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 UNIVERSITY OF .LL.NQIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 
 Li6l_O-1096
 
 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 I Sorting |:ofljeL 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR 
 
 OF 
 
 CHIRLIE THOBNHILL," " WHICH IS THE WINNER, 
 
 " THS BEAUCLEECS," ETC. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 
 1867. 
 
 The right of translation is reaerved.
 
 825 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 INTRODUCTION . . . .1 
 
 I. A NOTICE TO QUIT . . .6 
 
 II. THE TRIAL AT DAYBREAK . , 15 
 
 Til. HOW TO WIN AT ECAETE. . . 33 
 
 IT. A SPORTING LAWYER AND HIS CLIENTS . 51 
 
 V. MASTER AND MAN . . .68 
 
 VI. A SLIGHT MISTAKE . . .87 
 
 VII. THE MAN THRASHES THE MASTER . 99 
 
 VIII. ALWAYS A BAD ONE . . .114 
 
 IX. THE TRAINER AT HOME . . . 129 
 
 X. THE OPENING OF THE WILL . . 141 
 
 XI. THE WILL CONCLUDED . . . 150 
 
 XII. THE major's little GAME . . l7l 
 
 xiii. what fashion expects of us . . 186 
 
 xiv. the new squire of nobblet . . 201 
 
 xv. an honest man .... 216 
 
 xvi. nat gosling at home . . ' . 231 
 
 xvii. designs by a professional artist . 246 
 
 xviii. " what are the odds as long as 
 
 you're happy" . . . 261
 
 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 INTEODUCTION. 
 
 Tor the last fifty years, by almost imper- 
 ceptible degrees, a passion for the turf has 
 been developing itself among ns. Nothing 
 in the world, especially among the passions, 
 can be regarded as an unmixed good ; and, 
 although there are many qualities and cha- 
 racteristics in an honest sportsman which 
 form the basis of English nationalit}^, they 
 are often joined with others which fade into 
 vices, the very reverse of that openness and 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 3 THE TLYING SCUD. 
 
 lionest}' wliicli was once tlio boast of our 
 countrymen. 
 
 If the turf system of this country ever 
 dies, it will only be by burying itself be- 
 neath that load of avarice which is well- 
 nigh stifling its best aspiration. However, 
 while the professional speculators who pull 
 the strings are as indifferent to the pastime, 
 as a Poor Law guardian to the sufferings of 
 innocent pauperism, or a sheriff's officer to 
 the entreaties of his prey, there are many 
 thousands of spectators avIio still love a 
 thorough-bred horse for himself, and the 
 healthy pleasure he affords them ; who fail 
 to recognise in him at first sight, the instru- 
 ment of wrong, and the unconscious means 
 of aristocratic swindling. 
 
 For this greatness of our countrymen of 
 every class and denomination, Mr. Dion 
 Boucicault has catered. He has provided
 
 INTllODUCTION. 6 
 
 one of those dramatic pictures whicli flatter 
 our intelligence, by reproducing what we 
 feel to be true ; and which appeal to our 
 sj^mpathies at the same time. It was a bold 
 experiment, but not more bold than suc- 
 cessful ; and it is so successful, because 
 every individual takes it, as it were, under 
 his especial protection, and pronounces his 
 own criticism without regard to any voice 
 but that of his own intelligence or expe- 
 rience. 
 
 To Mr. Boucicault's kindness and ready 
 permission I am indebted for the opportunity 
 of presenting the same features of sporting 
 life in the pages of a novel. I believe I see 
 in his drama the foundation of a story, 
 whose interest may be heightened by more 
 close and careful analysis of the separate 
 characters which he presents to you on the 
 stage of a theatre,, and though it be true 
 
 1-2
 
 4 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 that those incidents pass less vividly into 
 the mind by the ear than by the eye, 
 
 " Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem 
 Quam quae sunt oculis subjecta iidelibus," 
 
 there can be no doubt that narration gives 
 an opportunity of enjoyment, which, if less 
 vivid or exciting, is more capable of exer- 
 cising the faculties of comparison and 
 analysis. 
 
 One advantage it certainly possesses, and 
 it is this : your imagination will have fuller 
 scope : you can invest each character with 
 the attributes of your own fancy : you are 
 no more tied to Mr. jSTeville's idea of Cap- 
 tain Grindley Groodge, than to Miss Joseph's 
 personation of Lord Woodbie, and though 
 it is difficult to believe in a Nat Grosling of 
 any other type than that very excellent one 
 afforded by Mr. G. Belmore, you may put 
 yourself — if you please — into your own
 
 INTRODUCTION. 5 
 
 boots and breeches, and ride your own 
 Derby horse in what tackle, and under what 
 orders you please. 
 
 If any pleasure or advantage is to be ex- 
 pected from the perusal of the following 
 pages, it will be increased a hundredfold by 
 having first seen the very excellent drama 
 from which it is taken.
 
 CHAPTEE L 
 
 A NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 It was a mild, heavy night of early spring, 
 in the year 185 — , that old Mr. Sykes — the 
 owner of Nobbley Hall and some hundreds 
 of acres round it — lay dying. What- 
 ever pangs the j^rospect of approaching 
 death may have had for the old man, they 
 were all past now. He bided his time with 
 all outward appearance of patience and re- 
 signation. Something mourns for us all. 
 The old housekeeper, who crept stealthily 
 across the room from time to time, to watch
 
 A NOTICE TO QUIT. 7 
 
 lier master's breathing, liad dropped many 
 a tear for liim during tlie past week ; and 
 tlie handsome black retriever, which lay on 
 the hearth-rug, broke away at intervals to 
 lick the hand which had so often caressed 
 him. 
 
 The blinds were all down, and the curtains 
 drawn, and the obscurity of the dark oak 
 furniture of the handsome Elizabethan room 
 was made doubly sombre by the light of the 
 solitary oil lamp, which burnt on a round 
 table at the foot of the bed. 
 
 The solemn stillness of the house was 
 broken only by an occasional footfall, and 
 the gentle opening of the door, as an occa- 
 sional visitor from the servants' apartments 
 came to inquire whether anything was 
 wanted by the occupants of the sick man's 
 chamber. 
 
 On one of these occasions the old man
 
 b THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 turned, and beckoned feebl}^ Avitli liis atten- 
 uated hand. 
 
 During tlie day lie liad scarcely §poken, 
 and had only roused himself to take the 
 cordials prescribed for him by his medical 
 attendant, and given him hy his house- 
 keeper." . 
 
 Mrs. Marks saw the movement, and went 
 towards him. 
 
 "Mrs. Marks," said he, feebly, but 
 raising himself with difficulty on his elbow, 
 " Mrs. Marks, has any one been here for me ?" 
 
 " It was only one of the maids, sir, come 
 to see if you wanted anything before she 
 went to bed." Then she smoothed his pil- 
 low, but he continued : 
 
 " Has old ISat been in to-night ?" and 
 this time his voice seemed louder, more like 
 himself, and a curious brightness might have 
 been seen in his eyes. »
 
 A NOTICE TO QUIT. \) 
 
 "He came in once, sir, but you were 
 asleep, and we wouldn't wake you.'* 
 
 "' And didn't lie say something ? Where's 
 he gone to ?" • 
 
 "No; he "said he'd look in early. He's 
 been gone home a long time. It's nigh 
 upon eleven o'clock." 
 
 "And what time is it light in the morn- 
 ing ?" inquired the dying man. 
 
 " Soon after six, maybe, sir," replied she, 
 somewhat surprised at the returning dawn 
 of intelligence, which she had not seen for 
 some hours before. Indeed, she almost 
 thought he was not so near his last hour 
 as they liad been led to expect by Doctor 
 Kershaw. 
 
 " Have 3'ou wound up my watch, Mrs. 
 Marks?" 
 
 " Yes, yes," said the woman, a little put 
 out by the unwonted signs of animation.
 
 10 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 ''It's till done sir, long ag*o. Try and sleep 
 a bit, sir." 
 
 " No ; but you can. I shan't want any- 
 thinof till Nat Groslino: comes iu the morn- 
 ing ; and you mustn't let him go away again 
 without my seeing him. Mind, now, Mrs. 
 Marks, I want to see Nat, and I shan't be 
 happy till I do." 
 
 Mrs. Marks Avould have sent for Nat 
 Gosling, but she thought there were no 
 I^resent signs of death about the old gentle- 
 man ; and Nat's cottage was the best part 
 of a mile from the house, and who was to 
 go ? So, after a time, Mrs. Marks fell 
 fast asleep on an extempore bed ; and 
 the poor old man thought on and on, 
 through the night, how long it was in 
 ending. 
 
 It is desirable that the reader should know 
 something about old John Sykes, of Nobbley
 
 A NOTICE TO QUIT. 11 
 
 Hall ; and while lie and his attendant were 
 alternately dozing and watching, I may 
 occupy the time in giving a brief sketch of 
 the old man's career. 
 
 It will be noticed that he was plain John 
 Sykes, of Nobbley Hall. He was not t' 
 Squoire, nor t'ould Squoire, nor Colonel, 
 nor Captain, nor, as a rule, even Mister 
 Sykes. If men of his position have nothing 
 else to hang their names to, there must be 
 a militia regiment in the county, which 
 willingly calls an independent county gentle- 
 man Captain, or Major. This was not the 
 case with Mr. Sykes of Nobbley Hall ; and 
 though he fought hard all his life for some 
 titular compensation by keeping a large and 
 valuable stud (the straightest road to a 
 Yorkshireman's heart) he made no progress 
 with the poor. Wealthy neighbours ac- 
 corded him some marks of respect, Avhen
 
 12 THE PLYING SCUD. 
 
 they saw him lending the Holderness, or 
 holding his own with the Bramham Moor ; 
 they welcomed him Avhen a promising young 
 one for next year's Derhy won the Nursery 
 Handicap at York, or the Hopeful at Don- 
 caster ; but a circuit of some miles of his 
 own neighbourhood would have nothing 
 but plain John Sykes, which is either 
 the greatest compliment or the greatest 
 impertinence that can befall a landed pro- 
 prietor. 
 
 The reason of it was simple enougli. 
 How came John Sykes, at the age of thirty- 
 five or forty, into the Nobbley Hall estate ? 
 It was no secret, so we may as well tell 
 you. 
 
 John Sykes was not a gentleman. Elastic 
 or indefinite as that peculiar English word 
 has become, John Sykes was a gentleman in 
 no respect ; he liad neither the birth nor the
 
 A NOTICE TO QUIT. 13 
 
 feeling of one ; and all that could bo said 
 for a grasping avarice was, that it was 
 governed by legitimate honesty. He began 
 life as a stable-boy, where lie earned a 
 shilling a week extra by doing some of his 
 comrades' work, and saved another by deny- 
 ing himself the ordinary gratification of a 
 stable - boy's appetite. As his wages in- 
 creased with his age and knowledge, he 
 saved more ; and by the time he was of age, 
 the columns of the savings bank at Don- 
 caster were pretty familiar with the name 
 and signature of John Sykes. He was a well- 
 educated, prudent lad ; and, as his father 
 once observed, would make his way in the 
 world if his ''cursed avarice didn't lead 
 him into dishonesty." 
 
 It v/as this John Sykes who lay tranquilly 
 watching for the dawn of day and the 
 coming of his old servant, his groom and
 
 14 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 Lead stableman, with as miicli life as lie 
 could muster, and as much anxiety as if he 
 had a message for him from the world to 
 come."
 
 CHAPTEE 11. 
 
 THE TRIAL AT DAYBREAK ! 
 
 The Nobbley estate had liad the good luck 
 to belong to several generations of real 
 gentlemen, and Colonel Meredith was the 
 last of them. They all gambled, swore, 
 kept open house, borrowed money of the 
 Jews at the expense of their heirs, and paid 
 their bills and debts when they could, always 
 without looking at them, and frequently 
 without taking a receipt ; and Yorkshire is 
 " no that honest " that it could, or " is that 
 canny " that it could not, withstand the
 
 16 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 temptation of plucking" such pigeons. To 
 this Colonel Meredith the said John Sykes 
 was recommended as trainer. If he robbed 
 his master for fifteen years, he took good 
 care that nobody else should ; but the truth 
 is, he did not rob his master. He picked 
 up honestly every waif aud stray he could 
 lay his hands upon ; and whether it was an 
 useless but good-looking foxhound puppy 
 from the kennels, or a piece of old iron, 
 John Sykes found a market of some kind or 
 other. 
 
 While John the trainer was going up 
 in the world, the Colonel of Nobbley 
 Hall, the master, was going as rapidly down 
 in the world ; and, as trainers cannot com- 
 mand success, but only deserve it. Colonel 
 Meredith's racing establishment got smaller 
 and smaller, as his gambling became more 
 reckless, and his losses more frequent. At 
 
 L,
 
 THE TRIAL AT DAYBREAK ! 17 
 
 last an opportunity presented itself for 
 retrieving his fortunes. A colt by Muley 
 Molocli, trained away from home, was re- 
 garded as one of those certainties which are 
 obliged to be backed. It was a certainty 
 to the master, and to the whole establish- 
 ment at Nobbley, from the old housekeeper, 
 the major-domo, and the ladies' maid, down 
 to the very lowest stable-boy or shoe-black. 
 One only person had consistently declined 
 to risk his savings on what he had always 
 declared to be only a probability, and that 
 was John Sykes. 
 
 One week before the race he told ]iis 
 master that he could not win the colt, 
 for that he himself knew a better, an 
 outsider, whose trial was unmistakable, and 
 whom he desired the Colonel to back, 
 adding, " You know, sir, I don't back a 
 horse often, unless I've a fancy for one of 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 18 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 our own. I've backed our colt for a trifle, 
 because I shouldn't like to be out of tlie fun 
 if you win ; but as you've trained him away 
 from home, and I've had nought to do wi' 
 him, I make bold to tell you that I've 
 backed the other, and that I stand to win a 
 heavy stake on Mr. Petre's horse, at thirty 
 to one Now, don't be agin' him, Colonel, 
 for I know it's right." 
 
 But the Colonel was against him, and 
 John Sykes, w^ithin one week, was worth 
 above thirty thousand pounds. 
 
 Three years from this time brought 
 Colonel Meredith to grief. Of course, his 
 old trainer had left him, and had quitted 
 that part of the country. But his money 
 had accumulated. He lent it out at heav}- 
 interest to racing men at short dates. He 
 had a share in a manufactory, and worked 
 the abominable truck system, by which
 
 THE TlilAL AT DAYBREAK! 19 
 
 labour is paid in the cheapest market, and 
 sent to find its food and clothing in the 
 dearest. He made no bad debts, and every- 
 thing prospered that he handled. The 
 property of Nobbley was in the market. 
 The Colonel was dying abroad without 
 issue, his nearest of kin being one Tom 
 Meredith, the son of a late brother, as im- 
 poverished as himself, and the purchaser 
 was John Sykes, the self-taught, self-raised 
 gentleman, scarcely yet approaching the 
 confines of middle life. 
 
 One virtue we should record. He re- 
 tained a grateful sense of his late mas- 
 ter's favours, and, in process of time, he let 
 one of the best farms on his estate to the 
 very Tom Meredith who would have been 
 the Colonel's heir had he possessed any- 
 thing worth leaving behind him besides 
 his name. 
 
 2 2
 
 20 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 To return, then, to the sick chamber of 
 the ex-trainer. 
 
 " Mrs. Marks," said the invalid, opening 
 his eyes, after a short sleep. 
 
 Mrs. Marks went to his bed-side. 
 
 " Open the shutters, it must be day." 
 
 As she complied with his request, the 
 grey dawn of morning stole lazily into the 
 room, producing a ghastly effect upon the 
 still burning lamp. The air was mild and 
 soft, and the old woman opened the window 
 for a moment, as her patient complained of 
 the closeness of the room. He felt, he said, 
 pretty well, but a little faint — " Free from 
 pain, thank God." Then Mrs. Marks ad- 
 ministered his morning draught, and re- 
 placed his pillows, and made him as com- 
 fortable as she could, for he would have 
 nobody else to nurse him. And again he 
 lay back, calmly and composedly; but all
 
 THE TRIAL AT DATBUEAK ! 2i 
 
 this time he was waiting for Nat Grosling, 
 and that other summons, and he could not 
 tell which would come first. 
 
 A different scene was at that moment 
 enacting within a mile of the house. ISTob- 
 bley Hall was a moderately-sized house, of 
 the Elizabethan style of architecture — red 
 brick, gable ends, oriel windows, and a fine 
 entrance hall and staircase of the blackest 
 oak. The park extended beyond the lawn, 
 which was laid out in handsome terraces 
 for a long distance, till it mingled itself in- 
 sensibly with the open and moorland coun- 
 try beyond. A part of it had been made, 
 by its previous owners, a private course, 
 and it had been improved and enlarged by 
 John Sykes, whose passion for horses and 
 the sports of the field knew no bounds. 
 He had, as he boasted, bred them, trained 
 them, and run them; but since he had
 
 22 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 lived at Nobbley Hall he had never backed 
 them. 
 
 At the further end of this course, on the 
 morning in question, in the dim uncertain 
 light, were four persons ; two of them were 
 on horseback, the others were on foot. 
 
 The two on foot were Nat Gosling, the old 
 groom so anxiously expected by his dying 
 master ; the other was a fine looking young 
 fellow, called Tom Meredith, to whom I 
 have referred before as a tenant of old John 
 Sykes. More of them anon. Here it is suf- 
 ficient to sa}^, that he united to his occupa- 
 tion of tenant farmer that of private trainer ; 
 and he was intrusted by a few gentlemen 
 who kept a racehorse or steeplechaser in the 
 neighbourhood with the care of them. His 
 landlord gave him the use of the private 
 course for his trials, or the training of any- 
 thing particularly good. They were deep
 
 THE TRIAL AT DAYBREAK ! 23 
 
 in conversation, while the boys sat apart on 
 their horses, "keeping them gently moving 
 in a small circle. 
 
 " We shall know in a minute or two, 
 Tom, whether the first trial was a mis- 
 take. I almost fancy it too good to be 
 true." 
 
 And Nat Grosling buried his hands deep 
 in the pockets of his drab trousers, and 
 turned over some loose money that was 
 lying there. It was a sharp-featured, intel- 
 ligent face, with some humour and York- 
 shire cunning, but not more of the latter 
 than might be considered provincial. 
 
 " I tell you, Nat," said the other, " the 
 riying Scud gave the old horse a seven- 
 pound beating, at even weights. I've given 
 the young one ten pounds more than the 
 other to carry this morning, and that's form 
 enough to win the Derby, now. If my
 
 24 THE TLTINa SCUD. 
 
 notion's correct, it'll be a race, and the old 
 one will win by a length." 
 
 " You're bard upon bim, Muster Tom." 
 
 " His legs are like iron ; and it's as well 
 to know tbe truth. There's a difference, 
 Nat, between galloping your horse's heart 
 out trying him, and never finding out what 
 he can do till it's too late to profit by it. 
 I'll take care he isn't scratched, because 
 we're forestalled." 
 
 " There ain't no one about, think ye, sir ? 
 because there's a precious lot o' rascals in 
 the country," said old Nat, looking suspi- 
 ciously round. 
 
 " They won't learn much from this trial, 
 at all events — it'll be all the other way. 
 Now, boys, come out of the cold behind the 
 trees there, and take off the clothes. Come 
 along quick all the way, and begin racing 
 when you get into the hollow. Come away
 
 THE TRIAL AT DAYBREAK ! 
 
 with tlie old horse with all your might up 
 the hill, Eobert, and see how much you can 
 win by." 
 
 The boys got off, slipped off the clothing, 
 gave one look to the girths, and were lifted 
 back into the saddles. They went down 
 gently to the start, and in a minute or two 
 were seen coming along at a slashing pace, 
 but it was scarcely clear enough to distin- 
 guish, at that distance, between the two. 
 As they neared the clump of trees by which 
 they were to finish, they became more easily 
 distinguishable. Both horses were being 
 ridden, and, notwithstanding the weight, 
 the young one still held his own. 
 
 " The young 'un wins," said old Nat, in 
 a hoarse whisper, with his eyes half out of 
 his head with excitement. 
 
 " Not quite," said Tom ; " it's the last 
 squeeze of the lemon that will do it. No
 
 26 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 three-year old in England that ever was 
 foaled could win at the weiorht. But the 
 Derby is as good as in our pocket," added 
 he, as the horses rushed by, Flying Scud 
 struggling gallantly on up to the old one's 
 girths, and only succumbing at the last few 
 strides, under the crusher he was carrying. 
 
 " He's seven pounds better than one of 
 the best horses that ever looked through a 
 bridle, and twice as good as when he won 
 the Criterion in the autumn" — saying which, 
 Nat proceeded to assist the boys in their 
 labours — "and if he could but have gone 
 for the Two Thousand, he'd have been at 
 pretty short odds for the Derby — but we 
 must keep it dark." 
 
 In half-an-hour more he was at the bed- 
 side of his old master, and the two had got 
 the room to themselves. They were not to 
 be disturbed.
 
 THE TRIAL AT DAYBHEAK ! 27 
 
 If the reader imagines that there was 
 any great secret to be divulged, any terrible 
 murder to be expiated, or felony to be paid 
 for, he is much in error. Perhaps a more 
 enthusiastic person may expect a conversa- 
 tion more in accordance with the peculiari- 
 ties of the case. I am sorry to disappoint 
 him. 
 
 John Sykes seemed to have settled every- 
 thing of that kind to his satisfaction. He 
 only took Nat's hand, and drawing him 
 gently down towards him, whispered — 
 
 " Now, Nat, man, how did it go ? Is the 
 Flying Scud as good as 3^ou thought he 
 would be ? Has he won his trial ?" 
 
 And the old man was himself again for 
 a minute or two after Nat Grosling's aj^pear- 
 ance by his bedside. His eye assumed a 
 bright intelligence, which it had lacked the 
 last four-and-twenty hours ; his cheek had
 
 28 THE PLYING SCUD. 
 
 at least a tinge of blood returning to it, if 
 not the hues of health ; and his sharp fea- 
 tures expanded with a warmth which no 
 other subject had ever roused in them, even 
 in earlier days. 
 
 "Aye, sir, is he ? hist, master, not so 
 loud," replied IS'at, bending down to whis- 
 per, and overburthened with the importance 
 of the intelligence. " He gave the old 'un 
 ten pounds for a mile and three-quarters, 
 and ran up to his girths. It's scA^en pounds 
 
 in hand now, and you'll see ■" and here 
 
 the old man stopped, for he knew his master 
 never wo aid see his favourite colt again. 
 " But vou'll want to talk of somethino^ else," 
 said Nat, as he swallowed a rising tear, and 
 placed his thin, hard hand upon the trans- 
 parent fingers of his master. " You'll want 
 to talk of other things, but I thought you'd 
 like to hear it."
 
 THE TllIAL AT DAYBREAK ! 29 
 
 " And so I do, Nat ; so I do. It does me 
 good ; it makes me feel stronger ; but I 
 shan't get up again from here, and Fm glad 
 that it's Tom's nomination now, though I 
 didn't think of this when I gave it. I say, 
 Nat, it's no use to keep those other matters 
 that you're thinking of, for such a time as 
 this. They want all one's mind, and all 
 one's strength ; do 'em before you come to 
 this, and then you'll like to hear of a bit of 
 
 sj^ort when you can ; aye " and the old 
 
 man raised himself with more energy than 
 ]iis servant would have thought possible. 
 " Look here, man, I've done all that long 
 ago. I've thought of you all, when I was 
 in health. When your old master — I was 
 a servant once, you know, myself, Nat — is 
 dead and gone, you'll see I've forgotten no 
 one. But you want to talk, Nat Gosling ;" 
 and John Sykes laid his head once more on
 
 30 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 the pillow, and his white locks floated round 
 him. 
 
 " Don't 'ee he angry, master/' said Nat, 
 whimpering ; '' don't ye take it amiss, hut 
 Muster Meredith — he'll feel it most. Have 
 ye done ought hy him ? He's no lease ; he's 
 spent his life and his money on the land, 
 and I doubt your nephew '11 be but a hard 
 task-master. Poor Tom ! He's to be mar- 
 ried to Kate some day. If it's not too late, 
 
 and ye could help him a bit ye '11 mind 
 
 it would all a' been his, if the old Squire 
 Meredith had been a bit harder wi' some of 
 us. I'm an old man, and shall soon follow 
 you, but I'om's got all the world before 
 him, and if anything wor to happen to 
 Flying Scud, he'd be a beggar to-morrow. 
 Yoii owe him a turn, master, for the old 
 place, and all that's gone from him. Do it, 
 before it's too late, and "
 
 THE TRIAL AT DAYBREAK ! 31 
 
 Jolin Sykes closed liis liand tighter and 
 tighter on that of his old servant, then 
 closed them both upon his breast, his eyes 
 opened once more with a cheerful smile, his 
 head fell back upon his pi]lo^Y, and he was at 
 rest for ever. 
 
 Nat Gosling was rather uncomfortable for 
 some time after John Sykes' death. He did 
 not quite know what to make of that last 
 squeeze. Did it mean that all was right, or 
 did it mean "Grood-bye, Nat — mind your 
 own business." He couldn't make it out, 
 and he brushed his hat with his coat sleeve 
 half-a-dozen times a-day, and smoothed down 
 his closely-cropped iron-grey hair, and said 
 to himself — > 
 
 " Poor Tom ! now what will he be doing 
 with this Captain Grindley Goodge. They're 
 no great friends ; Tom's a deal too honest 
 for him." For Nat knew very well that a
 
 32 THE I'LYIXG SCUD. 
 
 Derby nomination, even with Tlyiug Scud, 
 was but a small fortune for a man like Tom, 
 if it did come off riglit, and a terribly beavy 
 blow if it didn't. However, there was 
 nothino: to be done or known till after the 
 funeral, so he went on with his work, and 
 said nothing: about the last moments of John 
 Sykes to anybody. 
 
 " It was a good trial, anyhow, and it 
 ought to be a few thousand pounds in his 
 pocket, to a certainty, if he only works the 
 oracle right. There's nobody knows it yet 
 but our two selves, and we shan't split. The 
 boys don't know nothing about the weights, 
 and I think they're safe enough." 
 
 Eut it so happened that one other person 
 had seen the trial, and flattered himself that 
 he knew all about it, too.
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 HOW TO WIN AT ]6CARTE. 
 
 On the morning following that on which 
 the trial of Flying Scud, and the death of 
 old John Sykes took place, we must ask the 
 reader to accompany us to a very handsome 
 suite of apartments in a quiet, old-fashioned 
 street at the back of Langham Place. The 
 situation was one which might have been 
 selected for purposes of literary seclusion, or 
 for that retirement which severity seeks in 
 the midst of sensual excitement. Its object 
 in the present case was a less worthy one, 
 as will be seen. 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 THE FLYI^^G SCUD. 
 
 The rooms — wliicli were on tlie first-floor 
 — were, as we have said, very handsome ; 
 large, lofty, well furnished, with an air of 
 costly comfort about them, and opening 
 into each other by large folding doors, 
 which were now closed. The front room 
 was light, and its three large windows looked 
 upon the street. The back room was darker, 
 and a large bow window opened upon some 
 leads, which were surrounded by lattice- 
 work, and ivy, with other evergreens. This, 
 in itself, tended to darken the room, and 
 give a mysterious solemnity to its appear- 
 ance. It gave it also a pretty rural aspect, 
 and this quasi-garden could be used in the 
 summer as an additional smoking room. 
 The houses behind receded, so that it left 
 nothing to be desired on the score of air and 
 privacy. 
 
 The back room alone was tenanted, and
 
 HOW TO WIN AT :6CARTE. 35 
 
 that by one man, who was emploj^ed, or 
 about to employ himself, in a singular man- 
 ner. He looked into the front room, in 
 which were the empty breakfast cup and 
 saucer, plates, teapot, and morning paper. 
 He at once walked to the door which led 
 into that room from the top of the stairs, 
 and locked it. He then performed the same 
 office by the folding doors, and the smaller 
 door which communicated with the back 
 room from the same staircase ; he was by 
 this means safe from intrusion, or the possi- 
 bility of supervision. He drew down the 
 blind of the window which looked on to his 
 modest flower garden, and from the table- 
 drawer of a card table, took two packs of 
 cards. He then divested himself of his 
 morning dressing-gown, which had higher 
 claims for its magnificence than its good 
 taste, and commenced oj)erations. 
 
 3--2
 
 36 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 He slmffled the cards wifcli that rapidity 
 and neatness which is peculiar to conjurers 
 and croupiers, then cut them several times, 
 moving his hands with great dehcacy and 
 deliberation, and always looking at the cut 
 card, which was, I confess, out of all pro- 
 portion, an honour. He then made several 
 " passes " with the cards, sometimes success- 
 fully, but not invariably so. Eemoving his 
 rings, which seemed to occupy too much of 
 his fingers for a man w^ho did not want them 
 to look at (vanit}^ is the ruin of us all !), he 
 repeated these until he became more and 
 more perfect. 
 
 Then he dealt the cards as for ecarte, and 
 turning np what seemed to be the eleventh 
 card, at first wdth much deliberation, and 
 afterwards with greater quickness, produced 
 invariably the bottom card of the pack in 
 its place. It's as well to know that this is
 
 HOW TO WIN AT ^CARTE. 37 
 
 sometimes done, as well as yourself; but the 
 lesson is given not for imitation. He varied 
 his performances with corks and balls, and 
 especially with dice, which formed a very 
 prominent part of his manipulations, the 
 object of which was to conceal as many of 
 these things as possible about his fingers, 
 showing an open and apparently empty palm. 
 He was at length satisfied with his per- 
 formance. 
 
 "Devilish good," said he to himself; "I 
 think that will do." 
 
 But he had not quite finished. He drew 
 the curtains closer, and lighted two wax 
 candles, which he placed at opposite corners 
 of the table. He then dealt the cards, as for 
 whist. Having spread the cards to each hand, 
 as widely as he well could do, he began scruti- 
 nizing them closely, at certain distances from 
 the table, so as to catch the light upon them
 
 38 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 at certain angles. Then lie turned certain 
 of them over as he looked, which proved to 
 be aces, kings, queens, or knaves. He 
 seemed scarcely- satisfied with this, for he 
 took some of them close to the taper, and 
 began examining the corners Avith extreme 
 care. It was a curious occupation for an Irish 
 gentleman, at eleven o'clock in the morning. 
 
 He was thoroughly engrossed in his occu- 
 2)ation, when a gentle knock at the door 
 startled him. He hastilj' put on his dress- 
 ing-gown, dropping the cards and dice into 
 his pocket, and blowing out the candles. 
 The knock was repeated, and then he went 
 to the door. 
 
 " Ah ! uncle, late again last night," said 
 the visitant, looking at the table and the 
 candles. " Here's Mr. Chouser coming up 
 the street, and, as you told me to let you 
 know ^"
 
 HOW TO WIN AT J^CARTE. 39 
 
 The speaker was a marvel of Irisli beauty. 
 Ever}" feature was j)erfect; and slie was 
 tall, and beautifully made, with a manner 
 as graceful and dignified as if she had been 
 a duchess. Her eyes were large and 
 lustrous, and she was admirably dressed, 
 as only Englishwomen dress in the early 
 morning. 
 
 *' Thanks, Julia ; Chouser, did you say ? 
 Bedad, it's all right; ye '11 tell the page 
 to show him into the front drawing-room, 
 where I'm at breakfast, me child ;" and 
 Major Mulligan retired at once, while 
 Julia Latimer, for that was the name 
 of the Milesian beauty, beat a retreat as 
 hastily to her own room on the floor 
 above. 
 
 Julia Latimer was Major Mulligan's 
 niece. 
 
 *' Mr. Chouser, sir," said the page ; and
 
 40 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 most people know wliat an Irishman's page 
 is. This was no exception to the usual 
 lodging-house shoe-black and knife-cleaner. 
 Mr. Chouser, however, walked in with an 
 easy assurance worthy a groom of the 
 chambers and a couple of footmen in attend- 
 ance ; and he and Major Mulligan scarcely 
 thought it necessary to inquire after each 
 other, having parted about half-past three 
 in the morning at the club. His fingers 
 were at that moment jingling some of the 
 sovereigns he had won of young Lightly of 
 the — nd. 
 
 " Chouser, my boy, you're the very man 
 I wanted to see. I've a letter from York- 
 shire. The Criterion colt. Flying Scud, 's 
 not up to the mark. He's been well beat 
 in his trial, and the party won't have him 
 at any price for the Derby. I always 
 said he was an overrated horse from the
 
 HOW TO AV^IN AT ECARTE. 41 
 
 beginning. I shouldn't wonder if he went 
 a roarer." 
 
 " Is the information good, Mulligan ? 
 Those Yorkshire Tykes are rum ones to 
 deal with," said the wary Chouser. 
 
 " Good ? Is VYoodbie's acceptance good 
 for a thousand?" repHed the Major, by 
 another interrogation. 
 
 " Well. I hope so : so does Mo. Davis, 
 for he's discounted it for us. However, the 
 Derby colt busines>s is yours, and I suppose 
 you know it. If what you say is true, the 
 sooner the commission is out to lay against 
 him the better. If once he goes for the 
 Two Thou, (and it's pretty close), and his 
 pretensions are blown, we shall have to lay 
 thousands to a pony about it. He is at 
 nine to one now, and firm enough at that ; 
 at least he was so last night." 
 
 " Then be off as fast as you can, Chouser ;
 
 42 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 and tell Mo. Davis to lay all lie can, on tlie 
 quiet, against the horse, and let us know 
 wliat he's done by to-night. There's the 
 note ; read it yourself." 
 
 Chouser took the paper — read it hastily 
 — concluding, half aloud, in the language 
 of the Yorkshire missive, " ' Hold 'orse 
 won heasy, 'ard 'eld.' Yes, all right — I 
 see. But, I say. Mulligan, Mo. is such a 
 frightful snob." 
 
 " So he is, Chouser ; but there's more of 
 them where he came from. He is not so 
 bad as he's painted. He's an honest man 
 in the way of per centage by the side of 
 Lawyer Shavecote. Besides, we can't do 
 without him, so we must be civil ;" con- 
 vinced by which argument Chouser went to 
 Tattersall's in search of Mo. Davis, who was 
 trading there on his own account with some 
 paper that wanted a better name upon it
 
 HOW TO WIN AT ECAKTE. 43 
 
 before lie could enable the gentleman to 
 settle his Northampton account at less than 
 one hundred and sixty per cent. He called 
 it forty, but that means forty per cent, for 
 three months. 
 
 About four hours, or more, after the visit 
 of Chouser, by which time Major Mulligan 
 had dressed himself somewhat more elabo- 
 rately, there came a second knock at the 
 door, and this time it was a certain Captain 
 Grrindley Goodge, who followed the page 
 into the front room. Captain Groodge was 
 precisely the sort of person one might 
 have expected to meet anj^where in com- 
 pany with the Irish major. There was a 
 dashing, easy assurance about him which 
 was as national as the full-blown swagger 
 and assumed tone of honest independence of 
 Major Mulligan, the roll of whose brogue, 
 hat, and address were certainly the most
 
 44 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 insolent on record. He was proud of them 
 all, but more so of his connection with Castle 
 Mulligan ; and it would have been difficult 
 to say whether the Castle derived its im- 
 portance from the Major, or Major Mulligan 
 his from the Castle. It belonged to a dis- 
 tant relation, who did duty for an uncle or 
 a brother, as might be most useful at the 
 time. On one occasion only had he stood 
 for a father, and then the necessity of the 
 case must plead for the adoption. It's a 
 wise son that knows its own father ; and the 
 Major may be excused from labouring under 
 so universal an ignorance. 
 
 " I've some news for you, Goodge, me 
 boy. I've sent out a commission to lay the 
 last shilling that — that — we ever will 
 have against the Flying Scud for the 
 Derby." 
 
 Captain Goodge smiled, and said :
 
 HOW TO WIN AT ^.CAllTE. 45 
 
 " What ! tlien you've heard the news 
 already !" 
 
 " News, faith ! it's no news to me : 1 
 said the horse 'ud go a roarer ; they most of 
 'em do now. I suppose it's the atmos- 
 phere ; but there's the letter." 
 
 The Captain took the letter, looking, at 
 the same time, a little astonished. He re- 
 turned it with a compliment on the ortho- 
 graphy, and with a remark that spel- 
 ling and honesty did not always go to- 
 gether. 
 
 "By no means," said the Major, with a 
 broader brogue than usual ; " there's more 
 of us gets into mischief by readin' and 
 writin', and wdiy not by spellin', than by 
 the want of 'em. But you don't seem to 
 see the pull we'll get out of it. There's 
 Woodbie, and the Duke, and all the New- 
 market party are very sweet on the Scud ;
 
 46 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 and if Mo. goes to work judiciously, we'll 
 get all we want out of 'em at nine or ten to 
 one ; only we mustn't wait till the Two 
 Thousand, or there'll be all the loose fish 
 nibbling at the same worm." 
 
 '•' It don't much signify, Major, what 
 you've done about the horse. Perhaps 
 you're right, perhaps you're wrong. The 
 horse is mine." 
 
 Major Mulligan's face lengthened with a 
 stare of sublime astonishment. 
 
 " Yours ! what ! Flying Scud ? What ! 
 the old gentleman given him to you ?" 
 
 " The old blackguard, who's hardly given 
 me a shilling since I came home from India, 
 is dead, MulHgan ; and the property's mine, 
 and the Scud with it. He promised me 
 once, and he hasn't another near relation in 
 the world." 
 
 " Then so much the worse," said the
 
 HOW TO AVIN AT liCAllTE. 47 
 
 Major, '' for the nomination's void, and he 
 won't start." 
 
 " Never mind, we must put that right 
 some other way. What do you think of 
 Nobbley Hall, and about five thousand a 
 year ? We'll see if we can't make the Scud 
 useful for some other purposes yet. The 
 Derby's not the only race to be lost. 
 Doesn't your mouth water at the handicaps 
 in prospect ? I think we shall be able to 
 do the Admiral yet. I owe him a turn or 
 two, and so do you." 
 
 Most dishonest men are in his debt. 
 
 " Groodge, I congratulate you." Here he 
 shook hands with the cmpressement of an 
 Irishman. " I suj)pose the old man's death 
 will be known before long, and the sooner 
 we can stop old Mo. from talking the 
 better. I'll be off now. The death was 
 sudden."
 
 48 THE TLYING SCUD. 
 
 " Very. He was taken with paralysis 
 about a week ago, and died yesterday morn- 
 ing at daybreak. The letter desires me to 
 go down directly, and, as the next of kin, I 
 shall take possession, as far as ma}" be. I 
 shall go down and see the place to-morrow, 
 and if you and Chouser like to go down too, 
 wh}^, so much the better." 
 
 Mo. Davis had fully succeeded in effect- 
 ing his commission, and as plenty of friends 
 came to the rescue of the Criterion winner, 
 tliere was no great alteration in his price for 
 the present. Then it oozed out that some- 
 thing was wrong. The Gloicioorm sounded 
 the note of alarm. Pholus said the owner 
 was dead. Hotspur, of the Telegrapli, de- 
 clared it was the trainer only, and that the 
 animal's position was unaffected by it. Bell 
 said both were dead, and Argus, of the Fosf, 
 had it, " From the most reliable authority,"
 
 ilOW TO WIN AT ECARTIC. 49 
 
 that nothing was dead but the Scud him- 
 self, "who was as good as boiled." The 
 Sjporting Gazette said it Avas impossiljle that 
 the Scud could have broken down ; he was 
 as firm on his pins as an oak table sur- 
 rounded by legs. The Admiral was be- 
 sieged with letters and queries. '' Where 
 did the bets go ? what became of the nomi- 
 nation ? could a man give a nomination away 
 without his horse, or his horse without the 
 nomination? what became of the double event 
 if he could run for the Two Thousand and 
 not for the Derb}', or the reverse?", with 
 many other knotty points, all hypothetically 
 based upon nothing : to which the Admiral 
 (there is but one) replied with his usual 
 talent and courtesy ; and from which we 
 began to doubt whether the derivation of 
 the latter word might be '' court" instead of 
 " cour." The public, as usual, sapiens et 
 VOL. I. 4 ..
 
 50 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 rex, if not potus etertex, said that the whole 
 British Turf, King, Lords, and Commons, 
 were a d — d set of swindlers together, 
 which showed that they knew nothing 
 ahout the business. In fact the w^orld was 
 utterly in the dark for the present about 
 Flying Scud, excepting that dead or alive 
 he still stood at about ten to one.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A SPORTING LAWYER AND HIS CLIENTS. 
 
 In a small country town, a short distance 
 from Nobbley Hall, and half a mile from 
 the railway station, which we call Middle- 
 thorpe, there was a large and imposing- 
 looking white house. It had several win- 
 dows in front, and looked altogether honest 
 and open to inspection, such as a lawyer's 
 house ought to look. On one side of the 
 hall were the apartments in which Mrs. 
 Quail received the wives of the doctor, the 
 curate, the principal fiirmers, and the head. 
 
 4—2 
 
 UNIVERSITY OJ^ 
 ILLINOIS UBRAIW
 
 52 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 linen-draper, wlio was also the banker. On 
 the other were the business-like looking 
 offices of Quail himself; a man well to do 
 and of good report, better even than law- 
 yers in general; and, more extraordinary 
 sti]], in some things not undeserving of 
 the confidence reposed in him. The only 
 impudent thing about the house w^as its 
 very green door, with its very bright brass 
 knocker, which separated Quail the Social 
 from Quail the Affaire, or Official. 
 
 In that little office, three days after the 
 death of old John S3^kes, sat Mr. Quail the 
 lawyer, his confidential man of business, 
 who had invested his money, engaged his 
 tenants, eaten his dinners, admired his 
 horses, and made his will. It was a dusty- 
 looking place, for no servant was allowed to 
 enter it excepting under the guidance of 
 Quail himself, who knew the value of his
 
 A SPORTING LAWYER AND HIS CLIENTS. 53 
 
 documents and the intelligence and discre- 
 tion of his housemaid too well to trust them 
 together. He was a sharp-featured person, 
 with clear grej eyes, and his hair was be- 
 ginning to match them. 
 
 " Come in," said he, hastily- recovering 
 himself from a reverie into which he was 
 relapsing on John Sykes's affairs, which at 
 that moment were uppermost in his mind. 
 "Come in," and the ofl&ce-boy announced 
 Mr. Davis. " Tell him to sit down in the 
 outer office, as I am very much engaged for 
 a minute or two." 
 
 Mr. Quail only wanted time for a con- 
 jecture, and the consideration of how to act 
 in certain conditions ; so he soon rang his 
 bell, and the gentleman of whom we have 
 heard as Mo. Davis, which, by the way, was 
 an affectionate abbreviation for Moses, stood 
 before him.
 
 54 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 Mr. Quail saluted liim cordially, and mo- 
 tioned Mm to a seat. 
 
 " And what brings you here, Mr. Davis ?" 
 Mr. Quail never wasted time, excepting when 
 he felt that he was better paid for wasting 
 than using it. He spent plenty with John 
 Sykes, who dearly loved a gossip, but 
 had no idea how much it cost him. " You're 
 here on business, I suppose ?" 
 
 The retired tobacconist of the Quadrant, 
 who found money-lending and racing more 
 profitable than even his trade in regalias of 
 brandy and soda, looked up at the lawyer 
 almost coaxingly, and said — 
 
 *'Vell, yes. When will the vill be 
 read?" 
 
 " On Saturday, my good friend ; but you 
 didn't come here to learn that." 
 
 "How do you know that?" said the 
 other.
 
 A SPORTING LxVWYER AND HIS CLIENTS. 
 
 " Because you could have found it out 
 with much less trouble ; as soon as the old 
 man's buried, of course." 
 
 " Ah ! you lawyers, you know every- 
 thing. Veil, I didn't come here for that." 
 Here Moses assumed a serious face, and put 
 his question somewhat mysteriously. "Is 
 it all right with the Captain ? 'cos I don't 
 want to be put in the 'ole." 
 
 "Put in the hole ! What should you 
 be put in the hole for? You're not 
 dead." 
 
 Not a muscle of Lawyer Quail's face 
 moved. 
 
 " You know what I mean, Lawyer ; about 
 that thousand ]30und that Groodge owes me 
 — is it all right ?" 
 
 "Listen to me, Mr. Davis. We took 
 your instructions ; you instructed us to sue 
 Goodge." Here Mo. Davis drew a very
 
 56 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 long face, feeliDg that he had been guilty of 
 a great imprudence. 
 
 " But you never let my name out. There 
 vos a third party, you know — a party as had 
 a hinterest in the bill." 
 
 " Well," continued Quail, without noticing 
 the interruption, "we obtained judgment, 
 and were about to issue execution, when this 
 sudden and unfortunate death of the old 
 man happened. At the moment it wouldn't 
 be decent to proceed." 
 
 " Proceed ! no, I should think not. Stop 
 it by all means. He's my very good friend, 
 is Goodge. Poor boy ! I wouldn't hurt a 
 hair of his head. Oh, he'll pay ; he's honest 
 — when he's got the money. Issue execu- 
 tion I Vy, Lawyer Quail, vot a vampire you 
 are to turn round on him in that vay, just 
 ven he's got such a lot o' tin." 
 
 "As you please— as you please; only if
 
 A SPORTING LAWYER AND HIS CLIENTS. 57 
 
 you don't turn round on 'em wlien tliey've 
 got the tin, it's not much use turning round 
 at alL" 
 
 " It's a fine estate, Quail, and all in a ring 
 fence," said the Jew, brushing off a little 
 snuff from his shirt-frill, which, with his 
 thickly-folded white neckcloth, gave him a 
 most respectable appearance. 
 
 " What estate do you mean ?" inquired 
 the lawyer, looking as if he had lost the 
 thread of the conversation. 
 
 " Why, what estate should I mean ? The 
 Nobbley Hall estate, to be sure." 
 
 " 'Deed it is. Four thousand a-year, and 
 good tenants ; paying tenants, you know. 
 There isn't a bad man among 'em." 
 
 " Yot a unproductive neighbourhood to 
 live in," said Mo. Davis, giving his broad- 
 rimmed hat a turn with his broad-skirted 
 blue coat. "Never gets in debt, I suppose."
 
 68 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 " Only to lay it out on the land, or do a 
 bit o' draining/' 
 
 '* Oil, that's not much in my line ; but 
 they might want a thousand or two, and if 
 
 the per centage is , you know ." 
 
 Here he winked. 
 
 " Yes ; they're pretty liberal — high farm- 
 ing pays — five or six per cent, we can get 
 out of them." 
 
 Here Mo. Davis sighed deeply, once more 
 polished his hat, and shaking hands with 
 Lawyer Quail, turned towards the door, 
 muttering to himself, '' That's lucky : sue a 
 gent vat has just come into his four thou- 
 sand a year. No, no ; that vould never do. 
 I'll lend him some more." 
 
 Having quitted the lawyer's liouse, the 
 old money lender took his way along some 
 meadows towards the Hall, which, by the 
 short road, was about two miles distant
 
 A SPORTING LAWYER AND HIS CLIENTS. 59 
 
 from Middle tliorpe. As lie wandered along, 
 he pondered many things, and among others, 
 the fortunate event of his visit to Mr- 
 Quail. 
 
 He had no doubt that he would now be 
 paid by Captain Goodge, any money that 
 was due to him, and as that gentleman's 
 erratic course of life was sure to lead him into 
 fresh disasters, he calculated — not vaguely 
 — on having him again as a debtor, with a 
 handsome security to back him. He, there- 
 fore, proceeded on his walk with a sort of 
 personal interest in the property, and com- 
 menced, in his own mind, taking stock 
 of it. 
 
 As he approached Nobbley Hall, the water 
 meadows had been carefully drained, and 
 divided by high timber fences, over which 
 Mo. Davis could with difficulty, sec more 
 than the occasional head of a young tho-
 
 C)0 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 rouo^li-bred one, or a dam o:razin<>: in her 
 paddock, with a foal of six weeks or two 
 months old, at her feet. He saw that these 
 were, liowever, beautifully arranged ; that 
 each scjDarate paddock had a large, comfort- 
 able box, w^ith straw-yard attached to it, for 
 the benefit of the young stock ; and as the 
 old Jew's love of horseflesh and knowledge 
 of it extended no further than its capacity 
 as an instrument of plunder, he knew as 
 much of the value of the contents of those 
 fields, as if he had closely examined them 
 all. 
 
 The party which had arrived the day 
 before at the old hall, require a short des- 
 cription. They had — with the exception of 
 Mo. Davis — been accommodated at the hall, 
 not without much surprise on the part of 
 the old housekeeper, the servants, and Nat 
 Gosling, whose respect for their late master
 
 A SPORTING LAWYER AND iUS CLIENTS. Gl 
 
 emboldened tliem to remonstrate. It was 
 unavailing, liowever, for they were tliere as 
 guests of tlie new squire, who only wanted 
 the formal recognition of his claims after 
 the funeral of the late John Sykes, to com- 
 mence a new reign. He had found a room 
 at jSTat Gosling's for one of his confederates ; 
 the major and Mr. Chouser he had tahen 
 into the house with him. 
 
 There is always on the turf a class of 
 persons who are unique in one respect — a 
 community of interests. This community 
 of interests brings them together. However 
 heterogeneous the elements, one powerful 
 leaven leavens the w^hole lump. But beyond 
 that, there are quantities of men on the 
 English turf who have simply escaped 
 kicking, because they have not been detected 
 in gross fraud by those who are capable of 
 performing the operation, or who dislike the
 
 62 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 notoriety of horse-whipping even a swindler. 
 These men practise their operations with 
 impunity. They are not the intimate asso- 
 ciates of noblemen, of honest men, or good 
 sportsmen ; but they are obliged to be tole- 
 rated, because it is difficult, in a mass of 
 circumstantial evidence against them, to 
 establish a positive delinquency. They have 
 always sailed very near the wind without 
 coming to grief, and the consequence is 
 toleration. 
 
 As a boy, Captain Grindley Goodge was 
 handsome, idle, and dissipated ; but he had 
 certain qualities which rendered him ac- 
 ceptable to men of better position than him- 
 self His uncle educated him, and his 
 undoubted object was to make him his heir. 
 As he grew up, he displayed especially the 
 vices most distasteful to John Sykes : extra- 
 vagance and dishonesty. He was placed
 
 A SPORTING LAWYER AND HIS CLIENTS. 53 
 
 in a regiment ordered for foreign service, to 
 wean liim from his haunts and companions. 
 He returned with a slur upon his name, on 
 some gambling transaction, and sold out. 
 It was a slur which could not be acted upon 
 openly ; and he still enjoyed the protection 
 of a Club and the questionable countenance 
 of fast men upon town. His uncle still 
 made him an allowance, but declined to 
 receive more than a formal visit from him. 
 Half his talents in the concealment of vice 
 and rascality would have gained the man an 
 honest livelihood. He preferred tortuous 
 paths to straight ones ; and was in half 
 the robberies of the day ; but it would 
 scarcely have been safe to say so to his 
 face. 
 
 His friend Chouser was a fool as well as 
 knave, which the other was not. He, too, 
 had failed in gaining an honest livelihood
 
 G4 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 as a lawyer's clerk ; and findingi tlie Turf a 
 short and easy road to what he called 
 Society, he adopted it in its fullest extent. 
 To have booked a bet with a marquis was 
 only exceeded in enjoyment by the pleasure 
 of cheating him out of his money. He had 
 supplied the necessities of Ooodge from 
 the pockets of an unfortunate mother and 
 sister, and was now living in a piebald sort 
 of manner as his henchman, half pigeon and 
 half crow. 
 
 Major Mulligan was essentially different 
 from either. He was a man of good family 
 and position in a country where, to have 
 worked for his bread, would have brought 
 disgrace upon Castle Mulligan and all tliat 
 belonged to it. He started in life upon five 
 hundred pounds and an easy assurance, 
 which had increased with his knowledge of 
 billiards and the way to conceal his game.
 
 A SPORTINa LAWYER AND IITS CLIENTS. 65 
 
 At all games of cards he was an adept — 
 more than an adept. He was far the 
 cleverest of the confederates, and was pos- 
 sessed of a certain ease and polish in general 
 society which not even his roue life had 
 been able to abolish, or even much to de- 
 teriorate. He was the most accomplished 
 scoundrel of the three, and brought to the 
 general fund, besides his talents and 
 hardiesse, a most powerful auxiliary. 
 
 It seems that he had some heart, which 
 could be acted upon by certain impulses, a 
 thing to be said for neither Goodge, Chouser, 
 nor the Jew. Major Mulligan, who had 
 floated on the tide of society, by-the-bye, 
 since the day that he started in life on his 
 own account, had once had a sister. She 
 married a poor, but honourable man, who 
 had been simply ruined by Mulligan, by 
 backing his bills, and who died within a 
 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 OG THE TLYING SCUD. 
 
 very ace of beggary. He took some credit 
 to liimself for having clotlied and fed lier 
 for three years, with her only child, a 
 daughter, and for having then followed her 
 to the grave. Strict analysis of the Major's 
 character, makes us think that tliere was 
 some alloy in this virtue. A sister in a 
 workhouse was not at all suited to his 
 notions of the dignity of one of the Mulli- 
 gans of Castle Mulligan ; and, as his suc- 
 cesses had been beyond his expectations, I 
 might almost say his deserts, he extended 
 his benevolence to the orphan girl. When, 
 at the age of eighteen, she returned to the 
 Major's handsome apaiH:ments in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Langham-place, he had cause 
 to congratulate himself upon the acquisition 
 of a companion, the handsomest, and one of 
 the most accomplished girls in London. 
 From that day, his dinners, his card parties,
 
 A SPORTING LAWYER AND HIS CLIENTS. 67 
 
 his little suppers, were more recherche than 
 ever ; and the line that was held out to 
 them in so agreeahle an addition, Ijrought 
 troops of men of every class to his table. 
 A very beautiful face, which smiles over the 
 transaction, robs the pain of disturbing a 
 hundred or two at ecarte or billiards of half 
 of its sting, especially when it insures the 
 pleasure of revenge. 
 
 The sobriquet of these four men was not 
 legion, but quadruped, and the etymology 
 of the word, if we substitute " legs " for 
 " feet," makes its application more witty 
 than complimentary. 
 
 5—2
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 MASTER AND MAN. 
 
 Captain G-rindley G-oodge walked up and 
 down the morning room, whicli he perfumed 
 with one of the very best Colerados that Mr. 
 Groode, of the Poultry, could supply. He 
 was one of those persons who might have 
 boasted, like old Lord Spatchcock, Wood- 
 bie's uncle, on his death-bed, that he had 
 never denied himself anything, excepting, 
 he might have added, the luxury of an 
 honourable action. He was exceedingly 
 cheerful ; and as he surveyed the ample
 
 MASTER AND MAN. 69 
 
 hall, the substantial dining and breakfast 
 rooms, with their old-fashioned but massive 
 wainscoting and furniture, and looked 
 through the muUioned windows on the fair 
 prospect beyond, he thought of the remains 
 of his uncle, old John Sykes, which were 
 lying in a distant part of the house, only as 
 an incumbrance which would be removed 
 to-morrow. In the park he caught sight of 
 something which would have chased away 
 any feeling of respectable regret for the old 
 man. Three or four yearlings were being 
 led about by as many boys, while in the 
 centre of them stood the man with whom 
 the reader has been already made acquainted 
 as Tom Meredith, the tenant farmer and 
 trainer, and the late owner's right-hand 
 man. lie walked towards the party. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Meredith, I hope the young 
 ones are going on to your satisfaction."
 
 70 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 " Perfectly so, Captain Groodge," said the 
 trainer, not touching but raising his hat, 
 with perfect politeness and self-possession. 
 " We have a nice lot. That third colt is in 
 the Derby of 'G — , and as the Xewminster 
 and Arrow blood seems to nick " 
 
 '' If it's not an impertinent question, 
 might I ask how long you have been a 
 tenant of my late uncle's ? As you've had 
 the best farm on the estate you ought to 
 have driven a prosperous business." 
 
 " Tolerable. The fact is, Captain Groodge, 
 that your uncle treated nic with great kind- 
 ness. The farm was let to me upon an 
 average of two pounds an acre, though it's 
 worth four in the market ; for part of it is 
 accommodation land, and as to the build- 
 ings, why, I was never pressed about them, 
 for they were built at my expense." 
 
 "Then you're a fortunate man, Mr.
 
 MASTER AND MAN. 71 
 
 Meredith. I'm sony to say that the rents 
 must be raised after the next half-year, as 
 I'm not so able to afford reductions as my 
 uncle might have been ; and as to the pad- 
 docks, I intended to take those into my own 
 hands." 
 
 And although the Captain had said a hard 
 thing, he looked evilly, as if it had been 
 done designedly. 
 
 " The paddocks," replied the other. " I 
 shall be prepared to pay a full rental for 
 the land, sir, though your uncle has pro- 
 mised me a lease over and over again, of 
 the whole. But the paddocks. I hardly 
 see how I'm to get bread without them ; for 
 the little I ever had has been laid out on 
 them." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Meredith, I'm a poor man, or 
 shall be for some time ; and I must have 
 the paddocks for my own use."
 
 72 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 "You'll want a trainer." 
 
 " I should like a private one. I know 
 the rascality of the world." 
 
 Indeed, he did ; report said so, and Tom 
 Meredith was of report's opinion. 
 
 " I should be happy to give up all other 
 masters, if you desired it ; and as I know 
 the horses " 
 
 " Unfortunately, I have already engaged a 
 trainer." 
 
 " You've been quick about it, sir." 
 
 It was impossible to conceal from himself, 
 or from the Captain, that he detected the 
 falsehood. 
 
 *' But now we've settled that business, 
 just let me see the horses." 
 
 And they proceeded to inspect the stock 
 which was on the premises. 
 
 " And now for the Criterion colt, Flying 
 Scud; we'll look at him."
 
 MASTER AND MAN. 73 
 
 Tom Meredith looked up sharply, and 
 hesitated; but, apparently making up his 
 mind, said, " Then we must go to the other 
 stable. It's a little way from the house — 
 near my own cottage." 
 
 The Captain prepared to accompany 
 him. 
 
 *' And what do you think of him ?" 
 
 " I think very well of him." For Tom 
 would have declined answering altogether 
 (which a trainer or owner ought to do) rather 
 than have told a lie. " I think very highly 
 of him indeed." 
 
 " It's a pity he won't go for the D^rby," 
 said the Captain, maliciously. 
 
 Tom stared at him and repeated the 
 words slowly, ''but he will go for the 
 Derby." 
 
 " I should like to lay a thousand to ten 
 about it."
 
 74 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 " I shouldn't like to rob you, or I should 
 say ' done,' " replied Tom. 
 
 " The nomination's void. Besides, you 
 know he was beat in his trial ; though I 
 suppose you'd have persuaded me to back 
 him." 
 
 Tom Meredith turned suddenly round, 
 and confronted Captain Grrindley Goodge. 
 
 The two men were worth looking at as 
 they stood facing one another — the gentle- 
 man and the trainer. On the one side, the 
 pretender to fashion, the amateur sj)orts- 
 man, gloved, paletoted, chausse from Paris, 
 and clothed with sedulous care ; on the 
 other, the true lover of a horse, the health}^ 
 hardworking farmer, clothed in fustian, and 
 apparently indifferent to all ornament save 
 personal cleanUness. Eoth were good- 
 looking. The one neatly formed, with a 
 lithe, active-looking body, and dark, hand-
 
 MASTER AND MAN. 75 
 
 some features, with a cold, cautious look, 
 and closely compressed lips, wliicli opened 
 only to sneer or to sliow liis teeth, of a 
 sharp, fox-like shape and dazzling white- 
 ness ; the other, a fine, handsome, powerful 
 young man, of great frame, set off by no 
 advantages, with fair hair, and a clear, 
 wholesome complexion, clean shorn, and of 
 a most honest and open countenance. Cap- 
 tain Grrindley Croodge, in spite of his good 
 looks and good clothes, might have been 
 " nobody ;" Tom Meredith, in spite of his 
 bad ones, could not help looking like 
 /' somebody." 
 
 " First let me set you right," said Tom, 
 deliberately. " The nomination is not void, 
 for the colt is mine until after the Derby. 
 I'd a fancy for the strain, for the grand- 
 dam belonged to my uncle, whose ancestors 
 lived here for something like four cen-
 
 76 THE PLYING SCUD. 
 
 turies ; and your uncle gave me the nomi- 
 nation while the mare was in foal, and paid 
 for it in iny name. He was generous 
 enough, too, to promise the keep for him, 
 and in the event of his winning the Derby, 
 he was to have half the stakes. I shall 
 think it my duty to pay that to his resi- 
 duary legatee." 
 
 Here the captain condescended to laugh, 
 and added, carelessly enough — 
 
 " I presume you have all this in black 
 and white." 
 
 " Your uncle's word, sir, was as good as 
 his bond, and so is mine. If not, the nomi- 
 nation speaks for itself." 
 
 " As his trainer " recommenced Cap- 
 tain (jroodge. 
 
 " Flying Scud will be trained and run by 
 me until after the Derby. You will then 
 do as you please by the horse. I see, Cap-
 
 MASTEll AND MAN. 77 
 
 tain Goodge, you've been following your 
 betters in attempting to get information by 
 a means wbicli would have subjected, you 
 to a notice of dismissal from Newmarket. 
 Take my advice : back the borse if you 
 tbink bim good enongli. He'll bave an 
 bonest man on bim and about bim ; and 
 don't 3^ou go so far nortb on a touting 
 errand again, or you may cbauce to get 
 bitten. Now, if A^ou'd like to see tbe borse, 
 I'll sbow bim to you." 
 
 Captain Grindley Goodge, liaving ascer- 
 taiued. bej^ond all doubt tbat tbe trial, as 
 detailed to bim, bad taken place, bad sent 
 out an extra commission to lay ten tbou- 
 sand to one tbousand against bim. Had 
 be believed one word of Tom Mereditb's 
 caution be migbt bave felt less comfortable 
 tban be did. 
 
 When tbey readied tbe stables wbicb
 
 78 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 adjoined the trainer's cottage, it was found 
 that the Major, !Mr. Mo. Davis, and Mr. 
 Chouser had sauntered up to find the Cap- 
 tain, and that they were now in vain en- 
 deavouring* to get something out of old Nat 
 (jrosHng. Nat knew nothing, and w^ould 
 know nothing ; he believed everything to 
 be fair in love and horse-racing ; and though 
 he regarded a direct falsehood as rather be- 
 longing to the southern stables, he prided 
 himself greatly on the superior cunning of 
 Yorkshire and the north. 
 
 " The Scud," as he was familiarly called, 
 in Middlethorpe and in the Eing, w^henever 
 his name was mentioned tliere, was a beau- 
 tiful dark chesnut, with one white hind leg. 
 He was the Bird-on-the-Wing out of Cloud ; 
 and his granddam by Phantom, the pro- 
 perty of Colonel Lteredith, of Nobbley Hall, 
 had never been beat but once. Having
 
 MASTER AND MAN. 79 
 
 won the Criterion, at the Houghton Meet- 
 ing, in October, he had been kept for the 
 Two Thousand and Derby. He was long 
 and low, with a handsorae head and neck, 
 and full eye, which showed great temper; 
 his shoulders were beautiful, and his girth 
 deep, calculated for coming down or going 
 up the hills of the Surrey Downs ; his 
 quarters were a little coarse, as he was 
 ragged-hipped, but he had plenty of width 
 and powerful thighs and hocks. Such was 
 Flying Scud, when he greeted the eyes of 
 the confederates on the morning in ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " Oh, he's a beauty, s^elp me !" said Mo. 
 Davis, who thought this was a perfectly safe 
 remark. 
 
 " Arn't his hocks rather large ?" inquired 
 Mr. Chouser, who knew as much about 
 horses as most betting men.
 
 so THE PLYING SCUD. 
 
 Major Mulligan said nothing ; but be- 
 lieving his chance for the Derby to be void, 
 and the bets off, secretly congratulated 
 himself on havin^f so formidable a lookinp- 
 candidate for the Blue Eiband out of the 
 Avay. 
 
 " He's eighteen pounds better than when 
 he won the Criterion," said the Major to 
 himself, as he turned to leave the box with 
 his companions. 
 
 At that moment a girl of considerable 
 beauty of the blue -eyed and golden-haired 
 type, so amenable to the vicious propen- 
 sities of a Lucrezia Borgia or a Madame 
 Brinvilliers, and who appear to flourish 
 wherever any poisoning or crime on a grand 
 scale is to be committed, rode into the yard. 
 She had a round, compact little figure, and 
 looked, with perfect self-possession and some 
 surprise, at the assembled guests of John
 
 MASTER AND MAN. 81 
 
 Sykes' next of kin. She seemed, however, 
 quite equal to the occasion, and handled her 
 good-looking horse, as he pawed, impa- 
 tiently, to get to his stable-door. The 
 Major took off his hat, Chouser stood with 
 the impudence which is always at the com- 
 mand of an ex-professional lawyer's clerk, 
 and the Jew was Vv^ondering, in his own 
 mind, how long such a thing was likely to 
 last in a farmer's family, without an appli- 
 cation for an advance and a handsome per- 
 centage. 
 
 " That's a good-looking hack," said Cap- 
 tain Grindley Goodge ; ''is that one of my 
 late uncle's, Mr. Meredith ?" 
 
 " I've always ridden him, but as he be- 
 longs to me only by the kindness of my late 
 landlord, I presume I must give him up. 
 However, I'm too heavy for him, and as 
 he's rather fresh, I got Miss Eideout to ex- 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 82 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 ercise liim lor me. She has ridden him 
 chiefly for the last three months. She'll be 
 sorry to part with her favourite." 
 
 " Miss Eideout— what, Kate ?" replied 
 Captain Goodge, hastening at once towards 
 her, and almost anticipating Tom in assist- 
 ing Kate to dismount. "Is it possible 1 
 but it's seven years since we've seen each 
 other, Kate, and in you it has made a dif- 
 ference. You will scarcely remember your 
 old playmate, cither. I've been to India, 
 and half over the world since then. It 
 never occurred to me to ask old Nat Gos- 
 ling or Mr. Meredith after you ; I should 
 have thought you were married long ago — • 
 as you ought to have been." 
 
 And Kate Eidcout blushed and laughed, 
 not altogether ungratified with the praise of 
 a good-looking soldier, who was likely to be 
 the landlord and master of her grandfather
 
 MASTEJl AND MAN. 83 
 
 and lover. For Tom Meredith and Kate 
 Rideout, thougli not absolutely engaged to 
 one another, were likely to be so when 
 certain conditions were fulfilled. Cap- 
 tain Grrindley Goodge seemed mightily 
 taken with the pleasant reminiscences of 
 his childhood ; and while Tom Meredith 
 and Nat Gosling showed his friends over 
 the rest of the stabling, holding forth first 
 on the merits of a filly foal, or a brood mare, 
 then of a Burleigh or Fawsley short-horn, 
 or even of a Fisher Hobbs, or Felix Hall 
 boar, he disappeared with Kate from the 
 scene altogether. They were found in the 
 old man's cottage some half-hour afterwards, 
 still reviving old recollections and earlier 
 years, when the Captain had nothing above 
 a white lie, as old Xat observed, to answer 
 for, and Kate was always begging him off 
 from John Sykes, who even then used 
 
 6—2
 
 84 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 to express liis suspicions of Grrindley's 
 futurity. 
 
 A word about Kate Eideout. Nobody, 
 except old Nat Gosling, knew much of her 
 history. She had been an inmate of his 
 cottage ever since she had been a bab}', 
 having appeared there somewhat mysteri- 
 ousl}^ some twenty years ago. From that 
 day Nat's cottage assumed a better appear- 
 ance. A respectable woman was engaged 
 to look after the child ; in process of time 
 sIk* was miicli at the hall, and was taken 
 away to a boarding-school of tolerable re- 
 pute, and considerably above the ordinary 
 mark of a mere village education. And 
 Kate not only became a scliolar, so as to 
 keep certain mysterious books connected 
 with Nat Gosling's dealings with the 
 Squire, but played and sang in her way 
 prettily enough, understood something of
 
 MASTER AND MAN. 85 
 
 French, and grew up a village belle. She 
 was the life and soul of the place, and 
 everybody loved her. When Grindley 
 Goodge w^as at his uncle's for the holiday s 
 Kate was his playmate, and people did say 
 that the old man would willingly have seen 
 them grow up together, and become joint 
 proprietors of his property; but when the 
 debts and dishonesty of the young man 
 came home to John Sykes, and his black 
 reputation preceded him wherever he went, 
 he took care that they should not see too 
 much of one another by his good will. She 
 was a good girl, an honest, affectionate girl, 
 and fit to be any man's wife ; and when 
 Tom Meredith hinted to his landlord his 
 own hopes and wishes, John Sykes gave 
 him his hand and his promise that he 
 should not want a lease of his farm, or a 
 friend at his back to accomplish the main
 
 86 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 purpose of his life. Dcatli, not sudden but 
 unlocked for, prevented the fulfilment of 
 these promises, and the heir presumptive of 
 Nobbley Hall had shown no great inclina- 
 tion to carry them out.
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 A SLIGHT MISTAKE. 
 
 ''Why, master, what's the matter?" said 
 old Nat, an hour or two afterwards, walking 
 into Tom Meredith's neat little parlour; 
 "you seem down i' th' mouth." 
 
 " So will you be, old man, when I tell 
 you all. The rent of tlie farm is to be 
 doubled." 
 
 "And you'll pay it, I go bail. Master 
 Meredith. It's worth it." 
 
 " And the paddocks and training business 
 are to be taken away."
 
 88 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 " Whew," whistled the old man. " That's 
 bad. Who told you that ?" 
 
 " Captain Goodge himself. You know I 
 was to have had a lease of the property this 
 year : and I looked for it, Nat Gosling, not 
 for myself — for I can't starve while there's 
 honest work to be done — but for Kate. 
 You know how she's been brought up, and 
 though I believe in her love for me, I can't 
 ask her to share a labourer's cottage, when 
 she's been taught to expect the comforts of 
 an independent home. It's beginning life 
 again, Nat, and though we're still young, 
 we're too old for that." And Tom Meredith 
 looked doleful enough. 
 
 " I can't believe it," replied the old stable- 
 man, taking three or four sententious whiffs 
 at his pipe, by wa}^ of consolation. " He 
 was always a bad boy — a lying young rascal 
 as ever lived, but he was no that malicious
 
 A SLIGHT MISTAKE. 89 
 
 to rob a man of his bread. He don^t like 
 none o' your name, mayhap, for it partly 
 puts his pipe out ; but he was fond of Kate, 
 and when he knows the truth, he w^on't be 
 hard on 3^ou. I dare say we've put him in 
 the hole, too, about t' Scud, for he thought 
 he was his own, and these d — d scoundrels 
 can make more by losing, than by winnin', 
 you see. Howsomdever, cheer up. Master 
 Meredith. Who knows what the old gentle- 
 man has done for us ?" 
 
 " We shall hear the day after to-morrow, 
 I suppose," rejoined Tom. "In the mean- 
 time, keep up Kate's spirits, and don't say 
 a word to her about the business. I'll be 
 down when the horses are done up, and I've 
 got rid of the bo3^s for the night." 
 
 Lawyer Quail had had liberal orders given 
 to invite all the tenants to attend, after 
 placing their old landlord in the grave.
 
 90 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 The luncheou was to be laid in the old hall 
 at three o'clock, when the will was to be 
 read, and not only were the peoj^le to hear 
 the last of their old master, but to be pre- 
 pared for the reception of the new. Captain 
 Grindley Groodge had not condescended to 
 communicate personally with Mr. Quail on 
 the subject, but his friends had been re- 
 quested to transmit some directions to him 
 on the subject of the property, and had 
 most officiously sounded this flourish of 
 trumpets in the saturnine lawyer's ears. 
 
 " Raise all the rents," said the iron-grey 
 badger to himself. " Raise the devil ! If 
 Grindley Goodge wants to hear something 
 to his advantage, he'd better not apply to 
 Lawyer Quail." 
 
 But he listened attentively, notwithstand- 
 ing. The arrangements for the funeral were 
 in the lawyer's hands.
 
 A SLIGHT ]MISTAKE. 91 
 
 There are men who have a good, strong, 
 wholesome belief, through good report and 
 evil report, that everything that is, is for the 
 best. All hail to such men 1 Theirs is a 
 courage to be proud of. Men whom no 
 doubts nor certainties of ill ever turn aside 
 from the right path ; who have patience to 
 bear and forbear ; and who are rewarded in 
 the end. 
 
 Now Tom Meredith was a good man ; no 
 man better, as far as his light went. He 
 was honest, affectionate, industrious, charit- 
 able ; but he was not patient, and didn't 
 think that stunning blow^s and heavy disap- 
 pointments were decided benefits. So it 
 came to pass, that when his affliction found 
 him out (and it did so after a time), his 
 valour resembled rather that of the wrathful 
 Achilles, than of the patient Job. 
 
 Now let us go back to Kate. Kate was
 
 02 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 by nature and education a thorough woman. 
 She was a sort of pet of the village, and I 
 never saw a girl in my life, with Kate 
 Eideout's particular nose, who was not flat- 
 tered — rather unduly — by a little admira- 
 tion. She had been accustomed to hunt, 
 and as she Avas always well mounted, and 
 rode with as little judgment as women 
 usually do ; and as everybody knew her for 
 neither more nor less than a granddaughter 
 of Nat Gosling, everybody was civil and 
 kind to the girl. Even as she got older, the 
 young squires, and the fast men who came 
 from the barracks, thought no ill of Kate, 
 and if she couldn't have a companion or two 
 to ride with her, or see her on her way to- 
 wards home, she was quite able to take care 
 of herself. 
 
 But beyond Kate's natural love of power 
 and admiration, she had a great anxiety to
 
 A SLIGHT MISTAKE. 93 
 
 make Tom Meredith feel that she had some 
 strength of her own to bring to the common 
 stock, if it ever should be their luck to come 
 together. And certainly the one I am about 
 to divulge was a great opportunity ; she 
 was going to make Tom's fortune, whatever 
 might come of it, and she should reserve to 
 herself the pleasure and the time of telling 
 him so. 
 
 To understand the dramatic situation of 
 our tale, it will be necessary to understand 
 the situation of the three houses in question. 
 If straight lines had been drawn from the 
 hall to Nat Gosling's cottage, and from the 
 cottage to Meredith's farm-house, and again 
 from the farm-house to the hall, they would 
 have formed the three sides of a triangle, of 
 which Gosling's cottage would have been the 
 obtuse angle. Near Nat's house, and on one 
 side of it, was a thick plantation, with a not
 
 94 TUE 1' LYING 8CUD. 
 
 very much frequented path and stile, run- 
 ning through it ; the path, leading directly 
 to the back door of 'Nat's house, and used 
 only by the servants or stable boys in pass- 
 ing from one house to the other. In coming 
 rom Meredith's house to Nat's, the footpath 
 ran close outside of this spinney, coming 
 into the same entrance, ancZ usually followed 
 by travellers between the two. 
 
 Day was waning, but it had been pro- 
 longed by a lovely and bright sunset, and 
 the moon was just rising in the opposite 
 quarter, when Tom Meredith started for the 
 old stableman's cottage. He was endeavour- 
 ing to look his blighted prospects honestly 
 in the face, throuc^li the medium of a conso- 
 latory pipe, as he walked cjuickl}^ on. In 
 every phase of the vision he saw one figure, 
 which, while it added j^oignancy to his re- 
 grets, gave fresh courage to his determina-
 
 A SLIGHT MISTAKE. 95 
 
 tion. He had just made up Lis mind to a 
 bold fight with fortune, when he reached the 
 corner of the plantation, within a few yards 
 of the stile. His steps were arrested by the 
 sound of voices which he knew. Yes, there 
 could be no doubt about it, they were 
 those of Captain Grindle}^ Goodge and Kate 
 Eideout. 
 
 Now Tom was not an evesdropper, and 
 liis first impulse was to have interrupted the 
 conversation by breaking in abruptly upon 
 it. Second thoughts — which are not always 
 best — determined him upon halting a mo- 
 ment to make sure. 
 
 " Then you promise, Captain Goodge P" 
 said Kate, in her most coaxing tone, and 
 one which Tom knew well. 
 
 " Why should you doubt me, Kate ? 
 You know I'd do anything to please 
 you."
 
 96 THE TLYING SCUD. 
 
 " Ah, you gentlemen, you often sa}' one 
 thing, and mean another." 
 
 " Gentlemen, indeed. Where did you form 
 your notion of gentlemen, I should like to 
 know ? Haven't I always been kind to you, 
 Kate?" 
 
 And it is not to be wondered at that these 
 softly-spoken queries should liave caused a 
 strong convulsion in Tom Meredith's feel- 
 ino:s ; so with trembling]: limbs and bated 
 breath, he waited for his darling's answer. 
 
 " Yes, you have ; and when others thought 
 ill of 3^ou, and spoke against you, I always 
 took your part," replied Kate. 
 
 " And I deserved it of you, at all events. 
 So we shall meet again soon. Come, Kate, 
 you must promise something on your part 
 too, you know." 
 
 " Oh, Captain Goodge, you know we shall 
 meet again. Isn't my grandfather one of
 
 A SLIGHT MISTAKE. 97 
 
 your servants, and arn't you going to live at 
 the hall; of course we shall meet again? 
 There now, you have promised." 
 
 The tone in which these words were 
 spoken was not such as to reassure a 
 doubting lover, and Tom Meredith got still 
 less of consolation out of what remained 
 behind. 
 
 " And now I must go. I wouldn't liave 
 my grandfather know I was here for worlds," 
 and she ajDpeared to the jealous ears of Tom 
 to be making an ill-sustained effort to get 
 away. He moved a step forward, wrought 
 to a pitch of desperation, when the flutter of 
 her light dress appeared at the opening by 
 the stile ; and as she turned for one moment 
 before coming out into the open path, she 
 said, " And above all, promise me too, that 
 Mr. Meredith shall never hear of this ;" 
 Saying which, she ran — without looking 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 98 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 round — straight through the wicket that led 
 to Nat Gosling's cottage, and disappeared. 
 
 And that was the abrupt termination to 
 the trainer's happiness for many a day. He 
 leant for a second or two against the stile, 
 while the perspiration stood in dvo])ii upon 
 his brow. He removed his hat to catch the 
 cool freshness of the coming night, and then 
 hastened down the narrow path with an un- 
 settled purpose, but bent upon confronting 
 Goodge, who, he beheved, had just com- 
 menced those overtures which would be the 
 ruin of Kate Eideout, as they were of his 
 own happiness.
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 THE MAN THRASHES THE MASTER. 
 
 The Captain, in the meantime, sauntered 
 slowly back, puffing a cigar, and pluming 
 himself upon the success of a villain}^ which 
 was as sudden as it was ruthless. 
 
 " Yes," thought he, " he may keep his 
 farm and his paddocks, but Kate Eideout 
 must pay for the diminished rental and my 
 inconvenience. Who'd have thought the 
 little minx would have grown up such a 
 beauty ? Julia Latimer, indeed ! I suppose 
 I shan't be sucli a bad catch now, though 
 
 7—2
 
 100 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 as lon^f fis Woodie holds on, old Castle 
 ]\Iullio'an wouldn't look at a commoner at 
 any price. Why, Kate's worth a dozen of 
 her, and there's no necessity to be tied for 
 life to some piece of buckram of country 
 propriety in petticoats, which must be the 
 alternative of the proprietor of Nobbley 
 Hall." 
 
 I don't say his thoughts took this form 
 of words, though they might have done for 
 want of better ; and they certainly would 
 have gone on in the same strain, but that a 
 heavy hand on his shoulder, put an unex- 
 pected stop to them. 
 
 " Hold, Captain Goodge," and at the 
 weight and the sound, that gentleman 
 turned suddenly round. They were just 
 outside of the spinnej^, on the side nearest 
 to the hall. The Captain's reply was at 
 least natural.
 
 THE MAN THIIASHES THE MASTER. 101 
 
 " What the d — 1, sir, clo you mean by this 
 impertinence ?" 
 
 " Captain Grindley Groodge," said the other 
 — his face livid with passion, and his words 
 coming rapidly, but not ver}' distinctlj', 
 while his voice trembled, and every vein in 
 his body was swelling with the suppression 
 of his emotions — " I know the difference 
 between our positions here, sir, that of land- 
 lord and tenant ; master and servant, if you 
 will, but I insist upon knowing by what 
 
 right you — you " he would have said 
 
 " come here poaching upon my manor," at 
 least, that's what he meant, but the phrase 
 did not at all convey the strength or 
 seriousness of his meaning. " You come 
 here to insult a defenceless woman, whose 
 position ought to be her greatest claim 
 to your protection. I insist upon 
 knowing your intentions towards the
 
 102 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 young lady witli whom you liave just 
 pai-ted." 
 
 It must be adDiitted that Tom had taken 
 up a rather untenable position, and the Cap- 
 tain's temper, which was of quite a different 
 kind, was not likely to forego any advantage 
 he might derive from that fact. 
 
 "My intentions towards my servant's 
 granddaughter? I don't know what you 
 mean, Mr. Meredith." 
 
 And here Captain Goodge laughed, as it 
 it were a joke, and showed his sharp, cruel- 
 looking white teeth. 
 
 "You know well enough what I mean, 
 sir, and you cannot well avoid giving me an 
 answer to my question." Tom Meredith 
 felt that his own interference was an absurd- 
 ity, after all, and it did something towards 
 abating his violence, though not his perse- 
 verance.
 
 THE MAN THRASHES THE MASTER. 103 
 
 '' If you're a gentleman, Captain Gooclge, 
 and a man of honour, you will tell me wliat 
 was your subject of conversation with Kate 
 Eideout." 
 
 " You seem to forget that I might be 
 betraying the lady's secrets, as well as my 
 
 OVVTl." 
 
 And here he laui^hed in the same irri- 
 tating manner. 
 
 " I believe that young lady has no secrets 
 from me," said Tom. 
 
 " The she's very little like the rest of her 
 sex, of which I've had considerable expe- 
 perience. You forget yourself strangely, sir. 
 I've known the young woman you are pleased 
 to call a lady, since she was almost a child, 
 and I see no reason why she should not 
 retain some pleasing recollections of former 
 days. T do, I can tell you. Perhaps they 
 are reciprocal."
 
 104 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 And a£?am lie lauii:hed that mockiDs: 
 laui^'h, whicli said so much more than even 
 liis language, equivocal as that maj' be re- 
 garded. 
 
 The fact is, that Tom had no right to 
 interfere, excepting that right which the 
 impulse of an honest man gave him ; at all 
 events, he had never announced any other 
 right, and it tied his hands, if not his tongue, 
 for the present. 
 
 "Captain Groodge," said he, "if you mean 
 aught but good by that girl, you are a vil- 
 lain. God knows whether my suspicions 
 are just : if they are not, I beg 3'our pardon ; 
 if they are, I'd make no more of tearing 
 your craven heart out, than I would of cut- 
 ting down a poisonous herb, or scotching a 
 viper before it could do harm." 
 
 " Mr. Meredith," said the other, and 
 nothing moved from his placid tone of
 
 THE MAN THRASHES THE MASTER. 105 
 
 speecli, so closely did he cling to the con- 
 ventional superiority by which he was sur- 
 rounded, "if you are about to become the 
 avenger of all the injured innocence of the 
 neighbourhood, and the defender of rustic 
 virtue in danger of temptation, you will have 
 plenty to employ your time and ycur talents. 
 As to Miss Eideout, she will neither thank 
 you for your interference, nor need your 
 protection. Stand out of my way, sir ! I 
 wish to pass." 
 
 But the last insinuations were scarcely to 
 be withstood by a man of Tom Meredith's 
 tornper, nor in his relationship to the girl 
 in question. 
 
 Instead of standing out of the way, he 
 placed himself in the middle of the path ; 
 already his hand was on the throat of his 
 adversary, and a struggle — which seemed to 
 have no definite object but the gratification
 
 106 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 of passion — was about to take place, when 
 lights appeared at the windows of the hall, 
 and footsteps of servants or laljourers be- 
 longing to the estate, reminded both how 
 near they were to help or interference, which- 
 ever it might be. 
 
 It was pretty certain which way such a 
 struggle must have terminated, for Grrindley 
 Gooclge, active and well-built a man as he 
 was, would have had no sort of chance in 
 the gripe of such a fine, powerful fellow as 
 Tom Meredith, whose pursuits alone gave 
 him a physical superiority over half-a-dozen 
 such victims to enervating indulgences as 
 the Captain and his associates. It is only 
 difficult to know, when Tom had knocked 
 him down, what he was to do witli the body 
 afterwards. As to the pleasure of merely 
 preventing his rival from going to the hall, 
 it was a very questionable one, and in
 
 THE MAN TlinASIIp:S THE MASTER. 107 
 
 another moment would possibly have pre- 
 sented itself to Tom's mind in that light. 
 The Captain's malice, however, saved him 
 all trouble of self-restraint, and showed him 
 far superior to the trainer in mental resources 
 for injury. 
 
 " Unhand me, sir, immediately. D — n ! 
 don't you see that the scandal will become 
 the talk of the whole village ? You can't 
 make the girl's character any better hj such 
 an assault as this. If you've no regard for 
 yourself, have some for her." Saying which, 
 Captain Goodge passed rapidly on, leaving 
 all his venom behind him, and Tom Mere- 
 dith planted, not knowing which most to 
 wonder at — the girl's falseness, tlie Captain's 
 coolness, or his own honest stupidity. 
 
 And so Grindley Goodge walked off; and, 
 as when some pertinacious cur, not, indeed, 
 utterly deficient in pluck, but rather of the
 
 108 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 snarling and passively offensive kind tban 
 of the ojDen and boldly hostile, having been 
 collared and shaken by a braver and truer 
 type of the English dog, takes a farewell 
 snap at the honest victor, and escapes, so 
 did the Captain, as he departed, leave the 
 most accursed sting in the honest mind of 
 Tom Meredith, caused him much to doubt 
 the polic}^ of liis conduct, and shook his 
 faith not only in the woman he loved, but 
 in the virtue of his own honesty. 
 
 If Tom Meredith had gone straight to 
 the cottage and sought an interview with 
 Kate or her grandfather, he might have 
 saved himself and her much trouble. In- 
 stead of doing so, he walked back slowly 
 and despondingl}' to his own house, and his 
 thoughts were less clieerful than he had 
 ever known them in liis life before. Tom 
 was a brave man, but he was an affectionate
 
 THE MAN THRASHES THE MASTER. 109 
 
 and impulsive one— better at doing than 
 bearing. It suited his physique and his 
 manner of life ; and when lie summed up 
 there was a nasty array of misery before 
 him. His farm and occupation were to go, 
 that Avas certain. It was liard to lose his 
 money, his time, his livelihood, but that 
 might all be reclaimed ; and, if all went well 
 with Mying Scud, he might be a compara- 
 tively rich man before the summer was over 
 yet. 
 
 But Kate's treachery there was no getting 
 over. They were as good as engaged, 
 though he never had spoken the words that 
 would have bound two honest people to- 
 gether for life. She was an idol Tom had 
 worshipped in his way, and now she was 
 fallen down and broken, and for whom — 
 Captain Grindley Goodge ! and Tom laughed 
 savagely as he thought of liim. A mean-
 
 110 TUE TLYIXG SCUD. 
 
 spirited gambler, of whom all men, even his 
 associates, spoke ill, and his confederates 
 said no good ; a white-livered cur, who had 
 not the moral courage to shield by a lie 
 even the woman he wished to wronsr, or had 
 wronged. By a lie. For it seemed plain 
 enough to tlie lover that his insinuations 
 were but too true. However, com^ what 
 might, there's an end of Tom's dream ; and 
 as he entered his cheerless home, he vowed 
 he'd follow his old master to the grave, and 
 then pack up his traps, live-stock and 
 all, and turn his back on the old place for 
 ever. 
 
 And all this happened because an old 
 fool like Nat Goslinij: could not hold his 
 
 & 
 
 tongue. 
 
 The facts of the case are these. When 
 Tom Meredith desired Nat Gosling to say 
 nothing to Kate about his misfortunes, and
 
 THE MAN TlIllASHES THE MASTER. Ill 
 
 Grindley Groodge's intention to turn liim 
 out of his farm, he did so with a design 
 which the old man was scarcely ahle to 
 appreciate. Tom thought that so sudden a 
 disappointment would make a painful im- 
 pression if communicated b}- any one but 
 himself, and he, therefore, made up his mind 
 to break gradually to Kate the disagreeable 
 intelligence himself, as he should find op]3or- 
 tunity. Of a participation in pleasure, or 
 sorrow, perhaps that of sorrow is the most 
 suggestive of strong affection ; and mutual 
 consolation and patience more binding upon 
 hearts than all the joys of life. 
 
 To say that Nat Gosling was by no means 
 impressed with the same necessity for 
 caution or consideration is nothing remark- 
 able ; but the old man might at least have 
 obeyed orders. He had, however, his own 
 view of the case ; and as he walked off to
 
 112 TKE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 his cottage, lie only thought of the possible 
 loss of a good master to himself, for Tom 
 stood in some such relation to him, and of a 
 good trainer to his pet colt. Not only had 
 Nat made up his mind that the Scud was to 
 win the Derby, but that Tom Meredith and 
 he were sure to share the glory and some 
 of the money. It must not, therefore, 
 surprise the reader that cursing had taken 
 the place of caution by the time he had 
 reached home. 
 
 " So, Kate," said the old man, as soon 
 as he saw her, " your friend. Captain 
 Grindley Goodge, has given Master Mere- 
 dith notice to quit the farm and give up the 
 paddocks.'* 
 
 '*/\nd who told you that?" said Kate, 
 rather taken aback. 
 
 "Why, Master Meredith hisself, to be 
 sure."
 
 THE MAN THRASHES THE MASTER. 113 
 
 "Did he?" 
 
 It wanted an hour to sunset yet; and, 
 as the girl looked out of the window to- 
 wards the Hall, a sudden resolution took 
 possession of her. She hastily tied on her 
 honnet and left the house. 
 
 The reader knows her errand. 
 
 VOL
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 ALWAYS A BAD ONE. 
 
 There seems plenty of room for reflection 
 on other things besides the uncertainty of 
 life in such a meeting as that which took 
 place at Nobbley Hall during the week of 
 John Sykes's funeral. John, though he 
 went by the name of old John Sykes, w^as 
 not really an old man ; somewhere between 
 sixty and seventy, of an active habit of 
 mind and body up to within a few days of 
 his death. He was only ill a week, I think, 
 altogether. His health had not been so good
 
 ALWAYS A BAD ONE. 1J5 
 
 of late years ; but as lie, occasionally, took a 
 ride to town and trotted home when lie had 
 had enough of it ; as he still went round 
 the paddocks every day, and sometimes saw 
 a trial or a gallop under Tom Meredith's 
 auspices, nobody thought much of his 
 change of health. The fact was that he 
 suffered somewhat in mind. He was a man 
 of peculiar feelings, something akin to what 
 a gentleman ought to be, and something 
 beyond what some of them are. He 
 was only John Sykes, and John Sykes w^as 
 nobod}^ ; but he was proud of the name in 
 his way ; rather, I should say, of his own 
 support of it. 
 
 From the earliest period of Grindley 
 Goodge's life John Sykes had one fixed in- 
 tention, and to it he not only adhered 
 steadily, as was naturally supposed, but he 
 made his sister, during her life, and the boy 
 
 8—2
 
 IIG THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 himself when older, a participator of it. 
 He had determined upon leaving his pro- 
 perty to his nephew, with the condition 
 attached to it, that he should change his 
 name to Sykes. Young Goodge had begun 
 life at the Hall as a handsome, reckless boy, 
 with no particular faults beyond those which 
 seem to belong to remarkable health and 
 spirits. He was noisy, idle, and somewhat 
 overbearing, but none had detected symp- 
 toms of greater vice. Prosperity, or the 
 expectation of it, acts differently upon diffe- 
 rent constitutions ; and certainly young 
 Mr. Grindley Goodge, when he returned 
 from Eton for the vacations at Nobbley 
 Hall, had been spoilt either by these expec- 
 tations, or by the peculiarity of the edu- 
 cation he was receiving. 
 
 Whenever John Sykes had any social 
 difficulty on hand, he was in the habit of
 
 ALWAYS A BAD ONE. 117 
 
 seeking one of two counsellors ; sometimes 
 both. Now, the proposed education of his 
 intended heir was a domestic question of 
 some importance ; and he, therefore, had 
 summoned to his assistance at divers times, 
 Thomas Meredith and Lawyer Quail. John 
 Sykes may be forgiven for having adopted 
 the popular fallacy that a public school 
 met all requirements, and cured all evils. 
 His friends, whatever prejudices existed 
 elsewhere, were not quite of the same 
 opinion. 
 
 " Tom," said the old man, " you were at 
 Eton once, for a short time. What's your 
 opinion of it for my nephew ? I suppose 
 it's the only thing to do for a fellow of 
 that sort. Everybody goes there." 
 
 "Well, sir, there are half-a-dozen dif- 
 ferent ways of training horses according 
 to the tempers, constitutions, legs, and
 
 118 THE PLYING SCUD. 
 
 feet; and I should tliink boys are very 
 like them." 
 
 That was Tom Meredith's opinion of 
 the universal panapea; his own career 
 having been cut short at that famous semi- 
 nary by his uncle's misfortunes. Lawyer 
 Quail entered more fully into the question, 
 as became a subtle mind. 
 
 " Everybody says I must send Grindley 
 to Eton, Quail." 
 
 " Why so ?" says the lawyer, who knew 
 that his Etonian clients were always borrow- 
 ing his money. 
 
 " Because it will make a gentleman of 
 liim," said the uncle. 
 
 " I hope it may," said the acute lawyer. 
 '' My own opinion is that it will confirm 
 whatever his previous propensities may be. 
 If the boy wishes to be a gentleman and a 
 scholar, he'll have every opportunity of be-
 
 ALWAYS A BAD ONE. 119 
 
 coming either or botli ; and, with your 
 property you can afFord luxuries. But if 
 he has the propensities of a blackguard, 
 there is no place in the world where they 
 will be so easily confirmed. There is as 
 good an opening for their display as for 
 the abilities of a rogue in my own pro- 
 fession.'' 
 
 But he went to Eton and India, notwith- 
 standing. 
 
 To say that Grindley Groodge at sixteen 
 or seventeen knew nothing, is scarcely true. 
 He was an accomplished gambler in a small 
 way ! understood cutty pipes, which he 
 smoked at the village public, surrounded by 
 an admiring crowd of village toadies ; knew 
 the odds at hazard; the winners of Oaks, 
 Derby, and St. Leger for several years past, 
 by which knowledge he increased his pocket- 
 money by sundry half-crown bets with the
 
 1:20 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 unwary, but self-sufficient young Yorksliire- 
 nicn, and made use of a vocabulary wliicli 
 would liave been considered gross in tlie 
 mouth of a Xewmarket stable-bo}^, and for 
 whicli lie bad been more tlian once kicked 
 out of his uncle's stables by Nat Gosling, 
 whose sense of respectability, if not of reli- 
 gion, was shocked by his puerile blackguard- 
 isms and importations of blasphemy. 
 
 John Sykes knew only enough of this 
 to make him ver}^ aiigiy '■ the more heinous 
 offences were supposed to be kept from his 
 knowledge, and the neighbourhood was 
 taught to regard the good-looking scape- 
 grace — for his worst enemies thought him 
 nothing more — as the heir of Nobbley 
 Hall. 
 
 His uncle, indeed — a man of great energy, 
 and believing that success in life belonged 
 especially to industry and honesty — was an-
 
 ALWAYS A BAD ONE. 121 
 
 noyed at liis idleness, which he could not 
 fail to perceive. He was far from dull, 
 though ignorant of many subjects ; and he 
 astonished some rather acute gentlemen at 
 his uncle's table, when about sixteen years 
 of age, by reducing to paper for their in- 
 formation the odds on three certain horses 
 against the field, and one of them especially, 
 by offering to lay them. His debts had 
 several times been paid, by those sort of in- 
 stalments which satisfy the creditor onl}^ 
 temporarily ; so that when the boy left 
 Eton, what with the lies he had already told 
 to diminish their amount, and the rascalities 
 of which he had been guilty to evade their 
 payment, even when the money had been 
 supplied, he was an accomplished swindler, 
 and in the hands of the Jews. 
 
 This boy had been a bad investment for 
 the old gentleman, who desired to hand
 
 122 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 down a name untarnished to his poste- 
 rity. 
 
 Then he went into the army, and in due 
 time he returned from India, having been 
 allowed to sell out, only because some dis- 
 graceful scenes of unfair gambling could not 
 be brought home so as to convict ; though 
 courts-martial are not remarkable for scru- 
 ples on that score. Since Grindley Groodge's 
 return his visits had been at first frequent 
 enough at Nobbley. As he became more 
 and more involved in transactions and so- 
 ciety reflecting no great credit on him, he 
 was a less frequent visitor. During the last 
 twelve months he had scarcely seen his 
 uncle at all, and his death was a remark- 
 able surprise to him, and, in his position, 
 no unpleasant termination to their inter- 
 course. 
 
 Who's to remember such a trifle as a debt
 
 ALWAYS A BAD ONE. 123 
 
 of g-ratitude for education, food, money — 
 gratifications of sense, and an allowance, 
 which, if not very large, was at least regu- 
 larly paid ? 
 
 There could be no doubt that with Grind- 
 ley Goodge's tastes the last article in this 
 budget was an absurdity. The allowance 
 was sufficient for existence, as he remarked, 
 but not for life ; and as once a broken-down 
 captain, a ruined gentleman, a spendthrift 
 exquisite, before committing suicide, went 
 on the road, so now the bankrupt of every 
 degree, to recruit exhausted finances, or to 
 supply deficiencies, before the consummation 
 of all follies, goes upon the turf. Grindley 
 Goodge had early taken to this way of life, 
 for it presented features of great interest 
 and advantage to him, independently of the 
 mere means of living. Was he not to be 
 the Squire of Nobbley some day ? — and was
 
 124 THE PLYING SCUD. 
 
 not liis name a little tarnished and his ante- 
 cedents somewhat queer? — and would he 
 not want, under a new name, a new career, 
 new friends, and higher aspirations ? — 
 and where was lie so easily to get them 
 as on Newmarket Heath or the Doncaster 
 Moor ? 
 
 He knew hundreds, not, perhaps, as had 
 as himself, hut something like it, who were 
 daily suborning touts, pulling horses, milk- 
 ing favourites, running false trials and 
 swearing they were true ones, on the best 
 
 terms with the Duke of A , the Marquis 
 
 of B , and Lord C , because the peer 
 
 who wants to gamble must be content to do 
 it in the company that suits his book. Who 
 turns the cold shoulder on a man who 
 can accommodate him with something above 
 the current odds when they're done in 
 thousands, if he is happy in the posses-
 
 ALAVAYS A BAD ONE. 125 
 
 sion of a clean face and iiTeproachable 
 boots ? 
 
 So I do not mean to say that Grindley 
 Groodge killed John Sykes, but lie made an 
 old man of him before his time. 
 
 When Kate ran home she met her grand- 
 father waiting to receive her in his usual 
 sitting-room. It was half parlour, half 
 kitchen, and was used by old Nat to take 
 his meals in ; keeping a better room apart 
 for Kate herself, when tea was over, where 
 she could be alone, if she pleased, or where 
 the old man and Tom Meredith, or any 
 other friend, could smoke a pipe and settle 
 the mysterious pretensions of a Derby colt 
 without interruption. 
 
 "Well, Kate," said he, taking off his 
 thick and dirty boots and di'ab gaiters, 
 and putting on a pair of clean high- 
 lows, above which he exJiiblted le^^rs that
 
 12G THE TLYING SCUD. 
 
 looked as if they belonged to a quondam 
 liglit-weiglit, " and what did he say to 
 you .-^ 
 
 " What do }'0u think he was likely to say 
 to me ?" said the girl in reply, drawing her- 
 self up, and showing her bright, fresh colour 
 and cheerful eyes by the light of the fire. 
 " What could he say to a pretty girl like 
 me, when I went all the way to the Hall to 
 ask him?" and her tone of voice had an 
 irresistible charm in it, which would have 
 made it difficult to say "no" to any re- 
 quest. 
 
 " He wouldn't a' said much good, lass, I 
 doubt — if he's anything like what he used 
 to be." 
 
 *' Wrong, again, grandpapa. To be sure, 
 I had a little difficulty to get him to 
 say ' Yes ' — but he did promise ; and 
 now Tom will be happy again, and he
 
 ALWAYS A BAD ONE. 127 
 
 won't know who made him so till I 
 choose to tell him." And Kate clapped 
 her hands with a sort of childish delight. 
 " It wouldn't do to tell him to-night, I 
 suppose." 
 
 " He don't always keep his promises ; 
 you'd better wait a bit. If he was so ready 
 to promise, he may bolt before he gets 
 round the course ; and then " 
 
 " I don't think the Captain's half so bad 
 as you think him." 
 
 " I don't think he's half so good as you 
 want to think him. He was always a bad 
 'un to train, Kate, and he's not likely to 
 take to straight running when anything 's 
 to be got by cutting it." 
 
 From which remark it is evident that 
 Nat had no great opinion of his new 
 master. 
 
 Then they sat down to tea ; and after tea
 
 12S THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 Kate took to her work and old Nat to his 
 pipe; and they both of them listened for 
 the knock at the door, or the opening of the 
 latch, which they expected, but which did 
 not come.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE TRAINER AT HOME. 
 
 Neither of tliem said much about the 
 absence of Master Meredith, as the old 
 groom was accustomed to call him ; but 
 in the midst of their conversation on in- 
 different subjects, their minds were certainly 
 occupied with the trainer's non-appearance. 
 At first old Nat thought he might have 
 been detained later than usual, looking over 
 his accounts — a business which Nat Gros- 
 ling regarded as requiring much time and 
 exercise of patience. Still he was not 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 130 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 usually so late; and nothing but innate 
 delicacy for Kate's feelings prevented an 
 explosion on the part of the old 
 man. 
 
 Kate held her peace and wondered. The 
 disappointment was sore to her, however; 
 for prudence was the very last of the virtues 
 she possessed, and in spite of her grand- 
 father's caution she certainly meant to have 
 given Tom Meredith a hint of the good 
 things in store for him. 
 
 " Why should he be made uncomfortable 
 an hour longer than it was necessary. 
 Captain Goodge had faithfully promised 
 that he should have the lease of the farm 
 and the paddocks ; and though he had 
 never said so, she knew very well that she 
 would be asked to share them. It would 
 be very hard to keep the secret from him, 
 after all."
 
 THE TRAINER AT HOME. 181 
 
 But ten o'clock came, and old Nat went 
 off to bed after liis supper ; and then slie 
 saw that lier resolution would not be taxed 
 that night. She almost cried, as she lay 
 down at last, and accused him of cruelty — a 
 fine moonlight night like this, too. What 
 was the reason of it ? 
 
 In the meantime, the object of her 
 speculations was at home, filling his own 
 mind with gloomy forebodings as to his 
 future, and miserable at the supposed 
 destruction of his hopes. 
 
 At one time he longed to start off and 
 accuse her of her fickleness, to warn her of 
 her folly, to learn how far she was guilty of 
 deceiving him from herself, if she had 
 honesty enough to tell him, and then to 
 take leave of her for ever. He should be 
 off in a day or two, and they'd soon forget 
 him. 
 
 9—2
 
 132 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 He had half made up his mind to this 
 course, and was about taking his hat down, 
 when a knock at the door came sharply and 
 unexpectedly upon him, and he heard a 
 man's voice asking for him in the passage. 
 Tom opened the door, and Mr. Quail 
 appeared, unburdening himself of his great- 
 coat. 
 
 " Come in, Mr. Quail,'* said he, for he 
 had a very good opinion of the lawyer for 
 one of his class ; " I can guess your business. 
 He hasn't let the grass grow." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; well, it's not difficult to guess, 
 for of course you know the funeral takes 
 place to-morrow ; and as I shall be pretty 
 busy in the morning, I thought I'd run in 
 this evening and smoke a cigar," which 
 he had been doing ever since his arrival, 
 "And how do the young 'uns go on, 
 Mr. Meredith ? That's a very nice Derby
 
 THE TRAINER AT HOME. 133 
 
 colt of yours. He's a good deal improved 
 since he won the Criterion." 
 
 Lawyer Quail was a hit of a judge. 
 
 '' I think he is, considering the time of 
 year. My opinion is that he'll improve 
 more. I don't tell everybody so." 
 
 "A nod's as good as a wink to a 
 bhnd horse, Mr. Meredith. I remember 
 the grand-dam — he comes of a staying 
 flimily." 
 
 " I'm o*lad to hear it. There are 
 
 b 
 
 very 
 
 few of them left." 
 
 " Yes, poor old man. John Sykes would 
 have been glad to have seen the Two 
 Thousand in his pocket, and then he'd have 
 looked after your interest in the Derby. 
 You've lost a good friend !" 
 
 " I have ; and they're scarce articles, as 
 well as the stayers." 
 
 " Don't say that, Meredith ; you're out
 
 134 THE FLYIXG SCUD. 
 
 of sorts, and I'm surprised at it to-night. 
 You're to see the last of your old friend 
 to-morrow. I came to tell you we start 
 punctually at 11.30. The luncheon is at 
 one, and we must read the will as soon 
 after as ma}^ be. It's not a long one ; but 
 he's remembered them aU." 
 
 Here Lawyer Quail gave a more pro- 
 longed puff than usual. 
 
 " I don't doubt it," said Tom, gloomily. 
 *' I shall be at the funeral, of course, but 
 you'll excuse me if I don't come down to 
 lunch." 
 
 " But you must come ; you can't absent 
 yourself without very curious remarks. 
 There, I can't say anything, but it's your 
 duty, Mr. Meredith. All the tenants are 
 invited. It was the old gentleman's special 
 request. You know he told you you'd be a 
 legatee, and — and — I say," here Quail
 
 THE TRAINER AT HOME. 135 
 
 buttoned up his pocket, and slapped his 
 thigh, as much as to say, it's time to hold 
 my tongue ; " but you must come." 
 
 " And I tell you that Captain Grindley 
 Goodge " 
 
 " D Captain Grindley Goodge ! He's 
 
 next of kin, that's true ; and he's chief 
 mourner, and so forth ; and let him sit at 
 
 the top of the table, and be d d to him. 
 
 I suppose he's been at you about the farm, 
 eh? He sent some of his infernal toadies 
 and confederates over to me about it, but 
 he didn't get much out of me. When he's 
 taken possession under his uncle's will, he 
 can do as he likes at Nobbley ; but I know 
 what's what, and they can't get on without 
 me, nor I without you to-morrow, so you'll 
 come down to lunch. And now give 
 me a glass of your good ale, for I'm 
 thirsty."
 
 136 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 Then Tom essayed in *vain to tell Mr. 
 Quail about his meeting with Grindley 
 Groodge, but seeing he could not do that with- 
 out compromising Kate, he fell back upon 
 the refusal of the lease. Upon which the 
 lawyer held forth for another hour, swearing 
 away at selfish landlords, careless tenants, 
 bad laws, and sudden deaths, till eleven 
 o'clock at night; by which time he had 
 convinced Tom Meredith that it was a 
 great duty to society to appear at the 
 head of the tenants to-morrow, and he 
 might "hear of something to his advan- 
 tage." So Mr. Quail, lighting one more 
 cigar, set out for a moonlight walk home, 
 much relieved in his mind that he had 
 gained his point. 
 
 If I were writing a three-volume novel 
 (and I never could understand why that 
 mvstical number should have been so
 
 THE TKAINER AT HOME. 137 
 
 generally apj^lied to light literature), there 
 is here a fine opportunity for digression 
 on various subjects connected with our 
 interest in this world after we have gone to 
 another. 
 
 On that certain morning appointed for 
 his funeral, old John Sykes must have 
 looked with some surprise, not to say dis- 
 gust, upon the proceedings of the gentle- 
 man who was about thus hastily to leap 
 into his seat. Instead of a house of mourn- 
 ing, except in the case of a faithful retainer 
 or two, Nobbley Hall was becoming more 
 and more cheerful, as the screwing-down 
 and carrying-out process, which had been 
 going on for the last two or three hours, 
 progressed. 
 
 "Let me congratulate you, Grindley,'* 
 said his friend Mr. Chouser, nearly severing 
 his head from his body with affectionate
 
 138 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 warmth, as lie took his seat at the break- 
 fast table, whose cold baked meats alone 
 would have made the late master's scalp 
 creep with trepidation. " At length the 
 auspicious day has arrived when the 
 Chinese proverb would tell you your spoke 
 on the wheel of fortune was uppermost. 
 Egad ! the last of the late tenant is just 
 gone down stairs, and Nobbley Hall is 
 tangible." 
 
 "Are you thinking about your seven 
 hundred?" said the master. "You may 
 congratulate yourself, Chouser, quite as 
 much as me." 
 
 "Nonsense," laughed the other, with 
 his moutli ful] of pate de foie f/ras, which 
 had been supplied for the chief mourner by 
 Fortnum and Mason. " I never doubted 
 about that. There'll be a clearance of 
 timber, I suppose ?"
 
 THE TRAINER AT HOME. 131) 
 
 "At the earliest opportunity. What^s 
 been done about the Scud ?" 
 
 "Nothing at all," said the Major. 
 " He's scratched, of course, so I never 
 looked. Easper is first favourite for the 
 Guineas, I see ; the Scud not mentioned, 
 — so it's all right. Only one bet about 
 the Derby — a thousand to ten against 
 Mosquito. Anyhow, we'd have made a 
 good thing of it if the old gentleman had 
 outraged Providence by living till it was 
 over. Mo.'s information among the touts 
 is first-rate." And then commenced 
 again the knocking and hammering so 
 terrible to some ears, so innocuous to 
 others. 
 
 " Hallo !" said the Captain, " what's that 
 noise ?" 
 
 "More screws wanted. Bedad," replied 
 Major Mulligan, "it reminds me of that
 
 140 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 stable of Woodbie's. It must be more like 
 a coffin than anything else." 
 
 " And your own like a charnel house, 
 Major Mulligan, from the number of dead 
 'uns to be found on the premises," said 
 the Jew moneylender, opening the door 
 at the moment, soon after which they 
 began to leave the room for their divers 
 occupations.
 
 CHAPTEE X, 
 
 THE OPENlVfi OF THK WILL. 
 
 "SoRiiov>' is dry." It is rather character- 
 istic of its emblems, whatever it may be of 
 itself. 
 
 There is a persevering sort of drought 
 which seems to attack your professional 
 mourner, and renders a great consumption 
 of strong ale and gin-and-water necessary 
 to his existence — at least to his continuance 
 in his normal state of being. 
 
 So it happened on the day that the late 
 John Sykes was laid in his grave, that the
 
 142 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 mutes and undertakers were entertained in 
 the servants' liall, while a jocuud tenantry 
 entertained eacli other below the salt, in the 
 old-fashioned dining-room of Nobbley Hall. 
 Above the salt sat the heir-at-law and his 
 friends, who managed to find their way to 
 the luncheon, with the clergyman of the 
 parish, the doctor, Mr. Quail, the lawyer, 
 and a distant relative or two of the late 
 proprietor. The lower end of the table was 
 occupied by the rest of the company, and 
 though Nat Gosling was there, and the 
 humblest of the tenantry, in accordance 
 with the last wishes and arrangements of 
 the deceased and his lawyer; one, at all 
 events, was conspicuous by his absence. 
 Tom Meredith had walked straight away 
 from the dust that had been consigned to 
 its dust — no one knew whither. 
 
 There was no lack of creature comforts,
 
 THE OPENING OF THE WILL. 143 
 
 and if Grrindley Goodge was anxious to 
 make a favourable impression, be bad cer- 
 tainly gone tbe rigbt way to do so. Tbe 
 rubicund noses and purple cbeeks of Jobn 
 Sykes's followers and bearers migbt bave 
 been— as w^e bave seen — tbe signs of bardly- 
 suppressed sorrow, but tbey were not en- 
 tirely unlike tbose wbicb strong ale and 
 potations of sberry and port are calculated 
 to j^roduce on tbe dura ilia messorum. In- 
 digestion and grief are not altogetber un- 
 like. 
 
 Tbeir conversation bad undoubted refe- 
 rence to tbe departed. 
 
 " So, of course. Master Maynard, t* colt 
 don't go for t' Guineas," said one. 
 
 '' Nomination be dead and void," replied 
 Jobn Maynard, sigbing, and swallowing 
 anotber bumper of port. 
 
 " Nor for t' Darby," remarked anotber.
 
 144 THE PLYING SCUD. 
 
 "I clidn't say that," says stout John 
 Maynard, in re^^ly. 
 
 " Why, nomination be dead too," says 
 the other. 
 
 " I see'd un at funeral. Where be Muster 
 Meredith, Nat?" 
 
 " 'Deed, mon, I dinna ken," said old Nat ; 
 *' but nominatioD for t' Derby stands good, 
 and Flying Scud's a starter, if he's all 
 right." 
 
 " And shall ye win, Nat ?" 
 
 The old fellow looked round, and re- 
 plied — 
 
 " Course we shall, if we comes in fust ; 
 na doubt about it." 
 
 And as there was a move at the top of 
 the table, the jolly mourners at the bottom 
 took up their hats, and bands, and scarves, 
 and bowed a handsome obeisance to the 
 rising sun.
 
 THE OPENING OF TIIK WILL. 145 
 
 Those whom it concerned adjourned to 
 the Hbrarj' — ii handsome room, with carved 
 bookcases, and a hirge table. The room 
 was surrounded with books, for although 
 John Sjkes did not read, he was obliged to 
 have something in it ; and he thought the 
 assumption of this taste was far honester 
 than a taste for ancestors. So there were 
 no Monmouth Street Knellers or Lelys, only 
 a handsome old setter or two, and some bob- 
 tailed race -horses and hunters, which had 
 been sold with the bookshelves and the 
 billiard table. 
 
 Major Mulligan must have been very fond 
 of the game to have tried to make a silk 
 purse out of such a sow's ear as that. 
 
 " You'll have a new table here, Goodge, 
 me bo}'," said he, after making only one 
 stroke, with an unpointed cue. That was 
 on his first arrival. 
 
 VOL. 1. 10
 
 146 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 " Certainly," said the Captain ; and lie 
 nearly added, and some one new to play on 
 it ; for lie was one of those niiserables that 
 have not even honesty enough to be true to 
 their brother thieves. 
 
 By the way, that proverb about thieves 
 and their honesty, seems to me of doubtful 
 truth. 
 
 Tom Meredith, while half repenting of 
 his design, or rather promise, made to Law- 
 yer Quail, to be present at the reading of 
 the will, was guilty of no disrespect to old 
 John Sykes, or what remained of him ; nor 
 did he believe Grindley Goodge to be much 
 worse than half the young gentlemen of 
 England. 
 
 He had had no experience of good so- 
 ciety, beyond such as was always represent- 
 ing it as very bad society, and all the con- 
 clusion he came to was, that the confederates
 
 THE OPENING OF THE WILL. 147 
 
 were a bad lot — roysterers, gamblers, un- 
 feeling and needy spendthrifts. That was 
 all, and as to the winding-up of his mal- 
 practices by making love to a defenceless 
 girl, much beneath him — as he thought — in 
 station — well ! really, it was nothing extra- 
 ordinary in Grindley Goodge, ex-captain of 
 some Indian regiment, and presumed heir to 
 a very handsome rent-roll. It was only in 
 accordance with his feelings, not his princi- 
 2)les, that he determined to be beholden to 
 him for nothing — not even a seat at his 
 dead uncle's funeral feast. So Tom walked 
 straight off, after the funeral, to his bache- 
 lor's apartment, which he had once peopled 
 with cheerful thoughts about Kate and him- 
 self, to think how miserable one mio-ht be 
 made by a vicious man and an inconstant 
 woman ; and wholly oblivious that there are 
 means by which we may heap up much 
 
 10—2
 
 148 TIJE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 sorrow for ourselves, without tlic assistance 
 of our fellow-creatures. 
 
 After a very melanclioly mid-day meal, 
 he sallied forth once more, to pay a fare- 
 well visit to l^obbley Hall, at the reading 
 of the will. 
 
 At the end of a long and handsome table 
 sat Mr. Quail, the family lawyer ; and as he 
 sat he looked suspiciously about the room, 
 and then at the door, as if he sought some- 
 thing that could not be found. In front of 
 him were his parchments, a modest-looking 
 packet, secured with red tape, and by his 
 side a tin box, with the name of " John 
 Sykes, the Nobbley estate," painted in white 
 letters upon the lid. 
 
 He was looking for something he could 
 not find, and an attentive audience awaited 
 the commencement of business. Captain 
 Goodge occupied an arm-chair at the other
 
 THE OPENING OF THE WILL. 149 
 
 end of the table, not entirely facing' the 
 huvyer, but with his side face to him, where 
 lie sat with his arm on the table, supporting- 
 Ins cheek. He showed less signs of impa- 
 tience at the delay, than might have been 
 expected. 
 
 The rest of the chairs were taken ujd by 
 the poor relations, and some friends and 
 servants of John Sykes. The confederates 
 liad been invited to be present at the coming 
 triumph of Grindley Goodge. The poor 
 relations were especially melancholy — pro- 
 bably at the recollection of their Yerj dis- 
 tant* connection with the testator (some 
 second or third cousins, or thereabouts), and 
 highly distasteful to Grindley Goodge, who 
 had sedulously cultivated his natural dis- 
 gust for respectable poverty. They were 
 sure, too, to rob the estate of some trifling 
 legacy, in which spoliation they would pro-
 
 loO THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 bably be helped by the old-fasbioned ser- 
 vants, with Nat Gosling at tlieir head. 
 Considering the number of annoyances, Cap- 
 tain Grindley Goodge did not look more un- 
 comfortable than might have been expected. 
 
 " Now, then, Mr. Quail, I presume we 
 ma}' begin, and get this part of the cere- 
 mony over— an eccentric notion of the old 
 man." 
 
 " Ah.! — yes, certainh^," said Quail, still 
 looking about him — now into the box, now 
 into the paper before him, but always witli 
 one eye on the door ; " yes, of course, Cap- 
 tain Goodge, as you say," speaking very 
 slowly , " it was an eccentric notion, this 
 publicity. However, Mr. Sykes quite made 
 it a condition that these good people should 
 be present ; and — ahem ' 
 
 " That will do, sir ; the time is getting 
 on — you had better f)roceed."
 
 THE OPENING or THE WILL. 151 
 
 And Mr. Quail, taking so suggestive a 
 hint, cleared bis throat and hesran. 
 
 " This is the last will and testament of 
 me, John Sykes, of Nobble}^ in the county 
 of York, gentleman ;" upon which followed 
 that peculiar legal phraseolog}^ which is 
 calculated to re -assure any of the survivors 
 who ma}- doubt the correctness or validity 
 of form, but which would only delay me 
 and my readers were I to attempt to copy 
 it. It is sufficient for our purpose to know 
 that John Sykes (the aforesaid John Sykes 
 takes up more room, and is, therefore, 
 always inserted at so much per letter) gave 
 to the County Infirmary a sufficient sum to 
 compromise any little peculiarities of early 
 thriftiness, to the repairs of the Minster 
 and to the Additional Curates' Fund suffi- 
 cient to hedge on the rather illegitimate 
 method by which he acquired his first great
 
 152 THE TLYING SCUD. 
 
 start in life, and Imndreds enough to 
 draw real tears of distress into the eyes of 
 his surviving relatives, who, a week ago, 
 expecting nothing, were now disgusted at 
 receiving only five hundred pounds a-piece. 
 There was an annuity of twenty pounds 
 each to a housekeeper, butler, gardener, and 
 second horseman ; and ''to my okl and valued 
 servant," continued the testator, " Xathaniel 
 Gosling, I will and bequeath the cottage 
 and garden in which he lives, and the sum 
 of one thousand pounds, free from legacy 
 duty ; and from and after the decease of the 
 said Nathaniel Gosling, the same to revert 
 
 unconditionally to Kate Eideout " At 
 
 this moment the door of the library opened 
 noiselessly, and Tom Meredith entered the 
 room. 
 
 At first he was unperceived. Notice had 
 centred on the fortunate groom, who mani-
 
 THE OPENING OF THE WILL. 153 
 
 festly was overcome by this surprising piece 
 of intelligence, whatever his expectations 
 might have been. Nat was a general favou- 
 rite, too, with his fellow-servants, and re- 
 ceived their whispered congratulatio]is ; and 
 there was not a soul in the house who 
 would not rejoice in the good fortune of 
 Kate E-ideout. As to Captain Goodge, he 
 was a little impatient at these hoavy de- 
 mands on what he considered his property, 
 but sat, biding his time, in the cheerful 
 prospect of immediate possession, and only 
 wonderinof how lono^ the list of old John 
 Sykes's legatees was likely to prove. 
 
 The first person to catch sight of Tom 
 Meredith, who had heard the last words, 
 and now stood in the entrance doorway, 
 Avas Quail himself. The lawyer looked 
 round, and was manifestly disconcerted to 
 see that Tom could find no seat near him.
 
 154 THE PLYING SCUD. 
 
 "Give Mr. Meredith a cliair," said lie, 
 addressing one of the servants present ; 
 " don't von see that he is standing: ?" 
 
 There Avere in an instant half-a-dozen at 
 command ; the lawj^er himself rising with a 
 deferential bow to Tom, and motioning to 
 one near himself. 
 
 " Let him stand, sir," said Captain 
 Groodge, rising too, whose attention was 
 onh' just drawn to the new arrival, and 
 whose sudden passion sent every drop of 
 blood to his heart, leaving his face cold and 
 pale, while his lips trembled with sup- 
 pressed emotion. " Let him stand, sir, and 
 allow me to do the honours of my own 
 house," and he threw himself into his chair, 
 turning his back on both law^'cr and trainer. 
 Quail said nothing. An acute observer 
 might have seen a rather satirical smile on 
 his closely compressed lips, wliicli augured
 
 THE OPENIN'G OF THE WILL. 155 
 
 a long bill as the most effective weapon to 
 the next of kin whenever the opportunity 
 offered. He had, however, a weapon nearer 
 at hand and sharper, so he continued to 
 read since the interruption with a slower 
 and more striking emphasis, which the dead 
 silence consequent on Grindley Groodge's 
 incivility made more evident.
 
 CHAPTEE XL 
 
 THE WILL CONCLUDED. 
 
 The words dropped out slowly and deli- 
 berately from the lawyer's mouth : " And, 
 lastly, I will, devise, and bequeath" — and 
 at the word lastly the Captain turned in his 
 chair towards the lawyer, and the colour 
 returned to his pale face — "to my friend 
 and tenant" — here he dwelt a moment — 
 '' Thomas Meredith, of the Home Farm, all 
 the real and personal estate" — Grindley 
 Goodge was on his legs, with his black eyes 
 gleaming like a demon, and the perspiration
 
 THE WILL CONCLrDED. 157 
 
 on liis cold and clamni}^ face — '' of whicli I 
 shall be possessed, or to wliicli I shall be 
 entitled, at the time of my decease, abso- 
 lutely ; and I appoint the said Thomas 
 Meredith, to whose famil}-^ I am indebted 
 for all I possess, sole executor of this my 
 will ". 
 
 But Quail was not allowed to proceed. 
 Captain Grindley Goodge, with three strides, 
 was at his side. The veins were swollen in 
 his hands and forehead ; his lips, blanched 
 with something more than fear — with the 
 utter ruin of all his hopes or expectations, 
 and contending with an aimless and impo- 
 tent violence — with difficulty formed words, 
 as he demanded — 
 
 " And is that all, sir ? Is there nothing 
 else?" 
 
 " Nothing," said the lawyer, smiling 
 blandly. It was his turn now.
 
 158 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 " Nothing ? You're sure ? Not a co- 
 dicil?" 
 
 He ought to have seen the devil in 
 Orindley Groodge's eyes ; but he saw no- 
 thinsr but his own reveno^e. 
 
 " What ! nothing left even to yourself, 
 sir ? You've surely not forgotten yourself?" 
 
 " Stay, Captain Groodge ; there is some- 
 thing more." 
 
 " I thought so," replied the Captain, 
 with a sneer, which almost seemed to cast 
 a shadow over his death-like features. 
 " Eead it, sir ; read it." 
 
 The law^^er proceeded to do so, with the 
 same placid smile as before : "And I revoke 
 all previous wills by me at any time hereto- 
 fore made ; in witness whereof " 
 
 But Grindley Goodge's hopes and pa- 
 tience were alike gone, and, with one 
 violent blow in the face, he felled Quail
 
 THE WILL CONCLUDED. 159 
 
 to tlie ground, saying, with horrible 
 oaths — 
 
 " D yon, you scoundrel ! this is your 
 
 doing, with your friend Tom Meredith 1 
 What does he pay you for your share in the 
 transaction ?" 
 
 And so far had he got, and in that strain 
 w\TS he proceeding, wdien the real master 
 of the house found it necessary to interfere. 
 
 "Silence, sir!" said Tom Meredith, com- 
 ing forward, even in the midst of his asto- 
 nishment. " You've committed an assault 
 for which jou will doubtless have to an- 
 swer. Whatever sympathy I might have 
 felt for your disappointment — and you de- 
 served some — is cancelled by your own con- 
 duct, and I regret that the first use I can 
 make of my title to your late uncle's pro- 
 perty is to order you to quit it. Go, sir." 
 
 " You'll be prepared, I suj^pose, to defend
 
 100 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 tlio robbeiy tliat, by some means or otber, 
 lias been committed — the advantage that 
 has been taken of age and infirmities, to 
 the prejudice of the real owner of the pro- 
 pert}' ?" said the Captain. 
 
 " That's riglit Groodge — it's a robbery. 
 Is it the old man's writing? Shouldn't 
 wonder if it was a forger}^" says Chouser, 
 exceedingly down in the mouth, but pulling 
 up his collars, and affecting to forget his 
 seven hundred in the losses of his friend. 
 
 "Oh, Moses!" exclaimed Mo. Davis; 
 " what villains these lawyers is, to be sure." 
 
 He, too, was more concerned for his thou- 
 sand than for Grindley Goodge. 
 
 " Faith, me bo}^ you're right. The 
 description's wrong. Your uncle, was he? 
 Bedad, he describes himself as ' gentleman' 
 at the head of the document. He's no 
 pretensions to the name, I'm told — a mere
 
 THE WILL CONCLUDED. 161 
 
 money-scraping, shilling-squeezing old vaga- 
 bond." 
 
 And Major Mulligan's left-handed com- 
 pliment to the nephew was continued with 
 much the same judgment ; while the lawyer 
 was placed in his chair, and promised Cap- 
 tain Goodge that he would hear more of 
 him at some future time. 
 
 " As it seems to me that Captain Groodge 
 and his friends have nothing more to do 
 here," said Tom, "at the risk of seeming 
 inhospitable, I am obliged to defer the 
 pleasure of their company to another time. 
 All particulars and opportunity will be 
 given them for proving their claim, if any 
 exists, by an application, through their 
 lawyer, to Mr. Quail." 
 
 Which speech only goes to show how 
 much too honest was Tom Meredith to 
 fight a battle in a court of law, and how 
 
 VOL. I. 11
 
 1G2 TUE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 little lie knew of Mr. Quail, if he imagined 
 that he would have given them, of either 
 one or the other, more than he was 
 obliged. 
 
 In this simple, but decisive manner, 
 Captain Goodge, Major Mulligan, Mr. 
 Chouser, and their Jew associate were dis- 
 missed from the home of the late John 
 Sykes. 
 
 When the first of these gentlemen was 
 turned loose on society by his uncle's will, 
 that philanthropic old gentleman had no 
 idea of the mischief he had done. He had 
 been subscribing to hospitals and curates' 
 aid societies, for the benefit of his fellow 
 creatures, with his left hand, while, ^Yii\l 
 his right, he had dealt them such a blow as 
 would be received by the liberation, among 
 patients and pastors, of a man - eating 
 tiger.
 
 THE WILL CONCLUDED. 163 
 
 It was quite certain that any good reso- 
 lutions wliicli might have been formed by 
 Grindley Goodge, with four thousand a 
 year, were only conditional on that great 
 incentive to cleanly living ; and when all 
 expectation of wealth was gone — nay, when 
 the very jaws of penury were opening to 
 receive him — he was not likely to forego, 
 or to modify, any of those means by which 
 skilful exf)erimentalists open the British 
 oyster. 
 
 From that day affairs were changed at 
 the hall. Tom Meredith entered upon a 
 r6le which he was well fitted to fill — not so 
 much, perhaps, by his education as by 
 certain inherent qualities, which reverses 
 and a manhood of industry had rather 
 served to strengthen than to confine or 
 disguise. 
 
 One thing was remarkable — that his 
 
 11—2
 
 1G4 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 spirits, before so good and full of animation, 
 were gone with, his accession to fortune. 
 He had become reserved, silent, less ap- 
 preciative of a country life, and careless of 
 the duties it involves. This was, indeed, 
 the reverse of what men expected at his 
 hands. The only thing that seemed to 
 interest him particularly was his stud. He 
 put his horses into the hands of an ex- 
 perienced servant, on whose honesty as well 
 as knowledge he thought he could rely, 
 and continued to superintend their prepara- 
 tion himself as jealousl}^ as when it was a 
 duty. As he said, he thought that Nat 
 Goshng, with himself, would be quite a 
 match for the machinations of the enemies 
 of Flying Scud, and would, perhaps, bring 
 some of those to grief who had been relying 
 on undeniable information. 
 
 As to the horse himself, the facts of the
 
 THE WILL CONCLUDED. 165 
 
 case were soon known. The death of John 
 Sykes compelled his retirement from the 
 list of candidates for the Guineas ; but as 
 the nomination for the Derby was that of 
 one Thomas Meredith, the horse stuck per- 
 sistently in the list of starter for the Blue 
 Eiband of the Turf. As the peppering 
 which ensued upon the presumption of the 
 trial was judiciously administered, and as 
 the confederates managed their business 
 remarkably well, they were enabled to lay 
 about fifty thousand to win about fiwe — a 
 matter of no importance to such professional 
 talent, which regarded the five thousand 
 as a certain bonus, and the horse, as far 
 as winning was concerned, as good as 
 dead. 
 
 Since the evening on which Tom Mere- 
 dith had overheard the equivocal expression 
 of regard and mutual understanding be-
 
 166 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 tween Kate Eideout and Grindley Goodge, 
 he had neither been to Nat's cottage, nor 
 seen, even by accident, the girl whom he 
 at one time certainly intended to make his 
 wife. 
 
 Men are moved very differently in such 
 matters ; so diversely, indeed, as to set at 
 defiance all rules of analysis of character. 
 An impulsive man, it seems to us, would 
 have gone at once to clear up the mystery ; 
 yet, impulsive men have sometimes great 
 delicacy, and a certain shyness, or reticence, 
 which acts as a counterpoise to their im- 
 pulses. That Tom was impulsive we have 
 seen plainly enough, and he jumped to a 
 conclusion which was, as far as Kate was 
 concerned, unjust; but he proved now to 
 be shy and reserved, and held his tongue 
 from that day. He might, under other 
 circumstances, have made a confidant of
 
 THE WILL CONCLUDED. 167 
 
 Nat Grosling, wlio would have lightened his 
 mind in no time ; but his accession to 
 wealth, and his old position, was a bar to 
 that confidence, and in his resumption of 
 it, he found himself surrounded by ac- 
 quaintances, but without a friend. Nat 
 Grosling had his own opinions on the sub- 
 ject, of course, and they were not unnatural 
 ones, according to his light. 
 
 Kate sat one evening, completely broken 
 down, behind the stronghold of reserve, 
 which was intended to hold out for ever ; 
 and, dropping her work into her lap, she 
 said, " Mr. Meredith hasn't quarrelled with 
 you ?" 
 
 Old Nat gave a start, looked at his 
 grand-daughter, and said, " No : why ?" 
 
 " He's not been here since the funeral ?" 
 replied the girl, interrogatively. 
 
 "He's a great man now, Kate; times
 
 108 THE PLYING SCUD. 
 
 is altered," and he puffed fortli a volume of 
 smoke, whicli relieved him of some of his 
 indignation. 
 
 " I think he might have looked in ; you 
 used to be so much tocrether." 
 
 " Aye, so we are now, girl. The young 
 squire's as kind as ever his old uncle used 
 to be ; and the colonel was a grand favourite 
 about here, surelie." 
 
 "He might have come to inquire after 
 me." And then Kate blushed at her own 
 temerity. It was but a poor blind to her 
 real anxiety. 
 
 " Aye, girl, but yoa see "—and the old 
 man stopped, for fear of huiiing the girl's 
 feeHngs— " he's had much to do, and to 
 think on." 
 
 " If you mean too much to remember old 
 friends, I think you're wrong." 
 
 "Well, maybe he's a bit proud. You
 
 THE WILL CONCLUDED. 1G1> 
 
 might be, lass. Folks never knows till they 
 be tried/' 
 
 "It's not like him/' said Kate, half 
 thinking aloud. 
 
 " No, it's not like him ; but ye canna 
 tell till ye try. He was the honestest, the 
 best, the kindest callant that ever lived ; 
 but when ye put 'em out o' work, after 
 hard food and hard galloping, and gie 
 'em the run of their teeth in a straw-yard, 
 they always fly somewhere, and sometimes 
 altogether." 
 
 For the impression rankled in the old 
 man's mind that Tom Meredith felt the 
 difference in their positions, and that, 
 although well inclined to continue his kind- 
 ness to Nat himself, he was unwilling to 
 run the risk of daily intercourse with his 
 grand-daughter. 
 
 Kate brooded silently over his desertion.
 
 170 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 She was willing enough to make every 
 excuse for her lover, but she could scarcely 
 help feeling how different would have been 
 her own conduct had fortune placed it in 
 her power to befriend him. She little sus- 
 pected that she was suffering now from her 
 heedless, but well-intentioned step to do 
 so.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE major's little GAME. 
 
 " Bed AD, it was a fine stroke, boys, anyhow, 
 and it'll be that that will win the game, if 
 I've any luck. But Lord Woodbie must 
 give points ; no man out can play the can- 
 non game like him." 
 
 The speaker was Major Mulligan, and the 
 language was addressed to Chouser, Grindley 
 Goodge, and young Fitzwalter, Lord de 
 Warrenne's eldest son. 
 
 "It's hard upon me, too, that ye '11 be 
 advising his lordship what to play for.
 
 172 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 To be sure lie knows better than you 
 can tell bim ; but anybow, we're playing 
 for a stake, and you're not backing eitber 
 of us." 
 
 Here tbe Major made two losing bazards, 
 and won tbe game. 
 
 " Tbat's a bundred off. I'll play you one 
 game more, Woodbie, and you sball give me 
 fifteen ; come, double or quits, it's only fifty 
 — ^but you're too good, ye know you are : 
 and I can't afford more." 
 
 And tbe Major gave a baulk. 
 
 " Come, Major," said Lord Woodbie, " I 
 can't give fifteen, but if you'll make it two 
 bundred up, and play for tbree bundred, I'll 
 give you twenty." 
 
 " Tbree bundred, is it ? I'll lose, and 
 wbere's tbe money to come from ? No, I'll 
 play for a bundred, and you must get Cbou- 
 ser or Goodge to put on tbe otber two."
 
 THE major's little GAME. 173 
 
 After long altercation they agreed to take 
 Woodbie's five to four, in hundreds, upon 
 which the Major begged to be let off his 
 stake. 
 
 "Ill play you for a pony, just to have an 
 interest in the game, but I know you can 
 beat me easily at twenty points, me lord, 
 and I can't afford it. If I lose, I'll go up- 
 stairs, I know, and spoil the supper party, 
 after being spoiled myself." 
 
 At the same time Major Mulligan gave a 
 sufficiently intelligent glance in the direc- 
 tion of his associates, who were with reluc- 
 tance, accommodating Fitz waiter, who wanted 
 to back his friend for a hundred, at three to 
 two. It was done, of course, and it was 
 not the only thing being done at the same 
 time in the room. 
 
 The game began (it was in a large room 
 at the back of the Major's apartments, well
 
 174 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 lighted, well ventilated, and free from intru- 
 sion) mucli in Lord Woodbie's favour. And 
 as that remarkably fast young noble smoked 
 a fine, full-flavoured regalia — without which, 
 he averred, he could not make a stroke — 
 and drank iced brandy and seltzer, without 
 which, he also averred, he could not smoke, 
 the game went a little in his adversary's 
 favour at first, that is — for a break or 
 two. 
 
 " Put out your cigar, Woodbie," said the 
 good-natured Major, "I'm sure ye can't 
 make a stroke in such an atmosphere as 
 this, or ye'll have Chouser and Grindley, 
 there, winning your money. I'll begin 
 to be sorry I didn't double the stake my- 
 self" 
 
 There was a kindly, patronising air in the 
 Major's address which was, doubtless, in- 
 tended to allay irritation, but unfortunately.
 
 THE major's little GAME. 175 
 
 provoked it. Lord Woodbie was very 
 young, very green, very fast, and wished to 
 be thought faster ; but that was not Major 
 MuUigan's fault. Honest Hubert MulK- 
 gan couldn't help that ; besides which, he 
 thought he played billiards just five points 
 better than most gentlemen in England ; and 
 Mulligan couldn't help that either. Per- 
 haps it might be true, he observed to him- 
 self, but then he'd forgotten Ireland. 
 
 Lord Woodbie was a little irritated. 
 
 " Double it, then !" said he, gulping 
 down a little more cold brandy and seltzer, 
 which, however, did not allay his lordship's 
 irritation. 
 
 " No, no ; I'm only joking," and here 
 Major Mulligan made a shocking bad stroke, 
 and let the young Christ Church man in, 
 who proceeded to score in a bold and toler- 
 ably skilful fashion, with an occasional fluke,
 
 17G THE PLYING SCUD. 
 
 and very mucli after the bold University 
 pattern. The fact is, for a young man he 
 WHS very fair. 
 
 Having caught the Major and given a 
 baulk, he desired to back himself for a little 
 more, and on more favourable terms for the 
 takers. After some weak remonstrances 
 and expostulations, he was allowed to do 
 so. 
 
 " Call the game, Chouser," said his lord- 
 ship after a time, during which he seemed 
 to have had tolerable success, and one rather 
 long break. " Call the game, that's a good 
 fellow." 
 
 Chouser could hardly have recognised 
 himself under the appellation, but he replied 
 to it, "A hundred and thirty — a hundred 
 and three." 
 
 " Who's a hundred and thirty ?" inquired 
 Lord Woodbie.
 
 THE major's little GAME. 177 
 
 *' You are, my lord." 
 
 Chouser bad not arrived at sufficient 
 familiarity to dispense with titular distinc- 
 tions, but by the easy process of book- 
 making, and laying what he had not got, 
 was reaching it. 
 
 " Then I'll lay another hundred even, 
 Goodge," said his little lordship. 
 
 " Not I. You're in luck, and Mulligan's 
 a re«:ular duffer. I'll take a hundred to 
 seventy-five," said the Captain. 
 
 " Done — put it down ;" and having swal- 
 lowed a mouthful of smoke which half 
 blinded, and wholly choked him, the little 
 noble missed his cue, and Major Mulligan 
 proceeded to score. 
 
 It was a great point with the Major, as 
 of course it is with all judicious swindlers, 
 — whether on the turf or at the billiard 
 table— not to frighten their prey. Judicious 
 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 178 THE TLYIXG SCUD. 
 
 losing is quite as essential as any other of 
 the tricks of the game. Flatter your adver- 
 sary while you beat him in the long run. 
 The greatest rascals are the greatest adepts 
 at this graceful manoeuvre, and the Major 
 was nulli sccundus in the delicacies of cheat- 
 ing. 
 
 Having got within ten points of his ad- 
 versary, he thought it desirable to play the 
 wrong game, for which stupidity he was 
 saluted with a shout of abuse from his 
 backers, Messrs. Chouser and Goodge, and 
 some favourable notice of Fitz waiter, as not 
 quite up to the mark, and an offer to go on 
 backing his friend Woodbie. There is 
 nothing so charming in the way of moral 
 felony, nothing so exquisitely satisfactory 
 to both parties, as clever legging at bil- 
 liards. 
 
 It was becoming absolutely necessary to
 
 TUE MAJORS LITTLE GAME. ] 79 
 
 play a very flattering game. At one mo- 
 ment the Major had almost determined upon 
 allowing the amiable youth to win. It 
 would be such a grand stroke, and really, 
 his colleagues were not half considerate to 
 him, occasionally, as they should be. It 
 was a great temptation. He might have a 
 private picking, which would well repay 
 him for his self-restraint, and he would so 
 like to sell those rascals, Chouser and 
 Groodge, who had got much more out of the 
 Cambridgeshire than they ever admitted to 
 him. 
 
 However, second thoughts about " a bird in 
 the hand," and " striking while the iron was 
 hot," proved more acceptable ; so he drew 
 gradually on, appearing to make a very hard 
 fight of it, and now and then — after a bet- 
 ter stroke than common — admitting the soft 
 impeachment of a "fluke." 
 
 12—2
 
 180 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 To do Woodbie justice, though not select 
 enough in his company, he was a perfect 
 gentleman, and when the game stood ninety 
 all, he blew forth a fresh puff of tobacco, 
 and prepared to play with as much sanfj 
 froid, as if he had one sovereign on it 
 instead of rather better than five hundred. 
 And he did play, and having made nothing 
 — but left the balls with a not very diffi- 
 cult cannon for Mulhgan — he looked, with 
 calm composure at his handiwork, remark- 
 ing— 
 
 " There's plenty of room to go round it, 
 Major, and then I shall go in and win." 
 
 As the Major felt that he had played his 
 fish quite long enough, and that everything 
 had been done that a proper amount of 
 flattery could suggest, and with very excel- 
 lent results, he took care not ''to go round 
 it ;" and leaving an easy hazard over the
 
 THE major's little GAME. 181 
 
 middle 230clvet off tlie red ball, wliich lie re- 
 peated three times consecutivel}^ laid down 
 liis cue, with the best perj^etrated sigh of 
 relief that had ever been heard. 
 
 " 'Gad, it w^as a near go," said his lord- 
 ship, '• I don't think I can give quite 
 twenty ; at least, it requires good form." 
 
 At the same time he took out his pocket- 
 book, and having made a careful memoran- 
 dum of his losses, proceeded to hand them 
 over in notes, across the table, to the impu- 
 dent sharpers who had pigeoned him. It 
 was all very Avell to speak of the confedera- 
 tion as the " quadruped ;" it was quite clear 
 that it wasn't "an ass." 
 
 Major Mulligan was a great rascal, but 
 he could be — as he was very early in life — 
 a polished gentleman. Notwithstanding the 
 roll of his hat, and the roll of his tongue, 
 there were times when his manner was as
 
 182 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 finislied as tliat of the best class of liis 
 countrymen — which is saying a great deal. 
 It was peculiarly flattering to young men, 
 which is usually the case when the sympa- 
 thies and occupations are alike. It was so 
 now, when he asked Lord Woodbie to finish 
 the evening in his rooms iip-stairs, which 
 Lord Woodbie — looking at his watch — 
 was about to decline on the score of 
 time. 
 
 " Miss Latimer will regret the loss of 
 such an opportunity of extending her small 
 hospitalities to your lordship." 
 
 " Miss Latimer !'' repeated his lordship, 
 with rather less of good breeding than his 
 host. But he was evidently surprised into 
 the expression. 
 
 "My niece, Lord Woodbie, who does me 
 tlie honour of keeping house for me, as far 
 as a bachelor's establishment admits of it."
 
 THE major's little GAME. 183 
 
 And as he opened the door of the billiard 
 room, Lord Woodbie passed out before 
 him. 
 
 The wave of the hand, and the compre- 
 hensive bow with which — five minutes later 
 — -he presented his noble pigeon to the 
 young lady, was worthy the best days of 
 the late court of Pumpernickel, or of Bath 
 under the influence of Beau Nash. 
 
 " Lord Woodbie — me niece, Miss Lati- 
 mer." 
 
 Julia Latimer and Lord Woodbie stared 
 with some surprise, and then shook hands. 
 
 " We are not old, but I hope I may say 
 intimate acquaintances, Major Mulligan," 
 said the young man, blushing slightly, 
 which was scarcely perceptible, however, by 
 the light of the lamp or chandelier. 
 
 Mulligan knew it well enough, but the 
 needless display of knowledge is not cha-
 
 184 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 racteristic of good breeding or high society ; 
 so he had, as we see, kept that knowledge 
 to himself. 
 
 " It will be a great honour that you 
 should give us the opportunity of improving 
 that acquaintance." 
 
 Julia Latimer herself walked towards the 
 table without a w^ord, looking steadily down 
 upon a tea equipage which was standing on 
 IL, and offered Lord Woodbie a late cup of 
 tea, which he took. »Tulia was blushing for 
 her uncle, who she felt instinctively, was 
 acting a lie. 
 
 Somehow or other, I think, if there had 
 been a crooked and a straight path to the 
 same place, the Major would have preferred 
 the former. Practically he believed two 
 sides of a triangle to be shorter than the 
 third. 
 
 There's an English nobleman or two who
 
 THE major's little GAME. 185 
 
 could teU you a tale about billiards in early 
 life, which would make you think twice 
 before you took to '' knocking the balls 
 about " at a public table in a private room, 
 especially if you chance to be what is called 
 " sweet upon yourself."
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 WHAT FASHION EXPECTS OF US. 
 
 We have not seen mucli of Julia Latimer 
 yet except through the panel of a door. 
 Let us look at her face to face : it is 
 worth the trouble. No two women could 
 be more different than she and Kate Ride- 
 out. The latter fair, light of heart and 
 limb, not fitted for great hopes, nor to lead 
 where doubt or danger were before her ; 
 nor to strengthen weakness of purpose nor 
 guide and govern indecision ; she was a 
 tender and loving plant, w^hose strength
 
 WHAT FASHION EXPECTS OF US. 187 
 
 lay in her gentleness and love. Julia was 
 more than this. She was dark and rich in 
 colour, with large hazel eyes that owed part 
 of their power to the lids that fringed them. 
 There was no deficiency of tenderness or 
 trust, but an honest self-reliance in them 
 which might stand the owner in good stead 
 at need. Her features were straight and 
 handsome as those of a Grrecian statue, but 
 not cold ; such, indeed, as she might have 
 been had Prometheus breathed into her the 
 fire of heaven. Her mouth, which closed 
 calmly enough on ordinary occasions over 
 feelings which her words might have be- 
 trayed when scorn (and she was made to 
 feel it sometimes) curled her lip, was ex- 
 pressive enough of warmth for the most 
 genial critic. 
 
 If Julia Latimer was not so likely, or so 
 lightly, to be loved, she was a woman to be
 
 1S8 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 worsliipped. She would have stood by her 
 lover when all else had deserted him ; she 
 would have carried him with her through 
 every danger ; she would have shielded him 
 from his own weakness, have nerved him 
 with fresh strength for every encounter ; 
 and if ihej could not have fallen or risen 
 together, would have sacrificed herself wil- 
 lingly, and all her happiness, for him. 
 
 And this was the woman who was com- 
 pelled to witness the subterfuges of a gam- 
 bler's life, at an age when other women are 
 not much more than out of the school- 
 room. Her days seemed to pass between 
 ill-disguised reticence, and openly-expressed 
 shame. Few women in England looked 
 more like a lady ; none in her position 
 could have felt more like one. But it is 
 nothing extraordinary that she was as un- 
 like the conventional woman of Lord Wood-
 
 WHAT FASHION EXPECTS OF US. 189 
 
 bie's imagination as Joan of Arc was unlike 
 a doll in a clog-cart. I don't mean to say 
 that there are not Lady Marys and Lady 
 Harriets as good, as strong, and as loveable, 
 as any beggar's maid in the kingdom. Many 
 much more so. But a Julia Latimer was 
 not the picture which the Lord Woodbies 
 are taught to contemplate as their future 
 ladies. Excellence is like a personal beauty. 
 Yery high cultivation is apt to disguise it, 
 just as a course of callisthenics or crinoline 
 may divert or conceal the loveliest forma- 
 tion. As I love a highly-bred horse, and 
 expect more from him, so I regard a highl}'- 
 bred woman as capable of more than those 
 less highly favoured. But the manecje may 
 do too much for both, and disappoint the 
 rider, when he sails out of the convention- 
 alities of the school. 
 
 Lord Woodbie was astonished. Here
 
 190 THE TLYIXG SCUD. 
 
 was a woniau, not liis equal, as he would be 
 taught to believe, who was neither a pupil 
 of D'Egville, nor Maras, nor Halle ; who 
 didn't talk about the opera, or the queen's 
 ball, or even the drawing-room ; who lived 
 with a gentlemanly old gambler in a quiet 
 street, and whose person owed little to the 
 aid of Emanuel or Maradan Carson for its 
 loveliness ; whose grace, if it were natural, 
 ought to have belonged to a duchess, 
 and whose intellect was — well ! to tell 
 the truth, rather beyond his lordship's 
 depth. 
 
 So he fell in love with her at once. Not 
 like a bo}^ — and he was not much more — 
 but with the ardour of a strong will ; not 
 like a languid swell — nor was he very 
 much more than that — whose inane life had 
 been passed at Eton and Oxford in gam- 
 bling and dissipation, in aping vices which
 
 WHAT FASniOX EXPECTS OE US. 191 
 
 he detested, and in committing follies which 
 he despised. 
 
 How could he help himself, and how 
 could he have passed his time otherwise? 
 Where had he ever seen samples of the old 
 philosophers of the academies, who said all 
 happiness consisted in pleasure — but that 
 pleasure was virtue ! Old Spatchcock, his 
 uncle ! who knew the name of every dish 
 that Apicius might have coveted, and who 
 could congratulate himself on his death-bed 
 on having denied himself nothing in this 
 world. The Duke of Cadwallo, his other 
 uncle, to whom he was heir, a good man, 
 forsooth ! as proud as Lucifer, and as vio- 
 lent as a chained lunatic. A good hus- 
 band, father, landlord, and sportsman, over 
 head and ears in debt, hunting six days a- 
 week, and visiting the kennels after church 
 on the seventh ; keeping a string of race-
 
 19.2 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 horses at Newmarket, betting and gambling 
 all through the summer, and taking the 
 odds on Sunday afternoon at Chantilly or 
 Paris, while the governess at home was 
 being scolded by the Duchess for reading 
 "Lady Audley's Secret" instead of taking 
 the Ladies Mary and Cecilia to church in 
 the evening. Or was he to learn wisdom 
 from his cousin Saunterre, who, with sixty 
 thousand a-year, never had a horse, never 
 played a card, or threw a main, but was 
 half ruined by the opera-houses he had sup- 
 ported, and the ladies connected with them ; 
 who, and whose orgies at Saunterre Castle 
 were the talk, not to say glory, of all the 
 wickedest of the aristocracy. Or from that 
 intolerable ass Lord Pinchbeck, w^ho was 
 clever enough to have invented a new 
 brougham ; and whose outside, from head 
 to foot, had engrossed so much of his at-
 
 WHAT FASHION EXPECTS OF US. 193 
 
 tention as to have left neitlier brains nor 
 heart within. 
 
 When Lord Woodbie left Eton these 
 were a few of the notable examples that 
 surrounded his paternal, or, rather, maternal 
 hearth (for his father had been killed in a 
 steeple- chase a few years before.) Was he 
 likely to seize upon the abstruse virtues of 
 these people which lie beneath the surface, 
 or to adopt for imitation and reference those 
 glaring characteristics of fashion which 
 come to the top? Who talked of Cad- 
 wallo's domesticity, who did not talk of his 
 extravagance and gambling? Who talked 
 of Spatchcock's refinement, who did not 
 talk of his gluttony ? Who ever heard of 
 Pinchbeck's patriotism, who had not heard 
 of his under waistcoats and hats? What 
 was it in the world's eye that Saunterre was 
 a man of exquisite taste and learning, to 
 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 194 THE -FLYING SCUD. 
 
 the far-famed reputation lie had acquired in 
 the French coulisses? So Woodbie, who 
 liad great natural parts, great courage, great 
 spirit, great liberality, and unbounded be- 
 lief in the honour of his species, who, in 
 fact, was a perfect English gentleman at 
 heart, had adopted all the characteristics of 
 all those whom an inconsiderate world had 
 endorsed with the name. Unfortunately, 
 he had an affectation, too. He was, as 
 Grindley Goodge had often told him, " the 
 fastest young 'un out." 
 
 A real talent for pace is rather an un- 
 common thing, and no man likes to be de- 
 nied his title to genius. Now Woodbie 
 really had a turn that way, and was proud 
 of hearing it acknowledged. He was just 
 one of those men who might get over it if 
 he fell into good hands, which at present 
 was doubtful. He did so much of it with-
 
 WHAT FASHION EXPECTS OE US. 195 
 
 out liking it. His very cigars made him feel 
 uncomfortable ; but then Hudson and Carlin 
 supplied him with whole hundredweights, 
 and he plunged as far as the Poultry itself 
 to ransack Groode's stores for the very 
 largest and best Havannahs. He sat up all 
 night, but he yawned most unprofession- 
 ally over the business. He scarcely knew 
 one card from another, but played like a 
 line young English gentleman, to the de- 
 triment of his purse, and the disgust of his 
 partner. He had horses he never rode, a 
 yacht he never sailed, moors he never shot, 
 and half-a-dozen boxes he never set foot in ; 
 and he backed bills, and raised money, and 
 gladdened the hearts of the Jews to an ex- 
 tent that had never been heard of. He 
 never said "no" to himself, and as yet 
 he had found nobody to say "no" to 
 him. 
 
 13—2
 
 190 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 We have said that it was remarkable that 
 this young gentleman should have fallen 
 honestly in love with anything but himself; 
 but more so with a girl like Julia Latimer, 
 who had certainly but little sympathy with 
 his apparent tastes and real occupations. 
 But it is still more remarkable that such a 
 passion should have been reciprocal. It is 
 difficult to conceive that the lady should 
 have been attracted by anything like Lord 
 Woodbie as he has been at present repre- 
 sented to the reader. 
 
 However, there was the fact. Either that 
 penetration, for which women are so justly 
 noted, perceived something beneath the sur- 
 face more worthy of respect and affection ; 
 or that blind and undistinguishing impulse 
 known as love, and which lavishes itself as 
 often upon the colour of the hair or eyes, 
 upon the shape of a hand or foot, as upon
 
 WHAT FASHION EXPECTS OF US. 197 
 
 lieart or brain, had. deprived Julia Latimer 
 of those high quahties of discernment which 
 she really possessed, and drove her, as the 
 furies in the Orestean triology, upon her 
 fate. Let us hope the former of these two. 
 To hint that a coronet and twenty-seven 
 thousand a-year had anything to do with it 
 would be a gross libel upon women in 
 general, and on Julia Latimer in parti- 
 cular. 
 
 Having admitted my inability to account 
 for the first principles of this singular at- 
 tachment, there is still no difficulty in ex- 
 plaining its rise. Everyone goes salmon 
 fishing somewhere. It's the fashion to rave 
 about it. Norway used to be the right 
 thing to do, till the country was overrun 
 with appetites, and half the English were 
 starved. Jones always thinks that because 
 Smith had killed three hundred pounds*
 
 198 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 weight of salmon on the Glommon or the 
 Tana, he is sure to do the same ; so he 
 forthwith arms himself with all sorts of im- 
 plements of chase and war, among them 
 with a Eunic dictionary and a Scandinavian 
 vocabularj'. At the end of a month he 
 comes back, half-starved and very hairy, 
 cured of Norway but not of fishing. Eo- 
 binson had been there before him, and 
 whipped every mile of stream in the countr3\ 
 I need hardly say that Lord AYoodbie 
 pretended to be bitten with the salmon 
 mania ; and, having some property in that 
 well-favoured land, Ireland, out at nurse, as 
 usual, he gave up the Scotch moors, ordered 
 his keeper to supply the family from one 
 hill, sent down some friends to the others, 
 and took his seat in a carriage to Holyhead, 
 determined upon doing the patriotic land- 
 lord and the salmon together.
 
 WHAT FASHION EXPECTS OF US. 199 
 
 "What's become of Mulligan, Tread- 
 year?" said young Lord Tippletoddy, to 
 Mm of the Blues, one afternoon, sailing up 
 Bond Street, about the time that Woodbie 
 was thinking of salmon instead of grouse. 
 " Have you seen him lately ?" 
 
 " Yes — very. He won a hundred of me 
 this morning at the club ; never allowed me 
 or Prendergast to have anything over a nine 
 in our hands." 
 
 " And where's his niece, Miss Latimer ?" 
 
 " She's gone to Ireland. I tell you what, 
 Tippletoddy, my boy, it's a d — d lucky 
 thing for you that she had no chaperone 
 but that fat old woman in a turban to go 
 about with, or you'd have been nailed. I 
 never saw a fellow so spoony in my life." 
 
 " Well ! but a fellow couldn't marry a 
 woman without antecedents and that sort 
 of thing, you know. She's nobody."
 
 200 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 " I wouldn't advise you to let the Major 
 liear you say that. He's descended from 
 M*Murrough, King of Leinster, who ran 
 away with O'Euark's wife in Henry II.'s 
 reign. Nobody ! by gad ! you'd be riddled 
 by the clan."
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 THE NEW SQUIRE OF NOBBLEY. 
 
 "Julia, my dear," said old Lady Mac 
 Stickler, a relation of Julia's deceased 
 father, " IVe some news for you." Julia 
 was staying with the old lady in the Tan- 
 tudlem Hills, not far from the Woodbie 
 property. " There's my Lord Woodbie 
 arrived at Tantudlem, and as there's not a 
 soul to speak to within thirty miles of the 
 place but ourselves, we have asked him to 
 make this his head quarters." 
 
 " I'm delighted to hear it," said Julia,
 
 202 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 who found an Irish mountain even more 
 stupid than the back of Langham-place, in 
 the month of August, but who was obliged 
 to go somewhere ^vhile her uncle went to 
 Spa, Homburg, AViesbaden, and Baden 
 Baden. 
 
 So, within a few days of the time men- 
 tioned, he was installed at Tantudlem, and 
 appeared so well pleased A\dth his quarters, 
 that he sent for his groom and the horses 
 he had with him, and turned his salmon 
 rod into a riding whip, and took to sketch- 
 ing the scenery with the ladies. That's 
 how and where Lord Woodbie and Julia 
 Latimer had met before, and where he and 
 she seem to have discovered some hidden 
 virtues in each other, which it will take 
 our readers yet a few chapters more to 
 appreciate. 
 
 While we have been describing these two
 
 THE NEW SQUIKE OF NOBBLEY. 203 
 
 persons, more or less, and getting up an 
 interest in comparative virtue, which more 
 easily centres in vice and its exponents ; and 
 while Lord Woodbic is renewing an ac- 
 quaintance, begun under such favourable 
 auspices for love-making — Grrindley Goodge 
 and Chouser have been in the billiard room, 
 knocking about the balls and their friends 
 alternately. 
 
 "Chouser, we must have that fellow 
 Woodbie with us." 
 
 This being a supreme flight of auda- 
 cious villany, bej^ond Chouser, he answered 
 despondingly enough. " Must we ? And 
 wh}^ ?" 
 
 "He parts so well — so freely, that it's 
 quite a pleasure to bleed him. I*m sure he 
 feels it an accommodation to get rid of some 
 of his money. Only he won't go on for 
 ever. The supplies will come to an end."
 
 204 TKE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 " Well, but there can't be much advantage 
 in letting him in " 
 
 " We have let him in," said the other, 
 cutting short Mr. Chouser's unfinished re- 
 monstrance. " I'll tell you what ; we must 
 tell him about the Scud. He won't be 
 frightened about that. There's many a 
 fellow thinks nothing of robbing his friends 
 about a horse, that would rather cut his 
 hands off than cheat at cards, even if he 
 wasn't to be found out. We're nearly 
 blown on the turf, Chouser, that's the fact. 
 The fellows are all so d — d suspicious, if 
 you or I oj^en our mouths, that we can't 
 half rig the market." 
 
 "Well, what then?" said Mr. Chouser, 
 withholding his cue. 
 
 " Why, we'll get Woodbie to do it for 
 us. He won't stand in with us, but he'll 
 do it for himself and let us stand in with
 
 THE NE^V SQUlllE OF NOBBLE Y. 205 
 
 liim. He's devilish proud, but he's proud 
 of being fast, and he'll be verj^ much 
 flattered at having the first information." 
 
 " But the Scud will be knocked out, and 
 we don't want that." 
 
 " Not if he does it. The ring think him 
 such a fool, that they don't know he's any 
 taste for being a blackguard. They'll 
 only say it's a cock-and-a-bull story of 
 his friend Cadwallo, who wants to back the 
 horse." 
 
 So Grindley Groodge determined upon 
 having a common interest wdth Lord 
 Woodbie, which was a bold stroke on his 
 part. 
 
 " I'll tell you something more, Chouser, 
 if you'll listen to me. Funds are low, and 
 want replenishing ; and if I had any doubt 
 of the trial, I'd poison the horse rather than 
 he should win."
 
 206 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 Chouse r turned cold at the vehemence 
 of his friend. 
 
 " Win," said he, " No ; he can't win, 
 can he? Wh}-, we've laid heaven knows 
 what against him, and the right party 
 haven't backed him yet. We shall know 
 when they do." 
 
 " Don't be alarmed ; we shall know 
 everything. I've a friend in the stable, 
 Chouser ; and as you're pretty deep against 
 the Scud, you may as well know all. It 
 Avon't take long telling. What do you 
 think of Nat Gosling himself. He hates 
 Tom Meredith almost as much as I do. 
 He's thrown over Kate Eideout, and the 
 old man won't forget it. Don't you think 
 Kate would look well at the top of a table. 
 We want a decoy, Chouser, and we must 
 have one. Wouldn't you marry the girl 
 yourself ?"
 
 THE NEW SQUIRE OF NOBBLE Y. 207 
 
 " Marry !" said Chouser, aghast at the 
 proposition. "I don't think I could, 
 Grrindley ; not even to oblige you." 
 
 " Don't be alarmed ; you won't have the 
 chance. If there's no other help for it, 
 I'll marry her myself. I think that would 
 buy Nat Grosling, and then Mr. Meredith 
 may look out for himself on the twenty- 
 ninth of May." 
 
 While Grrindley Goodge matures his plans 
 for making Kate Eideout the mistress of 
 his establishment, under one form or an- 
 other, and the Flying Scud safe for the 
 Derby, by his influence with Nat Grosling, 
 or by one of the various means of robbery 
 so prolific in his time of life, we must 
 return to the new master of Nobbley Hall. 
 That venerable pile, and sporting neighbour- 
 hood, was once more happy in possession of 
 t' squoire, a thing they had not had since
 
 20S THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 the break up of the Colonel's establisliment. 
 To tell truth, Tom Meredith had acquired 
 some advantage by liis servitude ; for, had 
 his uncle been able to carry out his inten- 
 tions with regard to the Hall in Tom's 
 favour, he could but have transferred to him 
 an empty name and an empty house, saddled 
 with every possible incumbrance in the 
 shape of mortgages and debts. 
 
 The fortune left him by John Sykes was 
 ample for all his wants, though not very 
 large, and few men could liave looked for- 
 ward to a more prosperous or useful posi- 
 tion, as a country gentleman, than he. But 
 Tom was not satisfied. 
 
 Since the evening before the funeral, he 
 had never ceased to think of the unwortlii- 
 ness, as he believed, which separated him 
 from Kate ; and, in proportion as he felt 
 his isolation, did he become more unhappy.
 
 THE NEW SQUIRE OF NOBBLEY. 209 
 
 At tlie very time wlien lie could have 
 offered her a home, of which any womiin 
 might have been reasonably proud, he was 
 debarred from doing so by an unconquerable 
 obstacle. 
 
 Tom was truly unhappy. He went 
 about his business mechanically ; and while 
 his eyes were with Lawyer Quail or his 
 steward, his heart was down at old Nat's 
 cottage, whither his body felt a strong 
 inclination to follow it. However, it did 
 not do so, being under subjection to a still 
 stronger will ; and it is not to be wondered 
 at that a man of Meredith's age and tem- 
 perament began to seek solace in absence 
 from home. 
 
 Meredith fougLt against his wish to 
 leave Nobbley for many reasons. He was 
 very anxious to do something for the tenants 
 on his estate, who had had a hard time of it 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 210 THE TLYING SCUD. 
 
 under John Sykes. There were barns to 
 be built, and repairs to be done to the 
 fences ; new gates to be made, and timber 
 to be valued; acquaintances to be made 
 with the neighbouring squirearchy and 
 clergy, who held out the hand of fellowship 
 to a man who bore a name well known to 
 all of them. 
 
 But still he wasn't up to the mark. He 
 was sorely disabled. The blow came at 
 such a time. He tried shooting, at homo 
 and with his friends. He hunted pretty 
 regularly ; but he was a big man, and not 
 able to get together a stud towards the end 
 of the season, and at a moment's notice ; 
 besides which, he remembered Kate so often 
 when he had charge of lier — how he gave 
 her a lead here, and sent her round by a 
 gate there, and how often he had taken her 
 safely home to her cottage through the raw
 
 THE NEW SQL'IHE OF NOBBLEY. 211 
 
 atmosphere of a November afternoon. Of 
 course slie wasn't there ; for she'd nothing 
 to ride. 
 
 He tried a visit or two ; but he was 
 awkwardly situated. He was not yet 
 established as a county -man ; he had to pay 
 his footing by good manners, or liberality, 
 or good looks, or public utility, which was 
 slow work ; and his position and tastes had 
 never allowed him to associate with his 
 former fellows, and now less than ever. 
 He thought of London, but had not 3xt 
 screwed his courage to the sticking - 
 place. 
 
 Meanwhile, under the care of the new 
 trainer, or stud groom, Joshua Masterman, 
 and Nat Grosling, the Mying Scud continued 
 to improve. The horse, like most of his 
 colour, was a good doer, and required plenty 
 of preparation ; but as his legs and feet 
 
 14—2
 
 212 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 were like iron, and his constitution as sound 
 and hard as his legs, and feet, the galloping 
 did not hurt him. 
 
 The season, too, was inclined to be wet — 
 at least, it had been through March, and 
 we are now in the middle of April. The 
 Derby has another six weeks before it, and 
 as Flying Scud's nomination for the Guineas 
 is void, he has nothing in the way of im- 
 pediment to a sound and careful preparation 
 for the Surrey event. 
 
 The library table at Nobbley Hall had 
 the remains of a bachelor's breakfast on 
 it. 
 
 The Glowicorifi of the night before had 
 just reached the Hall, and gave the Squire 
 the latest intelligence upon racing matters. 
 He was astonished to hoar that the Scud 
 " was somewhat shaky in the market, and 
 that there was a strong disposition to lay
 
 THE NEW SQUIRE OF KOBBLEY. 213 
 
 against him on the part of some gentlemen, 
 who were generally well informed about 
 North-country horses. He had finished, 
 however, only a point lower than his recent 
 price, owing to the support accorded to him 
 by a stranger." 
 
 The paragraph closed with a hope that 
 " the stable, which had hitherto enjoyed a 
 high reputation for straightforward conduct, 
 was not about to folloAv the example of cer- 
 tain parties, who were too well known to 
 require special description." 
 
 Having got thus far, Tom Meredith rose 
 from his arm chair, and with a mighty oath 
 — for unfortunately he was not above 
 swearing, under great provocation — rang 
 the bell ; and as repairs had not gone on 
 so swimmingly in John Sykes's time as they 
 might have done, the handle came off in his 
 hand : at the same time he kicked the Glow-
 
 214 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 worm indignantly, forgetting that it only 
 acted honestly in giving the information, 
 and commenting on it. 
 
 " Is Nat Gosling downstairs ?" said the 
 new master. 
 
 " I think not, sir ; but we can bend the 
 boy over to his cottage." 
 
 "Do so, at once ; and tell Tape (that was 
 the new man) to pack my portmanteau at 
 once. I'm going to town by the mid-day 
 train." 
 
 In the course of half an hour Nat Gros- 
 ling arrived. Tom Meredith could scarcely 
 regard the old man in the light of a ser- 
 vant, and it required some tact to know 
 how to treat him. Nat, however, had 
 brains enough never to take a liberty, for 
 he loved the old name, and knew his 
 master to possess the best characteristics of 
 his progenitors ; so that before others he
 
 THE NEW SQUIRE OF NOBBLE Y. 215 
 
 was essentially the coniidential stableman ; 
 in private lie was treated witli more in- 
 dulgence. When the old man reached the 
 door he touched his grey hair with his fore- 
 finger, and then awaited his master's sum- 
 mons to enter.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 AN HONEST MAN. 
 
 " You'd better take a chair, Nat ; I want to 
 talk to you." 
 
 In the days of John Sykes, !Nat made 
 use of the whole of the seat, leaning com- 
 fortably, though perpendicularly, against 
 the back ; he now occupied a narrow corner 
 of it only, and placing his hat upon the 
 ground, prepared to listen. 
 
 "I'm going to town, Nat, and wanted 
 five minutes' talk with you before I go.*' 
 
 Tom then asked after a lot of yearlings
 
 AN HONEST MAN. 217 
 
 by name, and some decent two-year-olds^ 
 and tlie trial horse ; but with these the 
 reader has nothing to do at present. He 
 watched old Nat's face very closely, who 
 gave him a satisfactory account of health 
 and promise. 
 
 "And what do you think of Mr. Mas- 
 terman, Nat ? The young things look 
 well." 
 
 " Oh, he ar' gotten his head screwed on 
 the right way, surelie. I hope he won't be 
 too fond o' gallopin'. They new fangled 
 notions don't accord wi' me at all." And 
 Nat shook his head, not much like Lord 
 Burleigh. 
 
 " At present, it don't seem like it. He's 
 a steady man, and knows his business. I 
 know it, too, you know ; so I can answer 
 for that. And now, Nat, how about the 
 Scud?"
 
 218 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 " Never was better ; never see a horse 
 thicken so at this time o' year. He grows 
 the right way, Squire, down'ards. But 
 what will t' Scud do if you goes to London 
 just now ? It's a ticklish time." 
 
 "I'll tell you what he'll do, Nat— he'll 
 go up in the betting to a short price, and if 
 Easper wins the Guineas, you know how 
 safe the Derby is for us, by the line we 
 have. Look at that"— and he handed the 
 innocent Glowworm to Nat Gosling, who 
 read the paragraph with some difficulty, 
 and then returned the paper to his mas- 
 ter. 
 
 " I'd let 'em alone. Squire, if I was you. 
 Only give 'em rope enough, and they'll hang 
 themselves. I think I know whose doing 
 this is." 
 
 " Yes, and in the meantime have it said 
 that I got as much out of the horse as I
 
 AN HONEST MAN. 219 
 
 could. The reporters don't believe in an 
 honest man, Tom." 
 
 " Everybody does so ; it's no use telling 
 the world how good he is before the time. 
 We shall let in the scoundrels who want to 
 lay against him." 
 
 " And the honest men, who will fear to 
 stand bv him/' 
 
 "If you go into the market, Squire, 
 you'll get, maybe, 7 to 1 at four o'clock 
 p.m., and he'll close, two hours later, at 4 
 to 1. To-morrow morning it'll all come 
 out that the trial was a false one, and there's 
 an end o' the fortune you may make if 
 you'll only 'bide quiet. If they go knockin' 
 t' Scud about, and nobody comes to the 
 rescue — as they caUs it — you'll be able to 
 take 20 to 1, as often as you like, before 
 anyone's a bit the wiser. To back the 
 horse now is to play Mr. Grindley Goodge's
 
 220 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 game. He'll like to lay 4 to 1 better nor 
 8, a good deal, I take it." 
 
 " Grrindley Goodge ! what's lie got to do 
 with it ?" says Tom, rather tartly. 
 
 "You know Mark Heron, the biggest 
 poacher in Yorkshire ?" 
 
 "I do. AYhatof him?" 
 
 " He's Grindley's tout. They two thieves 
 war alwaj^s too thick to please me. He was 
 seen slinking off on the morning of the 
 trial, when poor John Sykes died. He saw 
 the trial, and thinks the horses ran at even 
 weights. Now you know why Flying Scud 
 has been unsteady in the market ; the metal 
 has been at work. They southerners think 
 nothin' o' that." 
 
 " Then I'll put the metal right to-day, 
 Nat; and I won't forget you when I do so. 
 Mind, a man's a right to do what he likes 
 with his own. He may run what trials he
 
 AN HONEST MAN. 221 
 
 will, and protect himself from robbery and 
 touting as well as he can — and he may hold 
 his tongue. It's a small sacrifice, Nat, to 
 the rascalities of the business. But if he 
 ever tells a lie, or allows it to be told on his 
 behalf (I'm not sure that he ought to profit 
 by another man's falsehood), he's not worthy 
 the name of a gentleman, and couldn't be 
 handicapped with my notion of the thing, 
 at any weights. I'm going to back my 
 horse for five thousand between this and 
 the First Spring Meeting, and a good deal 
 more afterwards, if that comes oft* as it 
 should; and I don't care who knows my 
 opinion of his chance. I believe he'll win 
 the Derby, and I shall most likely say so 
 before I've been five minutes at Tatter- 
 sail's." 
 
 Nat sighed profoundly as he took his 
 hat from the ground, and rose from the
 
 222 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 corner of the chair he had partly and 
 painfully occupied. His own thoughts were 
 not profound, and may be simply expressed 
 thus : 
 
 " If those robbers are disposed to knock 
 down the Scud to 25 to 1, so much the 
 better : and if the honest backers of horses 
 are such fools as to listen to the rogues, and 
 to follow them, let 'em do so, and find out 
 their mistake. There are plenty of wolves 
 in sheep's clothing who would not be the 
 worse for the loss of their fleece." 
 
 So Nat Gosling reflected, but he had too 
 much respect for his master to say so. 
 
 As the old man got up from his seat, there 
 appeared in his manner some sort of disin- 
 clination to leave the room at once. He 
 hung back, turning his hat round in his 
 hand, and looking first at his master, and 
 then at the pattern of the carpet, which
 
 AN HONEST MAN. 223 
 
 Nat must have, at least, known by lieart. 
 Jt was evident that he got up intending to 
 go ; but he didn't go as if he had quite 
 finished his business — nor had he. 
 
 Nat had been for the last few weeks 
 mustering up courage to ask Tom Meredith 
 the reason of his altered conduct towards 
 Kate. Not that Nat was really highly dis- 
 pleased at the change — as regarded the girl, 
 though it went some way with him — but 
 he wished to clear up his own notion of 
 Tom's character ; he neither believed in his 
 pride nor his inconstancy. So he twirled 
 his hat, and stopped short ; then he opened 
 the door, as if he might want to make a 
 bolt of it, and turned towards Tom. 
 
 " Beg pardon. Squire, but have ye ever a 
 message for little Kate ?" 
 
 Tom Meredith stared for a minute at the 
 old man, and then said, with tears in his eyes.
 
 224 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 " No, Nat, no ; not to-day ; I've no mes- 
 sage." 
 
 " No," said Tom Meredith to himself, 
 ■" I wisli I could send Kate a message. I 
 wish I could tell her what a scoundrel she's 
 taking up with, and though I daresay I'm 
 no better than thousands of my fellow-crea- 
 tures, I'm an honest man at all events, and 
 w^as a sober and happy one till she made me 
 otherwise." 
 
 This he said to himself, while Nat stood 
 in the doorway, hat in hand, looking some- 
 what reproachfully at his old friend and new 
 master. 
 
 Tom was right ; he w^as an honest, good, 
 fellow, steady and persevering, and his esti- 
 mate of himself w^as a modest one. But 
 he was a little bit reckless, and the old 
 blood of the Merediths was stirring in him. 
 If Kate loved a gambler and a roysterer, he
 
 AN HONEST MAN. 225 
 
 was very likely to exhibit himself in very 
 amiable colours before long. 
 
 Old Nat Gosling left the Squire also mut- 
 tering to himself, for though he could not 
 give vent to his pent-up wrath in the pre- 
 sence of Tom Meredith, he found it abso- 
 lutely necessary to let some of it off 
 before he was well out of the room. What 
 he really did say just reached the ears of 
 the Squire, and gave him something to 
 think about as he went up to town by tlie 
 niid-dav mail. 
 
 " She's not just what she seems to be." 
 
 "No ; she's not just what she seems to be, 
 nor what she was two or three months ago," 
 said Tom to himself ; "niore's the pity for 
 us both.'* With which he mounted his 
 phaeton, and hit the off horse so sharply 
 as to upset his temper for the rest of the 
 day. There are states of being in which 
 
 VOL. I. 15
 
 226 Till-: PLYING SCUD. 
 
 one must hit sometliing, and one of the 
 surest signs of the old Adam in us is the 
 sense of relief we feel when others suffer 
 as well as we. 
 
 So Tom started for London. 
 
 " Grood morning, Nat," said Mr. Joshua 
 Masterman, just coming out of the stable 
 yard as Nat Gosling came up. " I've been 
 looking for you. There's Eobert tells me 
 that there's been somebody lurking about 
 here all the morning, and he thinks he's 
 after no good." 
 
 This was a few days later than the scene 
 just recorded. 
 
 "Aye, aye. Mister Masterman; very like. 
 Master Eobert hisself isn't much good ; 
 what with beer and that precious appetite 
 of his, he's putting on flesh every day, and 
 he'll have to retire into private life now 
 afore he's won a Derby. He's out o' all the
 
 AN HONEST MAN. 227 
 
 two-year-old stakes already, and has nought 
 but t' Cooj) to fall back upon." 
 
 Just then Eobert appeared, and his per- 
 sonal appearance did not belie Nat Gos- 
 ling's description. At this moment, too, 
 Bob was bigger than usual with the news 
 which he was carrying about with him. 
 
 " I sa}^ Nat, I wanted you a while ago. 
 Do you remember a friend o' Captain 
 Goodge's — him as come round the paddocks 
 one mornin', a fat old buffer, looked like a 
 Jew, and called hisself Moses ?" 
 
 " Yes, Bob. Money-lending old black- 
 guard, I should think, by the look on him. 
 What about himP" said Nat, confront- 
 ing the too-stout boy, and looking mys- 
 terious. 
 
 " Why, nothin' perticular ; but I see hiui 
 here this mornin'.'* 
 
 "What time?" 
 
 15—2
 
 228 THE TLYING SCUD. 
 
 Nothing Nat loved like a little cross- 
 examination. 
 
 " Why, soon as it wor light ; just before 
 the young 'uns went out." 
 
 " That shows as you worn't in bed as 
 usual, Bob. And what was he doin' ?" 
 
 " He wasn't doing anything perticler, 
 but I thought you'd like to know. You 
 see, Nat, Mr. Masterman didn't know 
 the lot, so it worn't much use telling 
 him." 
 
 Nat felt the compliment paid to his ex- 
 perience, though it seems Bob hadn't been 
 able to keep it entirel}' to himself. 
 
 " No, no ; in course not. I'll take care 
 o' that gentleman. I thought I know'd 
 where them shifty tricks come from. 
 They've been giving i^opper to our horse 
 at the corner. If I catch one of 'em about 
 here, I'll give him pejDper as he won't forget
 
 AN HONEST MAN. 229 
 
 in a hurry. Mr. Masterman, wHcli o' them 
 boys belongs to Flying Scud?" 
 
 "Young Tom Piggott looks after him. 
 He's in No. 14 now." 
 
 " Ah ! I know him. He ain't a bad sort 
 o' boy, but his father's a Methody — regular 
 psalm-singer, and if you get one o' there 
 Dissenters and a Jew together, dang'd if 
 they wouldn't cheat the devil himself." 
 
 By which announcement you may con- 
 clude that old Nat was not too liberal in 
 his religious opinions. 
 
 "And who is it, Nat? 'cos somebody's 
 pulling the strings," said the boy. 
 
 " Well ; I can't rightly say. In course, 
 there's a gentleman at the bottom of it all. 
 It ain't everybody as is like our Squire. 
 Ah, if all the world was to go to work 
 like him, there'd soon be no racing at 
 all."
 
 230 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 " Why so, Nat? I don't see why racing 
 and honesty shouldn't go together." 
 
 "Because you're a booby. It ain't the 
 racing, it's the robbery as they Hkes."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 NAT GOSLING AT HOME. 
 
 After this, Nat Gosling went his rounds. 
 The old man's was an easy life of it ; but, 
 when occasion demanded his services, he 
 could be brisk enou^j^h. For some reason 
 or other, just nov/, he began to be remark- 
 ably active about the stables. Whether he 
 thought that the Squire was likely to be 
 ruined, or whether he doubted the new 
 trainer's honesty or capacity, is not easy to 
 say. Nat had become an undoubted 
 authority among the boys ; he even led a
 
 232 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 gallop to their delight — which he did to 
 perfection, notwithstanding his age ; and 
 he made his literary acquirements available, 
 by giving the lads a Sunday evening lec- 
 ture, theological as well as moral. 
 
 His honesty of purpose and industrj- 
 fitted him for the latter ; the former post 
 might have been better filled by the curate 
 of Middlethorpe, only they wouldn't have 
 paid attention to him. The Bishop of 
 Oxford, too, might have reasonably de- 
 murred to his definition of scriptural terms, 
 of which the reader may be glad of an 
 example. 
 
 "Now, Nat," said a persevering young 
 proselyte, anxious for information ; " you 
 said you'd tell us what a Pharisee was." 
 
 Nat hummed and hawed for a long time, 
 but he was sorely pressed by his juvenile 
 auditors.
 
 NAT GOSLING AT HOME. 231^ 
 
 " Now, Xat, you know it is of no uao if 
 you don't explain," said Robert. 
 
 " Well, boys, you know — a Pharisee ? 
 why, you all know what a Pharisee 
 is." 
 
 " No we don't, Nat ; never heard tell on 
 him afore." 
 
 "Quite sure?" said Nat. 
 
 " Quite sure," said the boys. 
 
 " Well, then," replied he, full of courage 
 from their ignorance, not from his own, 
 "he's a little white thins^ like a rab- 
 but." 
 
 Such was Nat Gosling, in his office of 
 jack-of-all-trades ; and having looked well 
 over the yearlings after exercise, and taken 
 a last look at Flying Scud — having pre- 
 viously done the pigs, the few Southdowns 
 that the Squire kept for his own eating, 
 and the shorthorns which had been trans-
 
 234 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 planted from Burleigh and Fawsley — 
 and having finally given a general lecture 
 on temjDerance and industry in the saddle- 
 room, over a joipe, he betook himself to his 
 home. 
 
 His home was not untenanted, though 
 Kate Eideout was absent. The chair of 
 honour, if it might so be called, was 
 occupied by one Mrs. Kettle. A warm- 
 hearted, good sort of woman she was, with 
 sharp black eyes, a great circumference of 
 visage, and figure too for that matter, and a 
 pagoda on the toj:) of her head, which she 
 called a cap, covered with bows — rainbows 
 they might have been denominated from 
 the variety of their colours. 
 
 The late Kettle had died early in life of 
 a consumption of spirits and water, and the 
 disconsolate widow had sought refuge in 
 the housekeeper's room of the late John
 
 NAT GOSLING AT HOME. 235 
 
 Sykes. She was said to have had designs 
 on the master, which failed ; and she 
 then transferred her attentions to Nat 
 Gosling, whom she thought of making the 
 second Mr. Kettle. Nat Gosling, however, 
 in his widowhood was impervious to the 
 tender passion. He was glad, notwith- 
 standing, to see Mrs. Kettle, in the 
 absence of Kate, and welcomed her gra- 
 ciously. 
 
 They conversed on divers subjects, of 
 which the Squire and his prospects was one. 
 Kate was gone to Mrs. Kirby, of Long- 
 gate, to spend the evening, and there w^as 
 no necessity for reticence. Mrs. Kettle 
 made tea, and added, as she said, for 
 cholic, something that never came out of 
 the pump. 
 
 " Ah ! he's terribly changed, is Master 
 Tom/' said Nat. " This fortin of his has
 
 280 THE TLYIXG SCUD. 
 
 upset the coach ; he's noways in form, Mrs. 
 Kettle." 
 
 "I don't mainly think it's the fortin, 
 Master Gosling. You may depend on it 
 there's a woman at the bottom of it. He 
 goes to York, and he loses his money, and 
 dines at the club, and stays away at this 
 house and that. I don't think he's slept at 
 home three nights out of the seven since 
 the old man's death." 
 
 '* That's a bad sign," said Nat, thought- 
 fully. " Ah ! it's the women, I ex- 
 pect." 
 
 " Oh ! and the men too — drat the men ;" 
 for Mrs. Kettle didn't allow everybody the 
 privilege of abusing her sex. " It ain't the 
 women as wins his money ; and I'm sure 
 he can't get a better dinner at the York 
 Club itself, though they do say great things 
 of it, than I can put before him any day."
 
 NAT GOSLING AT HOME. 237 
 
 Mrs. Kettle then spread her rather 
 coarse but very clean pocket-handker- 
 chief over her knees, and proceeded to 
 mingle buttered toast with her intelli- 
 gence. 
 
 Nat Grosling was anxious to learn what 
 he could of the squire's movements ; and 
 as he knew quite enough of domestic life to 
 be certain that the housekeeper's room or 
 the servant's hall got the first information, 
 he asked, with a great appearance of 
 simplicity, whether there was any " par- 
 ticular party as the master seemed to take 
 to. None o' the Miss Quails, think ye, 
 Mrs. Kettle?" 
 
 " Lor' bless you, Mr. Grosling. What ! 
 for the likes o* them to " 
 
 " Nor Colonel Maynard's, nor Miss Silver- 
 top, the great heiress ? And yet you think 
 there's a woman at the bottom of it all."
 
 288 THE PLYING SCUD. 
 
 Here Nat turned tlie whole contents of 
 his cup into his saucer, and drank it at a 
 draught. 
 
 " Mr. Gosling, do you ever guess what's 
 the matter wi' master? When he was 
 plain Tom Meredith, did he ever come 
 down here of a evening ?" 
 
 " 0' course lie did, to ask about the 
 horses, as in duty bound ; now he ain't 
 no call to come here you know, Mrs. 
 Kettle." 
 
 ''Folks did say something about our 
 Kate, Mr. Gosling, and I do say as 
 whatever happens, an honest man don't 
 go about with the wind. Money's money, 
 and love's love ; and they didn't ought to 
 be mixed up together." 
 
 **■ The}' very seldom are, Mrs, Kettle,'* 
 said Nat again, sententiously. 
 
 " I say, it would be a fine thing for Kate,
 
 NAT GOSLING AT HOME. 2:V,) 
 
 there's no denying it. It 'ud be a fine 
 thing for your granddaughter to be mistress 
 o' the hall, Nat Grosling. It's a different 
 thing from a trainer's cottage. Better is a 
 dinner of herbs where love is than a round 
 of beef and hatred therewith." 
 
 Mrs. Kettle knew what she meant, but 
 her tea had been stronger than usual that 
 evening. However, the round of beef was 
 quite near enough. 
 
 " Do you know, Mrs. Kettle," said Nat, 
 looking: throusrh a cloud of tobacco-smoke 
 at the energetic widow, " do you know who 
 Kate is ?" 
 
 " Kate's a great favourite of mine, Mr. 
 Gosling ; but she's your granddaughter, 
 and it 'ud be a fine thing to be mistress of 
 Nobbley Hall." 
 
 " Kate Eideout isn't my granddaughter ; 
 and if she was mistress of Nobbley Hall it
 
 240 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 wouldn't be more than she deserves. 
 When old John Sykes was a dying he made 
 me promise to keep the secret till Kate was 
 of age. To-day is her twenty-first birth- 
 day, and I'll tell you all about it." Here 
 Nat Gosling lit a pipe, and continued his 
 story at solemn intervals between the puffs 
 of smoke. "Asking your pardon, Mrs. 
 Kettle, now we're on the subject, Kate 
 Hideout's mother was a distant relation of 
 your late master, John Sykes. She ran 
 away with a young officer from the farm- 
 house in which she was at service as a 
 dairymaid." 
 
 " Shameful hussy !" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Kettle. 
 
 " Wait a bit, marm,' said Nat. " When 
 they went after her they found she was 
 married all right and regular, like an honest 
 woman. And as the young man had acted
 
 like an honest man by her, his family 
 refused to see her or him, and cut oil' the 
 supplies. That's the reg'lar course, I'm 
 told, when a i^entleman behaves to a poor 
 girl as he ought. I think I should l)e 
 inclined to leave him a shilling or two, but 
 they didn't. So they goes to India; and 
 he gets killed, and dies ; and she follows 
 him ; and all the propert}^ they sends back 
 was this one poor little Kate. John Sykes 
 educates her, and pervides for her, and the}' 
 calls her my niece — or granddaughter, or 
 something — 'cos he knowed how charitable 
 the world was, and what they'd ha' said of 
 him for pervidin' for a poor relation. So, 
 as I told t' Squire, she's not just what she 
 seems." 
 
 Nat had got as far as this in his ex- 
 planation of Kate's previous history, and 
 Mrs. Kettle was enjoying it open-mouthed, 
 
 VOL. 1. IC
 
 242 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 when the door of the cottage was burst 
 open, and Kate herself, as pale as a ghost, 
 rushed into the room. 
 
 Her fright amounted to very little, after 
 all. She had seen the notorious poacher, 
 Mark Heron, in company with a most 
 formidable-looking old Jew. It was moon- 
 light, and she thought she recognized the 
 stranger who had slept at Old Nat's cottage 
 for a night or two previous to the funeral. 
 She had not been accosted by them ; nor 
 did they appear to have been guilty of any 
 very suspicious conduct. But she had 
 heard them mention the name of Tom 
 Meredith, coupled with some vague threats 
 of vengeance ; and Kate, usually courageous 
 enough, conjured up terrors that at another 
 time would scarcely have occurred to her as 
 worth notice. 
 
 And when Kate had finished, she had to
 
 NAT GOSLING AT HOME. 243 
 
 listen to Nat Gosling's confession, to which 
 he added some reminders, that Kate was 
 now a lady of some fortune, and might 
 aspire to the hand of something or some- 
 body exceptional — even to a winner of the 
 Derby; decidedly, in Nat's opinion, the 
 man of the year. 
 
 It might reasonably have been expected 
 that this revelation should have elated Kate 
 Eideout ; and in one respect it did. Her 
 respectability of parentage, on her father's 
 side, seemed to bridge over a sort of gulf 
 between her and the Squire of Nobbley 
 Hall. On any other score she was the 
 Kate of old. Parents are valuable, and 
 she regarded them in this light, as geni- 
 torial, pecuniary, protective, and educational 
 aids. 
 
 These last three positions had been 
 eminently forfeited by Captain and Mrs, 
 
 10—2
 
 244 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 E-ideout, who had brought her into the 
 world, and had allowed her to shift for 
 herself when in it. 
 
 " I don't know anything, Nat, about 
 your being my grandfather or not," said 
 the girl, when told of her genealogical claims 
 on the late owner of Nobbley ; " but I 
 know that I have to thank you and John 
 Sykes for everything in the world that I 
 have, and I don't want to forget it. I 
 should have been very happy to have 
 remained your granddaughter, and I only 
 hope you'll do your duty by that Mark 
 Heron and the old Jew I've just met as 
 you've done it by me." 
 
 " They're only after t' Scud, my girl ; 
 but I think we shall be too many for 'em 
 yet;" with which he relapsed into a con- 
 templation of Mrs. Kettle's head-dress. 
 
 Before that lady's retirement, however,
 
 NAT GOSLING AT HOME. 245 
 
 Nat Gosling produced some of old Mr. 
 Sykes's very best port and sherry, and lie 
 and Mrs. Kettle proceeded to drink Kate's 
 twenty-first birthday, and to wish her many 
 years to enjoy the little bit of property that 
 John Sykes had given her, at odd times, to 
 say nothing of the legacy.
 
 CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 DESIGNS BY A PROFESSIONAL ARTIST. 
 
 While matters were thus progressing at 
 Nobbley and Middlethorpe, the dramatis 
 personcB were not idle in London. Tom 
 Meredith had reached his destination, and 
 found himself at once in the buoyant waters 
 of successful London life. The Squire's re- 
 putation had long preceded him. Old 
 friends of his uncle, the Colonel, were will- 
 ing to welcome him ; and had sons — ill- 
 natured people would have added daughters 
 — who were not likely to remember any-
 
 DESIGNS BY A PHOFESSIONAL ARTIST. 247 
 
 thinof to the disadvantao:e of so elicrible a 
 companion. 
 
 To tell the truth, there was very little to 
 recollect; for it is a remarkable trait of 
 good society that a man may be as poor as 
 he pleases, without any interference on its 
 part, and may " come again," as we say of a 
 beaten horse, without any intrusive in- 
 quiries, so long as he comes with plenty to 
 satisfy all demands, which, under those cir- 
 cumstances, are apt to be exigeant. Who 
 in the world had troubled themselves about 
 the Merediths when out of it? Who 
 wanted to know whether what Grindley 
 Goodo^e said of tlie antecedents of Tom 
 Meredith was true or false? He was no 
 great authority, and disappointed heirs were 
 known to be spiteful. In fact, the report 
 which he spread, or endeavoured to spread, 
 amons^ the men at Tattersall's, and at the
 
 248 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 clubs, was received witli about tbe same 
 favour as " I don't know whether you know 
 it or not, but your horse has lost a fore- 
 shoe," is received in the middle of a good 
 run. "Which is it?" "The near foot," 
 replies the obsequious stranger. " Ah ! 
 thanks : I dare say it won't hurt." Soito 
 voce : " Confound his stupidity ! why couldn't 
 he mind his own business ? I dare say I 
 should never have found it out till the run 
 was over, and now I shall be fancying he 
 goes lame at every stride." 
 
 What could it signify to old Lord Cruis- 
 keen if Tom Meredith had been a bailiff, or 
 a tenant farmer, or a trainer ; he looked 
 like a gentleman ; the Merediths were very 
 good people, heraldically considered ; Tom 
 rode and drove capital cattle, and gave good 
 dinners, and played high, and lost his mo- 
 ney like "one of us.*' Glenlivat was quite
 
 DESIGNS BY A PROFESSIONAL AllTIST. 249 
 
 right to put him up at the Turf, and I shall 
 <^o clown and canvass for him. With the 
 youngsters his family misfortunes created a 
 strong sympathy, now that they had come 
 right again ; and it was quite a feather in 
 his cap that the Colonel had ruined himself 
 with gambling and extravagance, and left 
 Tom to bear the brunt of it, and go into 
 slavery for his uncle's^debts. I don't know 
 that one thrives so well on family ruin, 
 unless one has a good Phoenix-like chance 
 of coming out of the ashes all right again 
 after a time. 
 
 One thing was quite clear : Tom was 
 living as if he were determined to make up 
 for lost time. His first appearance at the 
 Comer (for it was the Corner, you know, in 
 those days) put the Flying Scud in his 
 right place, and Captain Goodge and Major 
 Mullicran in the wron^^ one. As, however.
 
 250 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 tliose gentlemen and their friends had their 
 own reasons for believing that the owner 
 was either ignorant or dishonest, and that 
 the Criterion winner was only intended for 
 milking purposes, they felt no compunction 
 in laying the odds pretty freely, as the price 
 day after day became shorter, and takers 
 more numerous. Tom Meredith made no 
 mystery of his own opinion, and being one 
 of those ill-mannered fools who speak the 
 truth whenever they do open their mouths, 
 he persuaded his friends that he had a colt 
 as likely to win the Derby as an}" public 
 horse in the betting, so they backed him 
 accordingly. 
 
 Honesty is the best policy on the turf ; 
 for as few speak the truth or believe it, it 
 is well calculated to deceive universally. 
 Diplomacy is said to share its reputation 
 and its defence.
 
 DESIGNS liY A PllOFESSIONAL ARTIST. 251 
 
 If all that was said of Tom Meredith had 
 been true, he need have won a fortune on 
 the Derby, if his health lasted as long. I 
 am not going to defend the system by which 
 he was endeavouring to cheat himself into 
 happiness or forge tfulness. It would be 
 preferable, and more in accordance with 
 some parts of his character, that he should 
 have endeavoured to bear what his dis- 
 ordered imagination taught him to believe, 
 or that he should have gone straight- 
 way, analytical!}^ or personally, into an 
 investigation, which would have been at- 
 tended with very little inconvenience, and 
 certain relief to himself and Kate Ride- 
 out. 
 
 However, Tom's present position is one 
 of an entirely exceptional kind. The con- 
 viction that we have been deceived where 
 we had the ^^reatest reason to trust, is, of
 
 t:'.yZ THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 all things, the hardest to bear — the most 
 agonizing, the most distracting ; and to 
 talk of inconsistency in such a crisis is only 
 to describe the natural result of the trial 
 upon a strong and nervous mind ; so Tom 
 wallowed in all the extravagance of sensual 
 pleasure, and made his body a slave to fifty 
 passions, while his mind was the slave but 
 of one. 
 
 And while the Squire — much abused 
 name in the days we live in ! — was Vv'asting 
 his substance in riotous living, another of 
 our acquaintances by no means confined his 
 attention to his bettinii^-book and its accom- 
 paniments. Grindley Goodge had other 
 irons in the fire. To say that Grindley 
 Goodge, or any rascal of the same kind, was 
 in love in its best sense, is to give them 
 credit for more than they are capable of. 
 From the moment he had set eyes on Kate
 
 DESIGNS BY A PllOrKSSIOXAL AIITIST. 25;> 
 
 Eideout lie had conceived a violent and 
 misdirected passion for the girl ; and the 
 circumstance of her unprotected situation, 
 as one of his own tenants (as far as he 
 could understand), gave him hopes which 
 his knowledge of her character would not 
 have excited. 
 
 Unfortunately her own request to him, 
 made in behalf of Tom Meredith, and a 
 coquettish manner, natural to her, and in- 
 creased by her position as a suppliant to 
 him, encouraged those hopes. It was not a 
 time for Kate to have resented, severely, 
 any impertinent allusions, or presumptive 
 gallantries, as long as they were confined to 
 words, nor did she do so. She was quite 
 willing to trust to her own resources at any 
 future time to relieve herself from the re- 
 sults of that interview, in which she begged 
 and received a favour. Grindley Goodge,
 
 254 THE PLYING SCUD. 
 
 too, whose very passion was tiuged with 
 avarice and revenge, attached double im- 
 portance to the pursuit of his object, by 
 reflecting that Nat GrosHng and Flying Scud 
 might be assailable through Kate ; and 
 that Tom Meredith's punishment would be 
 doubly severe if it deprived him of a Derbj^ 
 and a mistress at the same time. Any idea 
 of the honourable love that Tom felt for 
 the girl herself, after his restoration to 
 his true position, was inconceivable to 
 Groodge. 
 
 The cloth was still on the breakfast- table 
 at Captain Goodge's lodgings in Piccadilly. 
 The confederates were together, and dis- 
 cussing the chances of Easper for the Two 
 Thousand, which was to be run in a fort- 
 night's time. 
 
 " After that the Derby will be un- 
 pleasantly close for some of us. How-
 
 DESIGNS BY A PJIOFESSIOXAL ARTIST. 255 
 
 ever, I presume the trial was quite 
 right," said Goodge, helping himself to 
 a cigar. 
 
 " Quite right, as far as we can possibly 
 ascertain. I own the manner in which the 
 horse has been backed since Meredith's 
 arrival in town would have staggered me 
 but for Mark Heron's assurance," said Major 
 MuUigan. 
 
 " And what does that amount to r" in- 
 quired Chouser. 
 
 " That he was close by at the time ; that 
 the boys both say it was right. He ex- 
 amined them separately, and one is a re- 
 lation of his own ; and that he knows Nat 
 Gosling would like to do Meredith a turn 
 for the way he treated some girl at the 
 farm; and that's the reason lie's let him 
 back the horse as he has done." 
 
 " Two strings to one's bow, MuUigan, is
 
 25G THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 an Englishman's motto, and weVe got too 
 much money on it to run any risk. What 
 with Woodbie, and Fitzvvalter, and the 
 money we've got out of Meredith, who's as 
 green as grass, we can go on for a bit; 
 but if the Derby comes oif wrong, I must 
 
 go." 
 
 So spake Glrindley Goodge, in a man- 
 ner which had nothing but earnestness 
 about it. 
 
 " And I shall retire upon me friend Davis. 
 Faith, I'll be mortgaging me interest in 
 Castle Mulligan, and I'll look to Mo. there 
 to help me out of the scrape," said Major 
 Mulligan. 
 
 " S'help me, I shall be in the 'ole myself," 
 said the Jew. " There's Captain Groodge's 
 thousand, and Mr. Chouser's seven hun- 
 dred, and Lord Woodbie's bill for two thou- 
 sand "
 
 DESI(>NS BY A PROFESSIOXAL ARTIST. 257 
 
 " Why, hang it, Mo., what an old Jew 
 you are ; you know lie only got thirteen 
 hundred for it." 
 
 " And a fine Eembrandt, you remember — 
 a very fine Rembrandt — worth six hundred, 
 at least.'* 
 
 " A copy ; for which Christy offered him 
 forty-two pounds. Besides, he's as safe as 
 the church," said Chouser. 
 
 " Vich, Mr. Chouser, yours or mine ? 
 Ah ! it ain't just vot it vas. There's 
 guardians and fathers, and all sorts of 
 natural obstacles to gentlemen spending of 
 their money. And they plead their mino- 
 rity — and Lord Woodbie isn't of age. Oh ! 
 we must win, or I'll be in the 'ole." So 
 sighed Mo. Davis. 
 
 " We must win," said Goodge, who, at 
 all events, was a man of action. " We 
 must win. Now, IJavis, we shall make it 
 
 VOL. 1. 17
 
 25S THE FLYING 8CUU. 
 
 all safe, if you'll do as I tell you. The first 
 thing you'll do will be to go down to the 
 north. I'd go myself, but they know me 
 too well. You'll get hold of my friend, 
 Mark Heron — you know whereabouts to 
 find him ; and as you're a client of old 
 Quail, there won't be much difficulty about 
 that. You must go to work with Mark ; 
 he's safe enough. He owes Meredith a 
 grudge, which he'll pay with interest. He 
 had him in once for three months, and he 
 hasn't forgotten it. The first thing is the 
 boys. One's enough — the boy that takes 
 care of the Scud. It's young Tom Piggott. 
 He's come of a bad lot— they're all Dis- 
 senters. It's no use to lieat too man}' irons, 
 if you want but one. See what's to be 
 done with the boy first." 
 
 " They're such liars, are them boys, Cap- 
 tain ; they'd take your spondoolics, and
 
 DESIGNS BY A PROFESSIONAL AllTIST. 2 59 
 
 then sell ye to the other party. I don't 
 like boys." 
 
 " No fear with an old file like you, Mo. 
 I should like to see the boy that would get 
 anything out of you for nothing. How- 
 ever, the thing must be done, and as we 
 must stay here, 1 wish you would go down 
 to Nobbley. It's too delicate a business 
 to trust to everybody. If 3^ou report 
 well, I'll run down myself; and I would 
 now that Meredith's away, but I'd rather 
 not be seen till a little later. Have you 
 done anything for Meredith yet ? He 
 must have spent a year's income in the last 
 month." 
 
 " Not yet. His paper's valuable at 
 present, and there's some of it out in 
 the City. They'll come to me by-and- 
 bye." 
 
 " And if you'll come to me in the 
 
 17—2
 
 2f)0 THE FLYING SCUD. 
 
 evening, I'll tell you liow to proceed at 
 ]Nrobbley;' 
 
 "Which he did, and the result of which 
 we shall see hereafter.
 
 CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 " AVHAT AKE THE ODDS AS LONG AS YOu'rE 
 HAPPY." 
 
 AVe must return now for a while to Lord 
 Woodbie. He was a delightful type of the 
 utterly reckless young English gentleman. 
 He was, up to the code of honour estab- 
 lished for general guidance in fashionable 
 society, a perfect gentleman. There was a 
 coolness, a perfect sangfroid, in all his pro- 
 ceedings, in contemplating which it seemed 
 marvellous that he should be ruining him- 
 self so rapidly. He had always had a taste
 
 2G2 " AVIIAT ARE THE ODDS 
 
 for fast life of the high school, in which, 
 in an inverse ratio to the apparent absence 
 of all effort, was the effect wrought. 
 
 And we live, happily, in days when a 
 man is so far indejieudent of convention 
 that he may make a beggar and an exile of 
 himself in emj way that he pleases, so long 
 as he reaches that consummation at last. 
 Lord Woodbie knew that there were many 
 roads leading to the devil, and at first he 
 was under some difficulty as to choice. 
 He hung a long time between the Mecsenas- 
 like occupation of theatrical patronage with 
 a pnma donna, and the popular character 
 of an Apicius. The first he rejected from a 
 sense of its servility ; the latter from its 
 utter inadequacy to the end proposed. The 
 prevailing taste of the day led him to New- 
 market and the Shires. 
 
 While yet an undergraduate he had a
 
 AS LONG AS you're HAPPY." 26;5 
 
 string at the headquarters of turf business, 
 and was in treaty for the Poundingshire 
 hounds, as soon as the present master 
 had finished his occupation. It was sup- 
 posed that another year would about do for 
 him. He had had then four (and no one 
 ever exceeds five) seasons in a fashionable 
 county. 
 
 The room in which we now find him was 
 moderately sized, and most exquisitely 
 furnished. On the left of the door, upon 
 entering, was a long table, round which 
 stood some twelve or fourteen men, all of 
 them dressed as gentlemen who have lately 
 left the table, but exhibiting in their de- 
 meanour and appearance a wide variety of 
 intellectual and genealogical type. They 
 stood round while the caster, shaking 
 the dice-box, called his main, and backed 
 it.
 
 264 "WHAT ARE THE ODDS 
 
 111 the centre was a table, not unlike the 
 table d'hote of the Hotel des Princes or the 
 ( Irand in Paris, where plate-glass, flowers, 
 imit, and champagne and claret invited 
 the players to refresh themselves after a 
 successful coup. There is nothing so appe- 
 tising as winning a thousand or two. 
 
 On the right of the room was another 
 table, more frequented, perhaps, than the 
 hazard-table. It was covered with a rou- 
 lette cloth, and the ball continued to roll 
 while the players were invited to make 
 their game. 
 
 Here and there, between the two, or 
 standing over the fireplace discussing the 
 chances of the Two Thousand candidates, 
 were small knots of men, with their pencils 
 and betting-books in hand. 
 
 " Will nobody back anything," said a 
 languid voice from the centre.
 
 AS LONG AS you're HAPPY." 265 
 
 " Yes, I will — seven. Seven it is — 
 wait till IVe thrown out. Don't go, old 
 fellow. Seven — five. I'll take the odds. 
 I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll lay you four 
 hundred — five it is; that's seven monkeys 
 you owe me, Cardington. I'll lay you four 
 hundred to one against the Scud for the 
 Derby, if you'll lay me five to two against 
 Easper for the Guineas. Come, that's on 
 the square." 
 
 " No, I can't back the Scud at that price. 
 You v/ant Meredith " 
 
 At that moment the door swung open, 
 and Tom Meredith walked into the 
 room. 
 
 ^'What's that, Woodbie?" and he pulled 
 out his book. " I'll take you four hundred 
 to one — again, if you like." 
 
 "Write it down, Meredith." Which he 
 did.
 
 '2i)i) "WHAT AEE THE ODDS 
 
 Tom Meredith had been drinking ; he 
 was perfectly master of himself, but there 
 was an excited look about him, and his eyes 
 were restless and inflamed. His face, too, 
 had become thinner, even in these few 
 weeks, though he was still as handsome as 
 ever, and an excellent type of the English 
 countrv (j^entleman. There was no man 
 who showed birth more palpably, in spite 
 of ever}^ disadvantage, than Tom Meredith. 
 There was, however, a weary look about 
 him, and a worn expression of face, which 
 seldom lighted up, excepting on the subject 
 of his Derby colt. 
 
 xlmong the players at either table were 
 the Duke of Cadwallo, Lord Glenlivat, 
 Fitzwarren, Colonel Cardington, Groodge, 
 and Mulligan. They made way for Mere- 
 dith, who took the box and threw out at 
 once. As he looked up, he saw Goodge
 
 AS LONG AS you're HAPPY." 267 
 
 and Mulligan, and returned the formal bow 
 of the first by equally slight and formal 
 recognition ; with Major Mulligan he was 
 less particular; and had the bowing and 
 betting acquaintance of e very-day life. His 
 position with Grrindley Goodge, after what 
 had occurred, was peculiar. He would 
 willingly have ignored him, had it been 
 possible, but it was not. 
 
 At men's rooms, at the club, at Tatter- 
 sail's, everywhere he met with him ; and 
 from the first moment he had been betrayed 
 into a sort of recognition of him. A. de- 
 cided quarrel would have jeojDardised the 
 reputation of Kate ; better let things take 
 their chance, and avoid familiaritv with 
 one whom he had reason to regard as a 
 scoundrel and his enemy. 
 
 After playing, with very bad luck, for 
 half-an-hour, he turned to leave the club-
 
 :268 ''wii.vT ARE THE odds 
 
 house, and was greeted by Lord AVoodbie, 
 witli whom he had become tolerably inti- 
 mate. 
 
 " Come home with me, Meredith ; it's 
 hot, and I'm tired of this ; come and have 
 a rubber, or a game at ecarte." 
 
 Meredith assented, and they walked slowly 
 down to Grosvenor-square. 
 
 " Put lights in the small library, and lay 
 out the card-tables ; and put some supper 
 and champagne into the dining-room. Has 
 anybody been here ?" 
 
 No one had been there. At that moment 
 there was a knock at tlie door. 
 
 "Sir Felix Graham and Mr. Fitzwarren," 
 and the servant shut the door. 
 
 " What did you do, (Iraham ?" 
 
 " I lost a thou ; and Fitz won three 
 hundred of it. I'm come here to get it 
 back again."
 
 AS LONG AS YOU'llE IIAPPV. 201) 
 
 This ingenious confession inspired no 
 anxiety, as Graham was proverbially un- 
 lucky. 
 
 " Then let us begin, or you'll have a 
 participator in your success. I believe 
 Mulligan and Chouser are coming." 
 
 "Who's the woman I saw with the 
 Major in the phaeton? They say she's a 
 daughter or a niece." 
 
 "Something of the sort; a niece, I 
 beheve," said Woodbie, who felt obhged 
 to say something ; and he blushed as he 
 said it. 
 
 " They say Grlenli vat's a good deal there. 
 Old Cruiskeen won't like that." 
 
 " The girl would have the worst of it, I 
 should think. Latimer is quite as good a 
 man as Glenlivat ; and I know no harm of 
 Major Mulligan, or his family." 
 
 Lord Woodbie spoke rather more argu-
 
 270 
 
 mentatively than the subject seemed to 
 require. 
 
 " All I mean to say is, that as Glen 
 has no money, and Mulligan can't be a 
 millionaire, the match wouldn't be to old 
 Cruiskeen's liking. She'd look well enough 
 as a countess, whenever the old boy goes ; 
 but beauty won't pay the mortgages on the 
 Glenlivat property, Woodbie." 
 
 " But you think she would look well as a 
 countess, Felix." 
 
 '' She's the best looking woman I've 
 seen, and I intend to cultivate the 
 Major." 
 
 Here there came anutlier knock at the 
 door. 
 
 " Then you've nothing to do but to drojD 
 another thou to night, and let part of it 
 go into his pocket," observed Fitz warren, 
 languidly.
 
 AS LONG AS i'OU'llE HAPPY." 271 
 
 ''What does he give you ut billiards, 
 Woodbie ?" 
 
 " Nothino". I can fjive him ten out of a 
 hundred. He plays rather a flukey game, 
 or I think I could manage fifteen." 
 
 Fitzwarren thought not, so did Mere- 
 dith ; but it was no use to say so ; so the 
 young nobleman continued happy in his 
 delusion. 
 
 The Major arrived, and with him, not 
 Chouser, but Goodge. Then the part}' 
 agreed to a pool at ecarte, \vhich they 
 played till four in the morning, the princi- 
 pal winners being Meredith and Sir Felix 
 Graham ; but there was no great mischief 
 done, and revenge was promised at the 
 Major's house at no distant period. 
 
 Somebody says that revenge is sweet. 
 I hope these gentlemen found it so. But 
 I have my doubts of the truth of that pro-
 
 27-2 "AVHAT AllE THE ODDS 
 
 verb, when it costs six or seven hundred 
 pounds. You may give too much money 
 for a sovereign. 
 
 This was precisely the case three nights 
 afterwards, when Major Mulligan entertained 
 a select • party at his own house, the only 
 individual of the party utterly indifferent to 
 losses or gains being Lord \A^oodbie. That 
 gentleman had been exceedingly piqued, 
 without certifying it to himself by the 
 association of any name but his own with 
 Julia Latimer ; and as Lord Glenlivat was 
 just the sort of person to be emulated 
 rather than followed, Lord Woodbie de- 
 termined to ascertain before long the exact 
 position he held in tlie hxdy's estimation. 
 In fact, he was very seriously in love, and, 
 although Lady Woodbie and Lord Cruis- 
 keen, and plenty more earls and countesses, 
 might have turned up their noses at the
 
 AS LONG AS you're HAPPY." 273 
 
 mesalliance^ good luck or Providence, had 
 brought his juvenile lordship face to face 
 with a very worthy object for the exercise 
 of his affection. So he lost and won, and 
 lost again, cheered by the presence of his 
 divinity, who presided in her uncle's draw- 
 ing-room, until the lateness of the hour and 
 the heaviness of the stake, warned her that 
 it was time to retire. 
 
 Lord Glenlivat had the best of the play 
 and the worst of the game, and was easily 
 consoled for the preference given to Lord 
 Woodbie by getting back some of his lost 
 thousand. 
 
 Woodbie had quite ignored the pleasures 
 of ecarte, where the lucky abundance of 
 kings in his adversary's hands accounted 
 for his losses, until he had handed over all 
 his ready money, and was wondering where 
 he was to find a few hundreds more for 
 
 VOL. I. 18
 
 274 " WHAT AEE TEE ODDS 
 
 to-morrow. The dilemma was solved by a 
 most respectable old gentleman with a 
 curious accent, who had watched the various 
 encounters with considerable interest, but 
 who had declined playing. 
 
 "10 U's," said he, upon seeing one of 
 them across the table, " is nothing. Give 
 a little bill, that's my way : you owe seven 
 hundred. Lord Woodbie." Then and there, 
 to the apparent astonishment of the party, 
 he drew forth a large pocket book, full of 
 acceptances and bills of all sorts. " There, 
 get upon the back of that : just put your 
 name across there. It's for von thousand 
 at three months' interest, at ten per shent ; 
 no commission charged; no nothin' — just 
 as a friend : that's von hundred more. 
 Now, Major Mulligan, you give Lord 
 Woodbie two hundred change. There, now 
 you got your money. His lordship's got
 
 AS LONG AS you're HAPPY." 275 
 
 somethin' in hand, and then he'll pay me 
 the thousand pounds ven he can. We 
 always renews.'* 
 
 " I don't see the great advantage," said 
 Lord Woodbie, laughing, and pocketing the 
 notes. 
 
 '' Vy, you're all satisfied, and it makes 
 the time pass so quick. The three months 
 '11 go like winking, ven you're on the back 
 of a good bill." 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 BILMN(i, PKINTKB, OUILUFOBO.