 Sir John." 
 
 Jack had heard several whispers about 
 the persistent opposition to the Crier, 
 and he felt somewhat sore at the way the 
 class of small speculators — who are always 
 ready to invent a cock-and-bull story 
 about an owner — shrugged their shoulders, 
 and said that the stable had been fore- 
 stalled, and were going to scratch the 
 horse after they had got a lot of money 
 out of him.
 
 254 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 " I will take ten to four in thousands," 
 said Jack, as he pulled out his book. 
 
 Mr. Grueby shook his head sadly, and 
 entered the bet, and then there came a 
 shoal of smaller backers, who followed the 
 owner's money. 
 
 Mr. Grueby offered half -a-point less, but 
 he still seemed willing to go on laying 
 against the Crier. 
 
 " Keep your eyes wide open down at 
 Warleigh, for I don't altogether like * the 
 look of Dismal Jimmy," said Lord Dargle 
 to Jack, as they walked away. 
 
 " There's no fear, I tell you. Tom 
 Ring, the trainer, is as honest as the 
 day," answered Jack, " I'd as soon mis- 
 trust myself or Cecil as Tom Ring." * 
 
 " It seems to be fated that you never 
 win when you are certain," Kate 
 whispered to Cecil, when he came up 
 after the race for the Cup. " Will 
 another of your plans be upset at Liver- 
 pool ? " 
 
 " No, Liverpool is a certainty, that 
 can't be upset." 
 
 " Not in a steeple-chase ? Is the 
 Crier sure to win ? " she asked in a 
 somewhat doubting tone, for she more 
 than suspected the truth. 
 
 " No, to lose," replied Cecil, looking 
 into her face, to see if the knowledge of
 
 THE GEAND MILITAEY. 255 
 
 what he was going to do made her feel 
 repulsion. "I suppose it's nonsense for 
 me not to be candid with you ? " 
 
 " And you risk this for me, Cecil ? It 
 would be horrible for you if you were 
 found out," she answered ; but her face 
 softened and a look that Cecil knew well 
 enough came into her eyes. " Once it 
 seemed that you would never care as 
 much as that for me!"
 
 256 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 SAM PARADINE DINES. 
 
 " Samuel, dear boy, I have a bit of luck," 
 said Tommy Rodgers, the celebrated 
 author, bursting into Sam Paradine's 
 bedroom, on the morning after the latter's 
 trip to Brighton — " and I want you to 
 lend me a bob or two, and share it with 
 me. 
 
 Sam Paradine had woke up on hearing 
 the first part of the speech, and sat up in 
 his bed, but he threw himself back again ; 
 and, more or less, like a door on its 
 hinges, he turned in his bed, and became 
 dull and drowsy. 
 
 " I can't do it, old chap," he muttered in 
 a somnolent voice, and, with a determined 
 pull at the bed-clothes, he settled himself 
 for sleep again. 
 
 " Hang it Sam, you ain't going to 
 sleep again. It's quite late, you know — 
 eleven o'clock — long past time to get up,"
 
 SAM PABADINB DINES. 257 
 
 said Mr. Rodgers, in the brisk manner of 
 one who'd conquered sloth. 
 
 " But I don't mean to get up, I shall 
 stay in bed till things mend a bit. Hard- 
 up-ishness is an illness which I believe 
 in lying up for." 
 
 " But, hang it, things won't mend while 
 you stop in bed, on a beautiful morning 
 like this," and Rodgers opened the window, 
 and let the fog in, " get up, face the 
 world like a man." 
 
 " Not me. When I am up, I am done. 
 My landlady will catch me on the stairs, 
 and if I don't pay her, she'll take the 
 door off the latch when I go out, and not 
 let me in again. No, I'm better in bed, 
 besides, I want to think. Before Paley 
 turned over a new leaf in his life and 
 became an altered man, he stopped in bed, 
 almost all day, thinking of himself and 
 his future. Now, I have a lot to think 
 over too, a very big thing that ought to 
 make my future." 
 
 " And what plan can you think out in 
 bed in a frowsy garret, with nothing to 
 eat ? No, sir, that is not the way to stimu- 
 late genius. If you want to think, have 
 a good varied dinner of several courses, 
 a bottle of dry champagne, and order a 
 cup of coffee, a liqueur of brandy and a 
 capital cigar, and as you smoke, if you 
 
 vol. i. s
 
 258 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 don't find jour ideas coming to you quickly 
 and strongly, they never will come." 
 
 " Don't ! don't, old chap ! else I shall 
 dream of it, and it is so beastly, waking 
 up — but you're right, that is the way 
 to think anything out, but if I had the 
 means to get that sort of dinner, I should 
 not bother about making plans." 
 
 " Get up, man, and dress. You shall 
 have just that sort of dinner to-night. 
 What do you say to a five-shilling dinner 
 at the Paragon, with drinks in keeping ? 
 and to such a banquet I have got an 
 invitation, and, what is more, I am asked 
 to bring a friend. Ah ! you wonder what 
 the talisman was that procured it. It 
 was the story, my boy, that I contributed 
 to Gripps' confounded magazine." 
 
 " Your story ! Why, has the proprietor 
 of the Paragon taken to dining such 
 representatives of literature as are going 
 to be celebrated some day or other ? Are 
 vou going to be entertained by a grateful 
 public ? " 
 
 " I daresay you did not notice that one 
 of the best drawn characters in that 
 brightly written narrative — Lord Edward 
 — the unprincipled aristocrat, whose 
 gluttony is neatly made a point of, 
 always indulges in the five-shilling dinner 
 at the Paragon. He has no less than
 
 SAM PAKADINE DINES. 259 
 
 three of those dinners, in ten pages ; well, 
 I went to see the proprietor there, this 
 morning. I knew him well enough in the 
 old days. Look at this, I said, and got 
 him to read the story. I believe an 
 author never pleased a man more than I 
 did that fellow. He said, ' It .was capital, 
 a grand story.' " 
 
 " When I told him that I used to give 
 dinners at the Paragon, before I got broke 
 and took to literature, he answered with 
 enthusiasm that ' it would have been 
 a pity that any one who could write like 
 I did, should not have taken to it. But 
 I tell you what it is,' he said. ' You 
 shall dine here again ; there will be a 
 table for you any night you like, and you 
 shall see that the lord you write about 
 was not wrong when he came to our five 
 bob ' set out.' It will be a table for four, 
 and you can bring some other literary 
 gents to dine with you ; there'll be two 
 bottles of champagne, a bottle of port, 
 and a pint of sherry.' So, Sam. my boy, I 
 thought of you and I accepted. A glass of 
 sherry with your soup, a bottle of cham- 
 pagne with your dinner, and a half 
 bottle of port to wind up with : that's 
 the receipt for thinking. Plain living 
 and high thinking be hanged. With a 
 dinner like that inside you, you could 
 s 2
 
 260 JACK WAJBLEIGH. 
 
 face a regiment of London landladies, 
 all asking to be paid small accounts. 
 But, have you a bob or two ? " 
 
 "Don't see what you want 'em for?" 
 said Sam, whose face had brightened up 
 wonderfully during his friend's recital. 
 
 " "Well, my boy, we want breakfast ; 
 just a snack, you know. Such a dinner in 
 prospect demands a breakfast, and I don't 
 mind owning, that yesterday I forgot all 
 about breakfast, thinking about the din- 
 ner, and spent all I had. Then, there's 
 the waiter. A feast is spoiled when you 
 see in the waiter's eye a look of mistrust 
 as to whether he will get anything for 
 himself or not, and you feel all the time 
 that his mistrust is well-founded. Then 
 aeain, that tie and collar of mine ain't 
 what they ought to be. My clothes are 
 all right, they're one of Blog's ' two 
 guinea suits.' It was at Blog's, you'll 
 remember, ' that the long-lost heir ' got his 
 rig out. But my tie and collar are very 
 weak. The infernal editor chucked the 
 thing in which I gave the haberdasher a 
 turn." 
 
 Sam Paradine had some three shillings 
 left, and he handed his friend half of it. 
 
 " That's all right, that will do splen- 
 didly. A shilling for the waiter, and the 
 modest sum of sixpence judiciously expen-
 
 SAM PAKADINE DINES. 261 
 
 ded for the purpose of procuring a paper 
 collar and some arrangement in the scarf 
 line, and I shall be fit to walk in the Park. 
 My hat is all right. — You remember 
 my account of the returned Prodigal, 
 ' And shabby though his garments were, 
 they bore signs of having once been the 
 pride of a West End tailor ; while there 
 was still that mark of workmanship about 
 his tattered, caved-in hat, which clings to 
 one of Brown's productions, even when it 
 does duty on a scare-crow.' That was 
 good for a decent tile." 
 
 " Does Grripps know of it ? " asked 
 Sam. 
 
 " No, thank goodness ! he has never 
 twigged. You see, he doesn't read his own 
 magazine. In fact, I don't know that he 
 can read." 
 
 " I suppose he'd stop it, if he did," asked 
 Sam, " and say it lowered the dignity of 
 his blessed periodical ? " 
 
 " Stop it, bless me, no, but he'd take 
 care to get the plunder for himself." 
 
 Tommy Rogers, happy in the possession 
 of the eighteen-pence that Sam had parted 
 with, took his departure, previously men- 
 tioning the hour of six o'clock as being 
 the hour at which the famous Paragon 
 five-shilling dinner was served. 
 
 A good dinner is thrice-blessed. Good
 
 262 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 to look forward to, doubly good to enjoy, 
 and good to look back upon. 
 
 Sam thought little of his troubles and 
 much of the coming feast. He was going 
 to dine — not merely to get something to 
 eat in a cheap and greasy cookshop. A 
 feast of reason and a flow of soul is all 
 very well in its way, but it was a poor 
 thing, so he thought, when, day after day, 
 it was enjoyed, unaccompanied by unat- 
 tractive viands. He felt serenely happy, 
 and when the landlady caught him on 
 the stairs as he anticipated, and told him 
 not to come back unless he brought his 
 rent with him, he bore her tirade, to use 
 Doctor Johnson's fine figure, "like a monu- 
 ment." He spent the day — it was one of 
 those rare sunny days of early spring — in 
 blissfully thinking of his evening's enter- 
 tainment. 
 
 At the appointed hour he was waiting 
 near the door of the Paragon for his ta- 
 lented friend. The very notion of dining 
 again in an ample manner had given a 
 certain dignity to Sam's gait and ap- 
 pearance. He had not dined there for the 
 last twelve years, and then he was one of 
 a jovial party of Christ Church men, three 
 of whom were now English Peers, and the 
 fourth Sam had met only a week or two 
 before, acting as billiard marker at a third
 
 SAM PAEADINE DINES. 263 
 
 rate public-house. They had smoked 
 several pipes together, drank a glass of 
 gin and water, and had a long talk over 
 old times. Yes, they had jovial times when 
 he was sowing that large crop of wild 
 oats that had sprung up so disastrously. 
 
 The arrival of Mr. Rogers, looking 
 smart in an arrangement of white scarf 
 and paper collar, checked Sam's thoughts 
 of the past. 
 
 "I was thinking over old times, Tommy, 
 when I used to dine here before ; and, how 
 different they were," he said, as the other 
 joined him. 
 
 " Different, be blowed ! ain't we going to 
 have the five-shilling dinner, and as much 
 as we can drink? Old days have come 
 back again, for the time being," answered 
 Rogers. 
 
 "I dined with Bamborough, Lomond, 
 Haggis and Freddy Dormer, who was 
 considered the handsomest man at Oxford, 
 and who is now the marker at the Old 
 Lark Pie." 
 
 " Hope everything is comfortable, gen- 
 tlemen ? Grlad to see you here again, 
 Mister. I remember your face very well, 
 though I've not had the pleasure of seeing 
 you for a long time. Have you took up 
 literature too, sir? Well, gentlemen, I ain't 
 one of them as despises literature. What
 
 264 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 I says, is, literature ought to be the ' 'and- 
 maid of commerce, ' said the proprietor, 
 coming to where they sat. " Now, if 
 either of you gents could set that senti- 
 ment into print, as something I said, and 
 work in a little about my five-shilling 
 dinner into the same paragraph, why, 
 I should be very happy to see both of you 
 here again." 
 
 The dinner served to Tom Rogers and 
 Sam Paradine was an excellent one. 
 
 " "Well, it's years since I had a bottle 
 of champagne," said Sam, when a second 
 bottle was finished. 
 
 " He is a fine, liberal, large-hearted 
 man, is Biffin, I'd like to write a three- 
 volume novel, all about the place, and the 
 dinners," said Tommy Rogers, as he 
 sipped his glass of port. " The waiter 
 looks like a character, one might bring 
 him in, and the cook ; I'd like to bring 'em 
 all in. Sammy, my boy, you've deserted 
 literature — and for what ? Why, for fool- 
 ing in that Record Office, where you'll 
 never do any good. Fine sentiment, that 
 of Biffins, ' Literature, the handmaid of 
 Commerce,' — and yet you have deserted 
 literature to grub among old papers, and 
 become a drudge of the law." 
 
 By the time the wine was finished, the 
 two friends had reached the argumen-
 
 SAM PARADINE DINES. 265 
 
 tative stage, and they were discussing' 
 each other's positions in life, with a fatal 
 candour. 
 
 " Let me tell you that a g'ologist— -I 
 mean a gene — al — lo — lol — olgist, holds a 
 far better position than a penny-a-liner, 
 and he finds out some very 'portant things, 
 now an' then," stammered Sam. 
 
 " 'Portant things ! St-huff an' non- 
 sense ! where have you ever found out 
 anything but bogus pedigrees for retired 
 tradesmen ? " answered Tommy Rogers, 
 laughing, and somewhat unpleasantly, as 
 he tossed off: the remainder of. his coffee 
 and brandy. 
 
 " So you think ; just listen to this, 
 and then tell me I never find out any- 
 thing," retorted Sam, and then at great 
 length, he told, with much harking back 
 and considerable circumlocution, the story 
 of what he had found out at Brighton. 
 
 It was told in a very thick voice, which 
 had perhaps a soothing effect ; and 
 when at last he had come to a conclusion, 
 and demanded triumphantly of Tommy 
 Rogers, "What he tho' o' that?" the 
 latter was leaning with his elbow on the 
 table, asleep. 
 
 For all that, however, Sam's eloquence 
 had not been wasted. To the latter part of 
 the story there had been one very attentive
 
 266 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 listener. A fresh-complexioned, middle- 
 aged gentleman, who sat at the next table, 
 had been inclined at first to feel annoyed 
 with Sam Paradine's story. After he had 
 finished his dinner, he had pulled out of 
 his pocket what looked like a betting-book, 
 and had become absorbed in some calcu- 
 lations, which were considerably disturbed 
 by the noise his neighbours were making, 
 and at first seemed inclined to remonstrate. 
 After a little while a name caught his ear, 
 which caused him to lean forward and 
 listen eagerly to the rest of the story. 
 When it was concluded, he got up and 
 walked to the next table. 
 
 Touching Sam on the shoulder, he said : 
 
 " Excuse me, sir, but, do you think that 
 bawling out a story like the one you've 
 just told in a public dining-room, is quite 
 prudent? I happen to know something 
 about the family whose name you have 
 been making so free." 
 
 Sam looked somewhat aghast at the 
 stranger, who stared him out of coun- 
 tenance, with a pair of cunning little blue 
 eyes. 
 
 " Now, if you take my advice, sir, you'll 
 give me your name and address, and call 
 on me to-morrow morning, when we can 
 have a little talk about the matter. My 
 name is Christopher Lukes, solicitor, 10,
 
 SAM PARADINE DINES. 267 
 
 Burleigh Street, Strand ; I shall be in to- 
 morrow morning at 11.30. 
 
 " Shan't call on you. Know your 
 infernal place, been there once too often, 
 as it is, Mr. Kit Lukes," answered Sam. 
 
 " Ah, I thought somehow we had 
 met before. JNTow I remember you. 
 Mr. Samuel Paradine, of Christ Church, 
 Oxford. You and Mr. Dormer borrowed 
 fifty pounds from me, on a bill, and you 
 both went bankrupt, and I never got paid 
 a penny. But that is past and gone, I 
 don't bear any malice ; but take my advice, 
 call on me to-morrow, and to begin with, 
 you had better let me have your present 
 address. Believe me, if there is anything 
 in this story, which you have told this 
 gentleman, who doesn't appear to be very 
 interested in it, you will want some one 
 at your elbow, who knows how to look 
 after you. A secret may be valuable so 
 long as it is a secret, but it isn't worth 
 much if it is bellowed out by a drunken 
 man. As it is, I know about as much as 
 you do, if there's anything in the story 
 you've just told. 
 
 Sam felt a good deal more sober than 
 he had done a moment or so before. His 
 friend's prescription for stimulating the 
 mind had been a little overdone, but 
 there was no need for him to regret
 
 268 JACK WABLEIGH. 
 
 that, as it was pretty clear that Mr. Kit 
 Lukes would save him the trouble of 
 having to think out the matter, as he 
 evidently intended to take the manage- 
 ment into his own hands. Still, Sam did 
 not feel himself strong enough to con- 
 tend against the lawyer, whose masterful 
 manner at once gained an ascendency 
 over him. 
 
 " Don't know about my address," said 
 Sam. " I left my lodgings to-day, and I 
 was going to get my friend to give me a 
 shake down." 
 
 " Come along with me, then, you can 
 sleep at my office, and then you will be 
 there the first thing in the morning, when 
 I shall want to talk to you," said Mr. 
 Lukes. And so satisfied was he with the 
 cheap rate at which he saw he was going 
 to acquire information that he thought 
 might become valuable, that he went out 
 of his way to give Mr. Rogers a lift home, 
 and then drove round to his office, where 
 he deposited Sam Paradine, who was 
 content enough to pass the night on a 
 horse-hair sofa, with a railway rug 
 thrown over him. It was better than 
 wandering about the streets, which had 
 seemed by no means an improbable finish 
 to an evening which had begun with an 
 expensive dinner.
 
 SAM PAKADINE DINES. 269 
 
 Sam found himself a mere child in the 
 hands of the lawyer. 
 
 " Before you sell information, you will 
 have to learn to keep your mouth shut, 
 and not give it away. As it is, I know 
 almost as much as I want to," was the 
 way in which Mr. Lukes put it to him the 
 next morning, when he called at an early 
 hour at the office. Sam thought to him- 
 self that it was all the port after the 
 champagne. " But, for all that," Mr. 
 Lukes said, with an air of magnanimity, 
 " he was determined to give Sam a turn. 
 He wanted some one to look up the 
 case, and Sam might as well do it as any 
 one else ; and if the case became im- 
 portant, Sam would have a good present 
 made to him." 
 
 After expressing himself thus, he sat 
 down and wrote several letters. One 
 was to a money-lender, who he believed 
 would have in his possession several letters 
 written by the late Captain Warleigh, 
 asking for specimens of handwrit- 
 ing. Another was to an expert in 
 whose opinion he had some little con- 
 fidence. 
 
 " You'll have to accompany the gentle- 
 man to whom you will hand this letter, 
 down to Brighton, and show him the 
 entry in the register ; and whatever you
 
 270 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 do, don't talk. Last night ought to be a 
 lesson to you for life," said Sir. Lukes, 
 giving Sam the letter, and a great many 
 directions as to how he should work up 
 the case, together with a few pounds for 
 expenses. He then left the office. He 
 had plenty to do just then ; for it was 
 but a few days before the Grand 
 National ; and he did not, to tell the 
 truth, believe very much in Sam Para- 
 dine's discovery, but Lukes was a man 
 who never missed a chance. 
 
 Sam's golden dreams had turned to 
 a very commonplace reality. Still he 
 found himself with a little ready-money ; 
 and those acquainted with his financial 
 barometer must have known that his 
 funds had risen considerably, for a 
 fine set of glistening teeth once more 
 adorned his gums.
 
 271 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 AT LIVERPOOL. 
 
 " I am full against it, sir ; can't lay the 
 Crier any more," said Jimmy Grueby to 
 Lord Dargle, who had come up to him in 
 the big billiard room of the Washington 
 Hotel, on the evening before the Grand 
 National. 
 
 " Hear that ? " said keen-eyed Captain 
 Baxter, nudging the arm of his friend, 
 Sir Peregrine. 
 
 " Looks more healthy ; I believe the 
 horse will start a terribly short price,' ' 
 answered the baronet, who noticed how 
 men were whispering together, and look- 
 ing at the book-maker, who for weeks had 
 been the arch enemy of the favourite, 
 but who now seemed to own that he had 
 done enough. 
 
 Lord Dargle went to another book- 
 maker, and was offered five to two to a 
 small amount. The horse had gone up a 
 point in the betting, and at a shortened
 
 272 JACK WA.RLEIGH. 
 
 price was backed very generally, while 
 most of the layers seemed to fight very 
 shy of betting more than a small sum 
 against the horse. 
 
 " Isn't there one of you here who will 
 lay me the odds to a monkey?" said 
 Dargle. " Well, you are a poor lot." 
 
 " I think I can manage it for you, my 
 lord, as the professionals seem to be 
 afraid to do any real business," said a 
 fresh-complexioned gentleman, who was 
 sitting near Jimmy Grrueby. " You know 
 me, I think, my lord — Lukes — Christopher 
 Lukes, of Burleigh Street." 
 
 " And a very hard lot too, is Mr. Kit 
 Lukes," whispered Captain Baxter to his 
 friend. "As soon as one battery is 
 silenced another opens fire. My opinion 
 is that those two are working in concert." 
 
 " Well, Burke, what have you done 
 about to-morrow?" asked Sir Peregrine 
 of Major Burke, who stopped to say a 
 word as he was leaving the room. 
 
 " The favourite. I don't like taking 
 such a short price, but it can't be helped," 
 answered Dick Burke. " Cecil Warleigh, 
 who backed the horse at longer odds — 
 lucky beggar — laid me twelve to four in 
 hundreds." 
 
 " Oh, Warleigh backed it at long odds, 
 did he?" said Baxter. "Well, he can
 
 AT L1VEEP00L. 273 
 
 keep it all to himself as far as I am 
 concerned, I'm not sure I like the way its 
 going on in the market. Don't like so 
 much opposition from that quarter," and 
 Baxter nodded his head in the direction 
 in which Lukes was standing. The latter 
 gentleman had laid several other bets 
 against the Crier, and still offered to go 
 on. 
 
 " Oh, it's all right. There would be 
 the deuce to pay if there was anything 
 wrong. Dargle has backed the horse for 
 a lot of money, and when he is hard hit, 
 he is determined to purify the turf of 
 those who have got six to four the best 
 of him." 
 
 " I don't say there is anything wrong, 
 mind you. All I do say is, that I don't 
 care about it at the price. It ain't the 
 certainty men think it to be. There are 
 several pretty good ones in the race this 
 year, reminds me of old times. There's 
 that horse of Bamborough's — Middy — he 
 has a big chance, so they tell me, and I 
 like his looks well enough, and what I 
 have seen of him — he ran third last year, 
 and if he is as much improved as people 
 say, he ought to come very near winning 
 at the weights. I should back him if 
 Bamborough would not ride. By the 
 way, Major, what about the Irish lot ? " 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 " Faith, I know nothing abont 'em. 
 Life is not long enough for one to try 
 and see what games that lot won't be up 
 to. Napper Tandy is their best, but it's 
 three years since he won the race, and 
 doesn't grow any younger, an' may-be 
 he isn't meant," said the Major, as 
 he nodded " Good night," and left the 
 room. 
 
 Baxter smoked his cigar and came to 
 the conclusion that the best thing he 
 could do would be to leave it alone. His 
 own judgment seemed to point clearly 
 enough to the favourite, while there were 
 several others he had heard a great deal 
 about. There was the Limpet, fancied 
 by an extremely clever division who 
 trained at Epsom ; Master Dick, the 
 hope of the Cheltenham people ; Paladin, 
 who had won several steeple-chases in 
 France, and a Hungarian horse — Ulda — 
 who had carried all before it in Germany. 
 These represented the Continental opposi- 
 tion ; and both were undoubtedly dan- 
 gerous. Then there was Jack Shep- 
 pard, who was an honest horse enough, 
 and of the twenty who would probably 
 face the starter, there were some half-a- 
 dozen others who had been lately backed 
 for a good bit of money. The field was 
 not a weak one.
 
 AT LIVERPOOL. 275 
 
 " But there's nothing to touch the 
 Crier," Captain Baxter said, " only I 
 would like to know what Kit Lukes has 
 to go on." 
 
 On the day of the Grand National there 
 was a cold white mist spread over the 
 country. Just the sort of weather to give 
 a man the " blues," and make him feel 
 nervous and out of heart, Cecil Warleigh 
 thought, as, muffled in a long great coat 
 and a wrapper, he walked nervously about 
 the paddock, and tried to dodge away 
 from the many old friends who kept pes- 
 tering him about the race. It was curious 
 what a lot of men whom he had not seen 
 for a long time ; good fellows whom he 
 liked, and whom he hated to think he was 
 helping to rob. He was not like some 
 men, who positively revel in a robbery, 
 and greatly enjoy winning their money by 
 foul means, more than by fair. Pat 
 Considine, for instance, would have been 
 in capital spirits if he had only been cast 
 for his part. " Well, thank goodness! the 
 mist will be all in my favour, they may 
 think what they like, but the most mali- 
 cious of them won't be able to see much," 
 he thought, as he stood on the Crand Stand 
 and looked through the mist down the 
 course. 
 
 " Hallo, old boy, wish you luck. I have 
 T 2
 
 276 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 a pony on your mount, for the sake of old 
 times. I thought I'd manage to get to 
 Liverpool once more to see you win, 
 though times are rather hard just now," 
 said a cheery, hearty voice, and Gordon, 
 late of his regiment, an old comrade with 
 whom he'd never had a bad word during 
 the ten years they were in the regiment 
 together, gave his hand a hearty grip. 
 
 " They tell me that the regiment are all 
 on, and that there will be great times 
 when you have pulled off the race." 
 
 Cecil mumbled out a few words in reply, 
 and bustled away. He ought to have 
 realized before, how hateful it would be to 
 go wrong. 
 
 But there was no time for repentance. 
 He must be true to Kit Lukes and com- 
 pany, and let in all his old friends. He 
 hardly saw the first two races, and he 
 never spent a worse hour. 
 
 Before the first race, he caught sight of 
 a face he once knew well enough, Jack 
 Flamby, who in old days was his rival, a 
 rider in military races. He was in the 
 crowd outside the enclosure, struggling to 
 get up to an ill-looking list-man, to invest 
 the few shillings he had managed to bor- 
 row from some old comrade of his palmy 
 days. 
 
 " Hang the fellow, how the devil does
 
 AT LIVEEPOOL. 277 
 
 he manage to get here ? I wish to good- 
 ness he had stopped away for once," Cecil 
 said to himself, as he turned away from the 
 once popular, dashing, and cheery dragoon. 
 But he could not get that face out of his 
 mind. How coarse and shameless the man 
 had become, with his half-defiant, half- 
 cringing demand for alms in the guise of 
 a loan. And to remember that it was only 
 three years since his fall. Cecil felt him- 
 self shivering, how he wished he was out 
 of it all. What a fool he had been to bet 
 against his horse with Dargle and Burke, 
 under the plea of hedging. Dargle was 
 a friend of his, but he would be all the 
 more vindictive on that account, if he 
 suspected he had been wronged. Burke, 
 too, was a dangerous man to try and get 
 the best of. Well, thank goodness for 
 the mist. 
 
 At any other time Tom Ring's honest 
 face would have put him in better spirits. 
 
 " No horse will go down to the post so fit, 
 Captain. It will be like old times again, 
 seeing you coming in first in the Warleigh 
 stripes. Look at him, he is the picture of 
 what a chaser should be," said the trainer, 
 as he came up to him in the paddock, 
 looking as proud as he did on his wedding- 
 day. 
 
 Amongst the knot of people gathered
 
 278 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 round the favourite was Kate Cottingham, 
 who was with her father andJackWarleigh. 
 
 As Cecil came up, their eyes met, and in 
 the look she seemed to tell him that he 
 had her sympathies in what she knew was 
 a trying time for him. He felt less un- 
 comfortable after that, he would go 
 through with it, and it would come off 
 right. His qualms of conscience melted, 
 and he only felt savage with his nephew, 
 when he saw Jack and Kate together. 
 
 " Thank goodness, " he said to himself, 
 as the horses passed the post after the 
 second race, " the worst part of the day is 
 over." He was riding a horse of Lord 
 Dargle's in the race before the Grand 
 National — for some time he would be out 
 of the way. 
 
 " Are you going to ride in this ? think 
 you might as well have left it alone," a 
 voice whispered into his ear, and looking 
 round he saw Colonel Beamish. " I 
 should have thought that job of ours about 
 enough for one day." 
 
 Cecil Warleigh did not answer him. It 
 was a confounded piece of impertinence on 
 Beamish' s part, daring to talk to him like 
 that. 
 
 He was riding to oblige Dargle, and he 
 thought it might become very important 
 for him to conciliate that high-spirited
 
 AT L1VEBP00L. 279 
 
 nobleman, who he knew was rather keen 
 about picking up the race. 
 
 " Nick Holmes wanted Pat to ride in 
 this race, but I told him to keep quiet for 
 the National," said Kit Lukes to Beamish. 
 
 There was a horse trained in Holmes' 
 stable entered for the hurdle race, which 
 they had backed for a little money. If 
 their horse got off well he would win, 
 they believed, but he was an ill-tempered 
 brute that often would not start. They 
 were watching the race from the trainer's 
 stand, which is almost opposite the start- 
 ing post. 
 
 " Think Warleigh might have done the 
 same, and I just told him so," answered 
 Beamish. 
 
 " More fool you, he won't stand that 
 sort of thing from you, if he is the man I 
 take him to be," said the lawyer. 
 
 " We're out of it this time, I am afraid. 
 That brute Wood-pecker is ' at his old 
 games,' " he added, as the savage beast 
 in which they were interested threw back 
 his ears and refused to start. 
 
 " It won't much matter if we win on the 
 National, but I'd like to win on this, just 
 to show we're in luck. It doesn't look 
 like it, though," said Beamish, as from 
 the ring went up shouts of longer odds 
 against Wood-pecker.
 
 280 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 " He's off all right ; no, by the Lord 
 Harry ; did ever man see such a brute ? 
 look at him ; " and Kit Lukes gave vent 
 to some red-hot language as Wood-pecker 
 stopped dead, and lashed out at the horse 
 that passed him. 
 
 " An' begorra, he's done a dale o' mis- 
 chief this time," said a rich Irish brogue, 
 just behind them, which belonged to 
 Doctor Buckeen, late of the Lancers. 
 " He got Cecil Warleigh that time, an' 
 devil a bit of a race for the Grand 
 National will Warleigh ride." 
 
 " Hang him, didn't I tell him he had 
 better have stood down ? " said Beamish, 
 who had seen Wood-pecker lash out, and 
 had heard Dr. Buckeen's exclamation. 
 
 " Keep quiet, you noisy idiot," snarled 
 Kit Lukes, and Beamish felt the lawyer's 
 hand clutch his arm convulsively. Lukes 
 knew that the horse's heels had gone 
 uncommonly near Cecil's boots, if they 
 had not caught him. But as he watched 
 the race, he continued. " No, look how 
 he is riding — he's all right, and he'll 
 win." 
 
 Kit Lukes was not troubled by the loss 
 of the few pounds that he had on Wood- 
 pecker. That no mishap should come to 
 Cecil Warleigh was of far more import- 
 ance to him than that he should win on
 
 AT LIVEEPOOL. 281 
 
 the hurdle race. " It was a near shave, 
 but it missed him," he remarked aloud. 
 
 " Bedad ! I say, it just got 'urn," re- 
 peated the Doctor. 
 
 Cecil seemed to be all right, however, 
 he rode like the same great horseman he 
 had always been, and no one could find 
 fault with the way he won the race, which 
 he did tolerably easily. 
 
 "Warleighisin luck to-day," Kit Lukes 
 heard some one say to Dr. Buckeen. 
 
 " But I'd like to have a look at that 
 leg of his. Wood-pecker caught him, and 
 if he is fit to ride in the G-rand National, 
 T'll eat him," replied the doctor.
 
 282 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE EACE FOR THE GRAND NATIONAL. 
 
 Kit Lukes hastened down from the Grand 
 Stand, after the hurdle race was over, 
 and got to the weighing room in time to 
 see Cecil Warleigh weighed in. 
 
 Cecil looked rather paler than usual, 
 and his teeth seemed to be clenched to- 
 gether as if he were in pain. 
 
 " Yes, won easy enough. Hope it is a 
 good omen for the big race," he said to 
 Dargle, after he had passed the scales, 
 but his face grew whiter, and feeling in 
 the pockets of his long great coat, which 
 he had thrown over him, he pulled out a 
 silver flask, and, putting it up to his lips, 
 drained the contents. 
 
 " Didn't know you went in for that sort 
 of thing before you rode a big race ? " 
 said Lord Dargle, looking at him rather 
 hard. 
 
 Cecil didn't answer, but the colour 
 came back into his face a little, and he 
 looked less faint. Kit Lukes, however, 
 saw that Dr. Buckeen was right — that
 
 THE EACE FOE THE GBAND NATIONAL. 283 
 
 brute, Wood-pecker, had caught him when 
 he lashed out. 
 
 " He is a well plucked 'un though, and 
 will stick to it, and see us through all 
 right. Once let him get into the saddle 
 and start, I don't care if he tumbles off 
 in a faint, or pulls for us," Lukes said to 
 himself, as he watched Cecil. 
 
 Cecil went into an inner room to change 
 the jacket he wore for the red and black 
 striped Warleigh colours. The lawyer 
 noticed that he moved very tenderly, 
 though he did his best not to limp, and 
 he saw the mark on his breeches where 
 he had been kicked. Blue Ruin was 
 being saddled for the great race, but 
 Nick Holmes and Pat Considine might 
 look after that themselves. He wanted 
 to be sure of Cecil. 
 
 The numbers were going up for the 
 G-rand National, and Lukes could hear 
 the tumult of the ring. The Crier was 
 being made a warmer favourite. Would 
 it be too late to hedge ? he asked himself, 
 as he thought of Cecil's pale face. Suppose 
 at that moment he had utterly collapsed. 
 
 " Thank heaven ! he's all right so 
 far," said Lukes — using a form of speech 
 somewhat inappropriate, considering the 
 work he was to be all right for — as Cecil 
 came out of the dressing-room in the 
 Warleigh colours.
 
 284 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 Tom Ring, with his face wreathed in 
 smiles, had come np to him. 
 
 "Well, Captain, if it was anyone else 
 bnt you going to ride the Crier, I'd 
 have been fit to die with envy — but you 
 don't look well — does anything ail you ? " 
 
 " No, I am all right, but I'll get on to 
 the horse, and away from all this," 
 answered Cecil, " get me the saddle, and 
 I'll go and be weighed." 
 
 " That brute of Nick Holmes went 
 near catching you, Captain Warleigh, 
 when he lashed out at the start. I was 
 in the trainer's stand and saw it," said 
 Lukes, who was too anxious to keep quiet. 
 
 " Yes, but a miss is as good as a mile. 
 1 am ready for the Grand National, 
 Mr. Lukes, thank you," answered Cecil, 
 and as their eyes met, the lawyer saw 
 that the other meant that it would be all 
 right, though in his pain he was biting 
 his lips till they bled. 
 
 The weighing-room was crowded. 
 
 " Hullo, Cecil ! You don't look very 
 well on it," said Bamborough, who was 
 weighing to ride the Middy. " Hope you 
 haven't been plunging too much on your 
 mount, for I don't mind telling you now, 
 that I am a good bit better than anyone 
 knows. By G-eorge ! I feel like a winner 
 to-day, which you don't look." 
 
 " Hullo, mister ! Whose colours are
 
 THE EACE FOR THE GRAND NATIONAL. 285 
 
 those ? " the professional jockey who was 
 riding the Limpet was saying to Pat 
 Considine. 
 
 "My own," answered Pat, who was 
 sporting an orange and green jacket, 
 which was more often seen at third-rate 
 suburban meetings, and at out-of-the- 
 way Continental affairs, than on any of 
 the better known courses, " and may-be 
 you'll remember 'em after to-day," he 
 added. 
 
 "What are you going to do in the race, 
 then ? Jostle the favourite, or get in my 
 way?" asked the jockey. 
 
 "Wo, win ! " said Pat, who knew that 
 he could afford the pleasure of boasting, 
 for no human being who knew him could 
 be influenced one way or the other by 
 any word he might utter. 
 
 Jack Warleigh and a knot of his 
 friends stood round the Crier, who looked 
 big enough to carry Blue Ruin, who 
 was being saddled a few yards off. Kit 
 Lukes' nervous face grew calmer for a 
 second or two, as he looked at the brave 
 little mare that was going to land his 
 great ccwpfor him. " She's good enough 
 to win on her merits," he thought for a 
 moment, but for all that, he felt glad 
 that her most dangerous opponent was to 
 be made a dead 'un, and his restless eyes 
 turned to Cecil Warleigh, who moving —
 
 286 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 he could guess how painfully — was coming 
 from the weighing-room. 
 
 " It's all right, but he's a well plucked 
 'un," Lukes said, and under his breath he 
 muttered a sort of prayer. Suddenly his 
 face changed, he hissed out a terrible oath. 
 He could hear a Dublin brogue lifted 
 up amongst the crowd round the Crier. 
 
 " It's that blathering ass, Buckeen," he 
 said to Beamish, who was near him. 
 
 Dr. Buckeen had pushed through the 
 crowd round the Crier and stood between 
 Cecil and the horse. 
 
 " Cecil, me dear old boy ! I say you're 
 not fit to ride — don't tell me — I saw the 
 Wood-pecker catch you, an' there's the 
 mark on your breeches. You're worse 
 hurt than you think, though if you're not 
 suffering pain now, I'm a Dutchman ! " 
 
 " You'd better mind your own business, 
 and leave me alone, and be hanged to 
 you, you officious ass ! " answered Cecil, 
 half mad with pain and annoyance, as he 
 got into the saddle. 
 
 " But 'tis me own business, haven't I 
 a pony on the horse ? Sir John Warleigh, 
 me Lord Dargle, I appale to ye. Don't 
 let 'im ride," implored Buckeen ; and 
 without any more ceremony, he gripped 
 Cecil's leg over the knee. 
 
 Cecil bit his cheek till it bled, but for 
 all that he winced with pain.
 
 THE RACE FOR THE URAND NATIONAL. 287 
 
 " Captain Warleigh is the best judge 
 as to whether he is fit to ride or not," 
 said Jack, who considered the doctor's 
 intrusion an impertinence. " I take it, 
 he wouldn't wish to ride if he wasn't fit." 
 
 " But look here, Cecil — this fellow — 
 Dr. What's-his-name is about right. 
 There's something wrong with you — man 
 alive ! you're going to faint — here you — 
 look and see what is wrong with him ! " 
 said Lord Dargle to the doctor : he was 
 one of the proudest men in England, but 
 had no nonsense about him, when his own 
 interests were concerned. 
 
 " I'm all right, confound you — you d — d 
 ignorant bogtrotter !" said Cecil, but his 
 voice died away to a mumble, as a dull 
 sense came over him that it was useless 
 to struggle any longer. Then a clammy 
 sweat broke out over his white face, and 
 limp and faint, he slipped from the saddle 
 into the arms of the doctor. 
 
 The doctor bared Cecil's leg over the 
 knee, cutting away with a pocket-knife as 
 if breeches-maker's bills were the merest 
 trifles. 
 
 " And he was going to start to ride the 
 Grand National steeple-chase, with a knee 
 on 'im like that; faith, now it's free to do 
 so, you can see it swelling !" exclaimed the 
 doctor. 
 
 With professional pride, he stepped
 
 288 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 back and pointed to the injured limb. He 
 felt that he had gained a niche in the 
 Temple of Fame, if only the Crier won, 
 and that his name, together with that of 
 Sir John Warleigh's, Cecil's, and the Crier, 
 would go down to posterity in Sporting 
 History. 
 
 " I am obliged to you, sir," said Jack 
 Warleigh to the doctor, " but the question 
 is, ' What can be done ? ' But there's not 
 much doubt about that, though," he 
 added, " Tom Ring will ride." 
 
 " Right, Sir John, and win," answered 
 Tom Ring. 
 
 He was sorry for Cecil's disappoint- 
 ment, as he thought, at not riding the 
 winner of the great race ; still he could 
 not help feeling a thrill of satisfaction, 
 feeling sure that he was going to steer the 
 Windmill Lodge crack to victory. When 
 Cecil recovered from his faintness, he saw 
 Tom Ring mounting the Crier, and he felt 
 the Fates might do what they liked, he 
 was out of it. 
 
 " He has put us ' in the cart,' confound 
 him," said Beamish. " What can we do, 
 Lukes ? You know the market, can't we 
 hedge ? " 
 
 " Hedge ! Not a tenth, not a twentieth 
 of our money now. No, we've got to see 
 it through, and trust to Pat Considine, 
 Blue Ruin, and the chapter of accidents."
 
 THE RACE FOR THE GRAND NATIONAL. 289 
 
 Then Cecil Warleigh remembered that 
 he had one last chance. He thought of 
 the hold he had over the trainer, and he 
 called to mind the protestations the 
 honest fellow had so often made, that he 
 would do anything in the world to serve 
 him, and show his gratitude. 
 
 " Tom," he said, laying his hand on the 
 saddle, and whispering into his ear, " you 
 must lose this race, or I'm clean broke, 
 utterly smashed and disgraced. I was to 
 have pulled. That's why I would ride." 
 
 Tom Ring had no time to answer, 
 for Jack "Warleigh came up, but he 
 stared at Cecil, amazed, as if he thought 
 the man he loved and looked up to, had 
 suddenly gone mad ; and his bewildered 
 expression gradually changed to one of 
 reproach and horror, as he took in the 
 situation. He could not answer byword, 
 and Cecil's eyes shifted away from him, 
 as if he were unwilling to give him a 
 chance of answering by gesture. 
 
 Jack led the horse to the gate of the 
 paddock, and then went towards the 
 stand ; and Cecil, brushing past Dr. 
 Buckeen, who was bothering him to have 
 his leg bandaged up, at once limped after 
 him, for he felt certain he was going to 
 join Kate Cottingham and her father, who 
 would be on one of the stands. And 
 there she was, looking through her race- 
 
 vol. i. u
 
 290 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 glasses at the horses doing their prelimi- 
 nary canter. 
 
 Cecil knew her face well enough to notice 
 how anxious she was. He watched her, as 
 Jack spoke a word or two to her, telling 
 her, as he guessed, of the accident and the 
 change of riders. For a second her pale 
 face grew a shade or two paler, then, as 
 she answered, the subtle charm of her eyes 
 and voice, which he knew so well, seemed 
 to be exercised with all its power on Jack. 
 
 " Oh, Captain Warleigh, how horribly 
 unlucky ! " she said to Cecil, as he came 
 forward ; " however, you will have to look 
 on, and see some one else in your place." 
 
 Cecil did not answer, but he set his 
 teeth, and vowed to himself that he would 
 do his best to hate the woman who 
 seemed to mock at him. 
 
 " After all, Cecil, it is not as if it were 
 your first steeple-chase," said Jack, " you 
 have won it before." 
 
 " Yes, one had one's past success to 
 look back to. One knows how little there 
 is in it all," answered Cecil, eyeing Kate 
 meaningly. 
 
 "He is a grand horse," interrupted the 
 General, as the Crier swept past the 
 stand in his preliminary, and took the two 
 hurdles, followed by little Blue Ruin. 
 
 " Hullo ! what's that? that's a useful- 
 looking mare," said the General, refer-
 
 THE EACE FOR THE GRAND NATIONAL. 291 
 
 ring to his card. " Pat Considine's Blue 
 Ruin." 
 
 Cecil thought so too. Blue Ruin looked 
 a fl yer, every inch of her ; after all, there 
 was no telling how good she might not be. 
 
 " JSTo, the horse hasn't won yet," he 
 muttered. 
 
 " I never felt so interested, I never had 
 so much on," said Kate recklessly. 
 
 " Hope you haven't been plunging, Miss 
 Kate. I hate betting women ; particu- 
 larly when I have to settle for them," 
 said the General. 
 
 " Not more than I can pay myself," 
 answered Kate. 
 
 Cecil watched the horses at the start, 
 and. gave a sigh of relief as they got 
 away at the first time of asking. Some- 
 how it seemed to him that what was hap- 
 pening was a dream that he had dreamed 
 before, again and again. 
 
 The first horse to show in advance was 
 Jack Sheppard, Lord Bamborough on the 
 Middy was in the next lot of about half 
 a dozen, then came the two Irish horses, 
 the Frenchman, Paladine, the German, 
 Ulda, and the Epsom trained horse, 
 Limpet. Blue Ruin was in the last lot, 
 and Tom Ring on the Crier, lay right 
 back. Cecil watched Tom Ring over the 
 first double, as if he hoped to read what 
 effect his last words had on him. 
 u 2
 
 292 JACK WARLEIGH. 
 
 " No one down," said Kate. 
 
 They maintained mnch the same order 
 over the next fence. Then the Middy and 
 Master Dick headed Jack Sheppard, and 
 the pair raced away and led by some half 
 dozen lengths. 
 
 " Ulcla is down ; that puts one dan- 
 gerous customer out of it," said the Grene- 
 ral, as the Hungarian horse came to grief 
 at the third fence. 
 
 " By Jove, it's a strong field. That 
 Middy is a rare good 'un, if Bamborough 
 could ride him," said Cecil, as over the 
 plough, past Valentine's Brook, the last- 
 named horse came up to Master Dick. 
 
 The tail was beginning to lengthen, but 
 still Tom Ring on the Crier lay back. 
 
 " The Crier is nowhere, he's not in the 
 race," said Kate, with a glitter in her 
 eyes and a shake in her voice as they 
 came near the stand. 
 
 " Tom Ring is riding the race, as you 
 did last year, Cecil," said the General. 
 
 Cecil did not answer. Was Tom going 
 to wait a little too long? That is what 
 he had meant to do. 
 
 At the next fence, two of the next lot 
 came down. And at the water jump 
 near the stand, Master Dick showed 
 signs of how hot the pace had been, and 
 Jack Sheppard took up the running, and 
 led by some five lengths, followed by the
 
 THE EACE FOE THE GEAND NATIONAL. 293 
 
 Middy, pulling hard, then came the Lim- 
 pet, and some lengths off, Blue Ruin, and 
 one of the Irishmen. Then the Crier, 
 last of the still unbeaten horses. So they 
 came to Becher's Brook, and over it into 
 a long ploughed field, which Cecil thought 
 would settle some of them. 
 
 " Look how well that thief, Pat Consi- 
 dine's going, Cecil. Hang it all, one 
 doesn't want to see that lot w T in," said the 
 General, as Blue Ruin came up very fast. 
 
 " But that lot will win ! " cried Cecil, and 
 there was a note of triumph in his voice, 
 which he was too excited to conceal. 
 
 " No, look at Bamborough ! By the 
 Lord Harry, the Middy wins ! " cried the 
 General, as Lord Bamborough' s horse 
 passed Jack Sheppard, who had had 
 enough of it, and whose mission, as a 
 matter-of-fact, had only been to make the 
 running for Blue Ruin, and led by a couple 
 of lengths. 
 
 Lord Bamborough's many friends began 
 to wish that they had been infected by 
 that nobleman's confidence in his horse. 
 
 " The Middy walks in ! " howled the 
 ring, excitedly. 
 
 "No, he doesn't," said Cecil, whose 
 knowledge of a race was instinctive. 
 " Bamborough can't hold him." 
 
 Cecil was right, sure enough. The 
 Middy had managed to get his bit fairly
 
 294 JACK WAELEIGH. 
 
 between his teeth, and was taking charge 
 of his lordship ! 
 
 At the end of the plough he had run 
 himself out, and his rider was able to 
 steady him a bit. 
 
 Jack Warleigh had hardly taken in the 
 race, for he had been so engrossed in 
 watching the Crier. Novice though he 
 was, he felt sure there was plenty of go 
 left in his great horse, and he bit his lips 
 to restrain the anxiety he felt, and won- 
 dered why Tom Ring kept back so long. 
 After getting over the plough, however, 
 he began to come up to the others. 
 
 " It is all between those three," said 
 Kate, as Blue Ruin, the Limpet, and the 
 Middy took the first hurdle almost abreast. 
 
 "And one other," said Cecil, with a 
 curse — which was heard and remembered 
 by the others of the party — for now he saw 
 that Tom Ring's affection for him was not 
 strong enough to allow him to betray his 
 master. 
 
 The Crier came up, and took the last 
 hurdle into the run in, even with the 
 Middy, who had galloped himself out, and 
 some three lengths from Blue Ruin, who led. 
 
 " Blue Ruin wins, Blue Ruin wins ! " 
 howled the ring, who stood to win largely 
 by Pat Considine's mount. But the 
 plungers took heart. The Crier was now 
 lying second, and the Limpet, who could
 
 THE EACE FOE THE GEAND NATIONAL. 295 
 
 stay for a week, was too slow to catch 
 the leaders. 
 
 " By George ! Blue Ruin is a good little 
 mare," thought Cecil Warleigh, and he 
 still hoped ; though the Crier was at Blue 
 Hum's girths. 
 
 " Blue Ruin ! The Crier ! Blue Ruin 
 wins ! The Crier wins ! " is alternately 
 shouted from the stand. 
 
 " It's a dead heat ! " 
 
 " Bosh ! The Crier has won ! " Cecil 
 hears some one say. 
 
 Sick and faint, the pain in his knee 
 suddenly seeming to master him, he had 
 been unable to follow the finish, and 
 again he had the feeling that he had seen 
 it all before, some thousands of years ago. 
 
 "It's all right, my boy ! The Crier, 
 Blue Ruin, the Limpet," said the 
 General, laying his hand on Cecil War- 
 leigh' s shoulder. 
 
 Then he sees something in Cecil's face 
 that makes him look very grave. "Look 
 here, you had better get away from here, 
 you're looking very bad ! " he added. 
 
 But it was not the look of f aintness and 
 pain in Cecil Warleigh's face that alarmed 
 the General. There was a something else 
 which told his secret to his old friend. 
 Nevertheless, the General very tenderly 
 looked after him, and saw him into a cab 
 to be driven back to his hotel.
 
 296 JACK W ABLE IGF. 
 
 That evening, as they were travelling 
 back to London, Kate Cottingham had 
 some news to give her father. Jack 
 Warleigh had asked her to marry him, 
 and she had accepted. 
 
 " I'm glad of it," said the General, 
 brightening up. He had been looking 
 rather gloomy and old. " He is a good 
 young fellow — won't set the Thames on 
 fire, but he is honest, generous, and 
 honourable, and a gentleman, and that's 
 not what you can say of every one, 
 nowadays. When we were young, we 
 weren't any better than we should have 
 been, but we used to stick to each other, 
 and we had some notions of honour, but 
 the lot who came after us don't seem to 
 think that sort of thing carries any weight. 
 I suppose they really know no better, poor 
 beggars. However, that is not the point. 
 Kate, my dear, you haven't had an over 
 good bringing up ; I would have been a 
 better father to you if I had loved you 
 less, and had had the pluck to send you 
 away from me ; you'll make Jack War- 
 leigh a good wife, won't you, dear ? He's 
 a good youngster." 
 
 For the rest of the journey they were 
 both very silent. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 GILBERT A1TD RIVINGTON, LTD., ST. JOHN'S HOUSF, CLIiRKENWELL ED., E.C