Part 9

Dick mounted his nag, and rode beside his master to the course, where the horses were to be matched against each other when Lord Sandford and his friends should have finished their merry meal, and be ready to witness the exhibition. It was a fine stretch of ground which had been chosen--nearly a mile in length, and with several natural obstacles, which had been increased in some cases artificially, to test better the strength and skill of horse and rider. A stream of water with rather awkward banks ran across the course in one place, and in another was a dip in the ground filled with gorse bushes--a nasty place to get entangled in, if the horse could not be persuaded to clear the whole thing with a flying leap. A broken stone wall with a ditch in front was another obstacle; and the last was a barrier entirely artificial, made of hurdles and bushes high enough to tax the mettle of any horse, though not absolutely insurmountable. Still it was a formidable object enough, and Grey looked at it critically, walking Don Carlos up and down, to let the creature take his own observations with regard to the leap he was to make.

"It was here they were busy yesterday, but I could not see all they did. I was afraid to leave Don Carlos with so many strangers about. Some of the grooms with the other horses looked up to mischief. But I heard them say afterwards that Lord Sandford had not been satisfied with the field as it was. He said they must have something that really would be a test, or the black stallion and Don Carlos were like to come in together."

But now a horn blew gaily, and horsemen were seen approaching from many quarters. In the neighbourhood of the inn all was bustle and excitement, whilst from all sides there appeared streams of people converging to this spot. Some fine carriages had been driven out from London, with bedecked ladies eager to witness the contest. Others had stayed the night in the neighbourhood to be ready; and all the natives of the place who could get a holiday had come to gape at the fine folks, and see the grand gentlemen racing their own horses.

Indeed the hour for the contest had well-nigh come. Grey could see that the other horses were assembling, their riders decked in every colour of the rainbow, quite eclipsing the quiet and workmanlike suit of buff which he wore. But Grey's taste had always disinclined him to gaudy colours. The soft leather, finely chased and stamped in gold, pleased his eye more than rich-hued cloths or velvets. His breeches were of white buckskin cut by Lord Sandford's own tailor, and he wore long boots fitted with silver spurs, albeit he scarcely ever had need of the latter when he bestrode Don Carlos. His scarf was of white silk fringed with gold, and his only adornment was a cravat of fine lace, fastened with a diamond clasp. His cocked hat matched his buff coat, and was adorned with a white plume. Altogether, as he rode forward to his place, it would have been hard to find a fault with his dress or person; and the ladies behind their fans audibly praised his elegant figure, graceful seat, and distinguished and handsome face.

Grey, all unconscious of the favour bestowed upon him, rode up and saluted courteously the gentlemen who were to meet him and each other in rivalry. Lord Sandford, splendidly mounted, was to act as judge at the winning post. Another of his friends was to be starter; and gentlemen were posted at various points along the course to see that all the rules laid down were observed, and that no rider deviated from the well-pegged-out route prescribed for all. The spectators scattered hither and thither, taking up stations wherever their fancy prompted. The course seemed marked out by a glittering border extending down both sides. The sun shone brilliantly in the sky, and all nature seemed in gladsome mood.

Grey cast a keen look at the seven rival steeds as they were brought into line for the start. He picked out in a moment the two of whom Dicon had spoken, and saw that he had judged well. Then he gave his whole mind to the task in hand, checked with hand and voice the prancing of the excited Don Carlos, and brought him up to his appointed place docile and motionless.

The word was given, but the black stallion had bounded off a few seconds too soon, and had to be recalled. A second start was spoiled by two other competitors, who suddenly reared at each other, and strove to fight. One iron hoof, indeed, inflicted such a wound upon the shoulder of his neighbour that that horse had to be taken away limping and bleeding.

It was trying to all, horses and riders alike; but at the third start all got off, though Grey saw that again the black stallion had made his bound a second too soon. This gave him a few yards the advantage, which, as his rider pressed him hard from the first, and his temper was evidently up, he increased in the next minute to more than a length. The Arab and Don Carlos were neck and neck, and sailed over the first easy jump side by side, the stallion having cleared it with a tremendous bound a couple of seconds earlier.

The water jump was next, and it was obvious that one spot offered greater advantages to the horse than any other. The stallion made for this spot with a rush, took off and bounded clear over, just as Don Carlos and the Arab came rushing up neck and neck, each rider desirous of the advantage of the sound bank. Grey set his teeth and glanced at his adversary. A collision at the leap might be fatal to one or both, so far as the race went. His rival would not budge an inch--that he saw. With a muttered oath between his teeth, he pulled his left rein, and used his knees. Don Carlos felt, and instantly understood: swerving slightly, he gathered himself together, and rose magnificently where the water was wider and the bank less safe; but he landed safely, and with a hardly perceptible scramble found his feet again, and amid the plaudits of the people raced on after the Arab, who, having got a momentary advantage, was now slightly in advance.

The black stallion had just reached the downward dip leading to the deep ditch filled with gorse bushes. His rider had had perforce to pull him up somewhat, lest he should slip and fall, for the ground was sandy and treacherous. But Don Carlos had been born and bred to this sort of wild work, and dashing onwards and downwards with the agility of a deer, came neck and neck with his rival, and having passed the Arab, cleared with a bound the treacherous gully, landing true and safe upon the opposite side. The Arab followed in his tracks, his rider taking advantage of the lead given; but the black stallion slipped and snorted, could not be made to try the leap till another of the horses came up and took it, after which he sprang across with a vicious energy which tried the horsemanship of his rider, and tore like a wild thing after the leading pair.

These had cleared one after the other the wall and ditch; but the Arab was showing signs of distress, whilst Don Carlos looked fresh and eager as at the start. There now remained only a quarter of a mile of smooth sward, and then the last critical jump; and Grey, knowing himself first, and not knowing what had betided his rivals, sailed happily onward, secure of victory, though he heard behind him the thud of flying horse hoofs, and knew that the black stallion was not beaten yet. It was he who snorted with such excitement and fury, and seemed to awaken thunders with his iron-shod hoofs.

One glance over his shoulder, and Grey passed his whip very lightly across the neck of Don Carlos. The gallant animal sprang forward like an arrow from a bow, showing how well within himself he had been travelling so far. The sound of other beating hoofs was fainter now. Grey looked keenly at the great obstacle looming up in his path, and measured the height at various places, deciding where the leap could best be taken.

He felt the tension of the muscles beneath him. Don Carlos was gathering himself together for the leap. He would not fail, falter, or refuse. The great mass seemed rushing up against him. He felt the slackening with which Don Carlos faced his task, the motion of his flanks as he took off and rose. Then what was it happened? The sound of a click, sharp and clear--a sickening sensation of falling, sinking, struggling, plunging. Grey felt for a moment as though the end had come. He and his horse seemed falling into the very bowels of the earth. A black shadow almost overhead showed him that the stallion had cleared the barrier, and the air was full of shouts, screams, cheers, and cries.

Next moment he felt strong hands lifting and dragging him upwards. Dick's white face looked into his own, and the first words he heard were hissed in his ear by his faithful henchman.

"Foul play, foul play, my master. That ditch was dug and concealed--ay, and more than concealed; it has been an old well at some time, and it will open with a spring. You have been grossly tricked and cozened. It has been a trap cleverly laid and baited. But let me only get at them--my Lord Sandford--"

Dick almost choked in his fury; but Grey was now on his feet, and his one thought was for the good horse, who had dropped downwards into this unseen, unsuspected pit, and was gasping in affright, but might possibly have escaped serious injury. He himself felt little ill effects, having had a marvellous escape. But his soul was stirred within him, and in getting out the horse he saw plainly that Dick had been right, and that some sort of old trap-door concealed an opening into the ground which might have been at one time a well, but was now silted up with sand. By luring the foremost rider to this particular spot to take the leap, any astute enemy aware of the nature of the ground could almost certainly ensure his overthrow and defeat; and Grey had his suspicions that Lord Sandford had hoped that he might then and there break his neck--a thing which might very well have happened.

There was a crowd round the spot now, and great horror was expressed by many at sight of the unsuspected well, no voice being louder than Lord Sandford's in proclaiming astonishment and indignation. But Grey took no notice of the clamour, only busying himself about his horse; and presently, with some difficulty, the sagacious and docile creature was got out, and it appeared that no limb was broken, though one hock was deeply cut, and one shoulder badly strained.

Grey stood in silent thought awhile, his hand upon the neck of his favourite, who stood with drooping head and dejected mien, as though wondering whether he would ever be whole and sound again. Dick was binding up the wound, his face like a thunder-cloud. A knot of persons of all ranks stood watching at a little distance; but Grey had courteously waved away all proffers of help, and indicated that he desired no attentions.

"Dicon," he said in a low tone, "we must now part for a while. Don Carlos will need you more than I. He is now my sole fortune, and must be respected as such. Take him and your own nag, and walk them both by easy stages to Hartsbourne. There are paddocks enough and to spare, and I surely have the right to pasture my horse in one; but if the thing should come to my kinsman's ears, give him what is due in money, and I will repay you. Old Jock Jarvis will be your friend. He will rejoice in your company and give you house-room with him, and it is not so far but that I can get news of you from time to time. Your good horse will bring you to London in three hours or less any day you have a mind to come; and you can watch for me what goes on yonder, and bring me word again."

It was a grief to Dick to part from his master; but he saw the need, and he loved the horse only second to Grey himself.

"I will do your behest, master. Nay, I want no money; I have plenty for all my needs. I too have made some modest wealth here in this great city. Only tell me where I may find you, and I will be gone, and do what can be done for the poor beast."

"You shall always get news of me at Wills' Coffee House, good Dicon," was the answer. "Where I go and how I live, I know not yet; but I will leave word there for you. So now, farewell. I turn a new page in my life from this day forth."

*CHAPTER X.*

*"THE OLD LION."*

Grey Dumaresq, having settled matters with his servant, and adjusted the disarray of his own dress and person, turned towards a group of men who were standing round Lord Sandford, making believe to laugh and jest, but showing some vague symptoms of uneasiness as they cast sidelong glances in the direction of their erstwhile comrade.

Grey walked straight up to Lord Sandford, and looked him full in the eyes. Did the glance of the other quail ever so little before his? He thought so, but could scarce be certain.

"My lord," he said, "I have to thank you for many acts of kindness and courtesy, and a certain liberality of treatment which I have received at your hands and within your doors. In taking my farewell, I wish freely to acknowledge all this debt. But other matters which I need not specify, yet which are well understood by your lordship, have transpired to change the relations betwixt us; and I wish to add that I desire to be beholden to no man. In the rooms allotted to me in your lordship's house there is a quantity of wearing apparel, jewels, trinkets, for which I have no more use. I pray you have them sold, and the amount thus realized will reimburse you for all charges you have been at in my maintenance during the time I have dwelt beneath your roof. That is all I have to say.--Gentlemen, I wish you a very good day."

And lifting his hat with quiet dignity and grace, Grey made them a general salute and turned upon his heel.

But Lord Sandford's voice came thundering after him. "Do you desire to insult me, sir? Am I a beggarly inn-keeper, that I should sell a guest's belongings to pay my bill? What do you mean by such words? Do you desire that I should demand satisfaction for them at your hands?"

Grey did not know whether this man desired to fasten a quarrel upon him or not, and, truth to tell, he did not care. He just turned his head over his shoulder, and threw back an answer in tones of scarcely veiled contempt.

"That is for your lordship to decide. I shall have pleasure in giving any satisfaction demanded at any time, and in any place appointed. For the rest, a man who has sought to compass the death of a comrade by a foul trick need scarcely fear to soil his hands by the touch of his gold. Again I wish you good-day, my lord."

And without so much as turning his head again, Grey Dumaresq walked off, his head held high, neither observing nor returning the many salutes and bright arch glances shot at him from the lane of bystanders through which he needs must pass, but walking like a man in a dream, and so disappearing from view along the white road which led Londonwards.

Round Lord Sandford men were buzzing like bees disturbed.

"Insolent young jackanapes!" "What did he mean?" "What was his motive in such an insult?" "What will you do, my lord?" "Whither has he gone? Whither will he go?" "Is it true that he is ruined?" "He has lost his horse, at least. None will give him a score of guineas for the beast now." "How did it chance?" "Was it an accident?" "What meant he by his words?" All were pouring out these and like questions; but there was none to answer them, till Lord Sandford himself spoke.

"The fellow's wits are gone astray," he cried in his loud, dominating tones. "It is the Dumaresq blood. Sir Hugh was just such another--mad as a March hare half his time, flinging his gold to the winds, and quarrelling with every man he met. Like father, like son. It has been coming on for days. I misdoubted me if ever he would ride this race. He came and told me he must reform. That was ever his father's cry, and he would disappear into the country for a while, and reappear again as gay as ever. 'Tis the same with the son. I saw it then, and I strove to combat the madness; but 'tis ill dealing with the lunatic. You see what we get for our pains! Tush! let the fellow alone. I did wrong to answer him. Let him go his own way, and we will think of him no more."

And Lord Sandford, with a heavy cloud upon his brow, and a look about the corners of his mouth which warned those about him to say no more, but leave matters as they were, flung away from them, and made his way back alone to the inn, from which he was presently seen to issue forth in his gorgeous chariot, driving furiously along the road which led to St. Albans.

His boon companions, thus left to their own devices, went over to the spot where the strange thing had befallen at the race, and where the country folk had gathered with shakings of the head and questionings beneath their breath; and there, plain for all men to see, was the yawning hole with the open trap hanging down, and the marks of the heavy fall of the good horse, whose escape with whole bones was little short of a miracle.

An old countryman was holding forth to a knot of eager questioners, now swelled by Lord Sandford's friends.

"I mind well when there was a house here; 'twas pulled down when I were a young chap. And the well must ha' bin hereabouts. That old trap has been in the ground ever since I can mind; but there be no water now, and the sand has pretty nigh silted it up. I've a-looked in many a time, and the hole gets less and less deep. When I saw them setting up the brushwood and things here, I made sure they had covered the trap well. I walked about it, but never saw sign of it. If I'd a thought of danger, I'd ha' told one of the fine folks. I suppose they never seed it. The grass and stuff do grow long and rank this time o' year. And so the gentleman's horse trod on it, and it gave way with him. Mercy me, but 'tis a wonder he didn't break his neck then and there!"

Lord Sandford's comrades looked each other in the eyes, and drew a little away. All knew that something strange had passed upon him of late, and that there was some rupture betwixt him and the man who had but lately accused him of seeking to compass his death.

"Did he know?" "Was it plot or plan of his?" whispered one and another; but none could give the answer.

* * * * *

A wild, wet September day was drawing to its close, amid pelting squalls of cold rain, when a tall young man, gaunt and hollow-eyed, pushed his way into a small coffee-house in an obscure thoroughfare somewhere in the region of Drury Lane, and took a seat in a dark corner as near to the stove as he could get, for he looked pinched with cold, and his plain and rather threadbare black suit was pretty well wet through. As soon as he was seated, he drew from his breast a roll of paper, which he regarded with solicitude. That at least was dry, and he heaved a sigh that sounded like one of satisfaction.

In this narrow street the daylight had completely faded, though it was not yet six o'clock. The room was furthermore darkened by clouds of tobacco smoke which the guests were puffing forth. The smell of coffee mingled with the ranker fumes of the tobacco, and the clink of cup and spoon made ceaseless accompaniment to the talk, which went on in a continuous stream.

Grey (for it was he) leaned his head on his hand wearily, and fell into something like a doze as he sat in his shadowy corner. He was exhausted in mind and in body. He was faint with hunger, and yet half afraid to order food; for his funds were dwindling almost to the vanishing point, and as yet he had found no means of replenishing his exchequer. But he had not been able to resist the temptation to escape from the buffetings of the tempest, and when the boy in attendance upon the guests came to ask his pleasure, he ordered some coffee and bread, and devoured it with a ravenous appetite when it was set before him.

The pangs of hunger stayed, if not appeased, he began to look about him, and to wonder into what manner of company he had thrust himself. He had never before been inside this house, though he had, in the first days of his new career, taken his meals in some of the numerous coffee or chocolate houses, or the taverns which abounded throughout the town. Latterly he had generally bought his food at the cheapest market, and had eaten it in the attic to which he had removed himself and his few belongings. He was beginning to wonder how long he should be able even to retain that humble abode as his own. Dame Fortune's smiles seemed quite to have deserted him, and abject poverty stared him grimly in the face.

A smoking lamp had been brought in, and hung overhead, lighting up the faces of the company with its yellow glare. There was something strange and Rembrandt-like in the effect of the picture upon which Grey's eyes rested. Leaning back dreamily with his head against the wall, he could almost fancy himself back in one of those foreign picture galleries, in which heretofore he had delighted, and where so many hours of his time had been spent.

But this was a living picture, shifting, changing, breaking up into groups and re-forming again; and the hum of talk went on unceasingly, as one after another took up the word and launched forth his opinions, generally in florid and flowery language, and with much gesticulation and indignation.

What first struck Grey as strange was the anger which seemed to possess all these men. That they were in no good case was well-nigh proved by the shabbiness of their dress, and by the fact of their being gathered in this very humble and cheap place of resort, which would not tempt any but those in adverse circumstances. But over and above their poverty, they seemed to be railing at neglect or injustice of some sort, and ever and anon would break out into virulent abuse of some person or persons, whose names were unknown to Grey, but who evidently were characters well known to the others of the company.

"There is no such thing as justice left, or purity of taste, or any such thing!" shouted a handsome, well-proportioned fellow, whose face had attracted Grey's notice several times, and seemed dimly familiar to him. "Look at the mouthing mountebanks that walk the boards now! They strut like peacocks, they gibber like apes. They have neither voice, nor figure, nor talent, nor grace. But, forsooth, because some fine dame has smiled upon them, or they are backed by a nobleman's patronage, they can crow it over the rest of us like a cock upon his dunghill, and we, who have the talent and the gifts, may rot like rats in our holes!"

"Shame! shame! shame!" cried an admiring chorus.

"Look at me!" thundered the young man, his eyes flashing. "Who dares say I cannot act? Have I not held spellbound, hanging on my lips, whole houses of beauty and fashion? Have I lost my skill or cunning? Has my voice or has my grace departed from me? Wherefore, then, do I sit here idle and hungry, whilst men not fit to black my boots hold the boards and fill their pouches with gold? Why such injustice, I say?"

A chorus of indignation again arose; but out of the shadows came a deep voice.