MOSTYN LEARNS HIS ERROR.
Some seven or eight days after the sale of Castor, Captain Armitage
reclined at his ease in the dilapidated arm-chair which he
particularly affected. He had grown to like the untidiness and the
dirt of his dismal little sitting-room, and he would not have altered
his immediate surroundings for anything better, even had he been able
to do so.
It was about nine o'clock at night. He had partaken of a meagre
supper--he never ate much at the best of times--served up in
haphazard fashion by the one wretched serving maid, a poor little
slut, who did the whole work of the house. The plates and dishes had
not been cleared away but were piled up anyhow on a clothless table
by his side, and within easy reach of his hand was a bottle of
champagne, three parts empty, with which he had been regaling
himself. Close by, too, was another bottle which contained brandy;
Captain Armitage was very fond of champagne, only he used to say that
he preferred it diluted--but he was accustomed to dilute it with
brandy instead of water.
He had returned from London the day before, where he had had what he
would himself have called "a good time" upon the proceeds of Mostyn's
cheque for a thousand pounds. What had become of the money and how
much remained over was a secret only known to Captain Armitage; at
any rate, to judge by his complacent smile, the smile of a man who
was three parts intoxicated--he was not suffering from any pricking
of conscience for having disposed of property which did not actually
belong to him. He knew that there would be an unpleasant scene when
Rada returned, and there were times when he was a little afraid of
his petulant, self-willed daughter; but Captain Armitage was the kind
of man who lived in the present, and did not unnecessarily worry
himself about what might come to pass in the future. He had had his
thousand pounds, and that, after all, was the great point.
He had been obliged to tell a lie or so, but that was a matter of
very minor importance. He had explained to Mostyn, who had come to
him hot with excitement, and dragging young Treves in his wake, to
demand an explanation, that it was by Rada's own wish and permission
that he had sold the horse. This was the same tale that he had spun
for the benefit of old Treves when the idea of raising money upon his
daughter's property had first occurred to him. Mostyn had been
silenced, but the ominous giggle which had followed him when he
turned away was by no means reassuring. He had felt a strange desire
to turn back and punch Jack Treves's head, all the more so since the
latter had spoken of Rada in a familiar manner, which he resented;
but he had restrained himself for the sake of his dignity.
In the days which followed Mostyn had worried Rada's father not a
little. He had wanted the girl's address in order that he might
write to her, but this Captain Armitage had professed himself quite
unable to supply. The girl came and went as she chose, he didn't
worry his head about her. She was all right with her Newmarket
friends--but he couldn't even remember their name. Finally Captain
Armitage departed for London, and then Mostyn hung day after day
about Barton Mill House keeping watch for the girl's return. He felt
certain that her father had made no provision for her if she arrived
home before he did. Very often Mostyn called himself a fool for his
pains, for what, after all, was Rada to him? It was all very well to
tell himself that he wanted confirmation of her father's story about
Castor from her lips--that was true enough, but he wanted more
besides, and knew it. It was the magnetic thrill of his whole being
induced by her presence that he desired, and, though he could not
account for it, the feeling was there and had to be recognised.
Captain Armitage, alone in his dingy sitting-room, had just drained
his glass, crossed his slippered feet, which were stretched out upon
a second chair, dropped a stump of his cigar--it had been a fine
cigar--one of a highly-priced box that he had brought back with him
from London--and closed his heavy lids, preparatory to slumber, when
Rada herself swept into the room.
She came in like an avalanche, slamming the door behind her; for a
moment she stood contemptuously regarding the semi-intoxicated man,
then she unceremoniously aroused him to full consciousness of her
presence by jerking away the chair upon which his feet reclined.
Captain Armitage sat up grumbling and rubbing his heavy eyes.
The girl stood before him, indignation plainly written on every
feature. "Father, you've sold Castor!" she cried. "I met Jack
Treves not half an hour ago, and he told me. It's the truth, I
suppose?"
The man gazed at her vacantly. He had not expected to see his
daughter that night, and he was not prepared with any explanation.
Weakly he tried to turn the tables. "Where have you been?" he asked,
plaintively, "leaving your poor old father all alone like this----"
She deigned no reply. He knew where she had been.
"It's the truth, I suppose?" she repeated. "I want to hear it from
your own lips."
"Well, you see, my dear," he began, "we are very poor----"
"Is it true?" Rada's lips were compressed together; she was drawing
long deep breaths.
He went on mumbling. "We must live. I had debts. They had to be
paid somehow. A thousand pounds----"
"So it is true. You've sold Castor for a thousand pounds! You
pretended that you were doing it with my permission. Oh father! oh
father!"
Her mood changed with its usual lightning velocity. Her eyes were
brimming over with tears. Her father was the one man with whom she
always sought to hold her temper in sway. It was the instinct of a
lifetime. Pitiful, degrading object as he was, long ago as she had
given up all hope of effecting any reformation in him, of making him,
at least, clean, and manly, and wholesome, he was yet her father, and
she had lived with him ever since the death of her mother when she
was little more than a child. His deterioration had been gradual;
she had fought and struggled against it. She had taken upon herself
responsibilities unsuited to a girl of her age, but all her efforts
had been in vain. She despised the degraded old man, and that
because she saw him with no prejudiced eyes, she saw him for what he
was, but at the same time--he was her father.
Regardless of his protests she began to clear away the bottles from
the table; she did so by force of habit, though she knew quite well
that as soon as her back was turned he would be after them again;
there had been times, however, when he had not allowed her to
exercise even this authority, when he had stormed in violent fashion,
when he had even struck her. On this occasion, however, he ventured
nothing more than a feeble protest, lolling back in his chair,
smiling foolishly.
"A thousand pounds, my dear, think of it!" he muttered with a drunken
chuckle, "think of it! Needs must when the devil drives, you know,
and he's been driving at me, goading at me--oh, yes! an ugly devil,
and a lot of little imps besides. They wanted gold, and they've got
it. But we're going to make our fortunes," he went on, in maddening
sing-song monotone, "for there's enough left to back our luck at
Sandown and Ascot. That's what I had in mind, my dear. A quick
fortune--cash in hand in a week or so--not to wait a whole year for
the Derby, and then perhaps come down. There's Pollux, remember--old
Rory's Pollux." His head lolled over to one side, and he spoke
sleepily. "Besides, young Clithero will give you the colt back when
he knows the truth--it's ten to one on that. It'll be all right for
you, my dear, and you needn't worry about me."
"Listen to me, father," said Rada, biting her lip to restrain an
outburst of anger and disgust at the meanness, the vileness of the
whole thing. Her father had calculated upon Mostyn Clithero giving
her back her horse when he found out how he had been defrauded. He
did not mind what might be thought of himself--he had had his
thousand pounds. She dashed her tears away, and stood up by the
cupboard before which she had been stooping, attempting to hide the
bottles away. "Listen to me," she went on, "try to understand me if
you can. Castor was my horse. You gave him to me when he was
foaled. Now he has a big chance for the Derby. He was entered in my
name. I was his registered proprietor--he was to be ridden in my
colours. All my dreams were of Castor; I would sit building castles
in the air by the hour together. It brought colour into my life and
made me glad to live. You don't know what it has been to me; you
cannot understand how I delighted in watching Castor at his gallops,
whispering to myself, 'The horse is mine--mine--and in two years'
time--in eighteen months' time--in fifteen months' time--I shall
watch my horse winning the big race!'--that's how I used to go on; I
counted the months, the days, even the hours. All my pride was
centred in Castor; and you have sold him--sold him for a thousand
pounds!"
Her voice quivered and shook. She was speaking with an intensity of
feeling unusual to her. "I watched the little colt as he grew up,"
she went on, and her tone was low and plaintive now. "I fed him with
my own hand, just as I feed Bess, and he got to know and to love me.
I gloried over him as I saw him growing handsomer and
stronger--growing into what I had expected he would. I knew he would
win the Derby for me, every instinct I have told me so. And do you
know, father"--she drew a little closer to the old man's chair, but
she was not looking at him, she was absorbed in the train of her own
thoughts--"it was not only pride that possessed me; Castor was going
to make our fortune for us--I felt that, too--and the money would be
mine, mine to do with as I wished. I used to sit and dream of the
way I should spend that money. We were going to leave this ugly
cottage, and have everything nice and pretty about us; we were going
to start a new life altogether." Poor Rada! It was such a vain,
such a hopeless dream! for, as far as her father was concerned at
least, any new life was out of the question.
She caught her breath, and went on speaking, more to herself than to
him, quite heedless of the fact that she received no answer. "Oh! it
would have been my money--mine, just as Castor was my horse. If you
knew, if you could guess, how I have built upon this! But now there
is to be no more dreaming for me: the gold has been fairy gold, it
has slipped through my fingers like so many dead leaves. You have
taken Castor from me--you have sold him for a thousand pounds! And
now what is to be done?"
She choked down her sobs, clenched her little fists with
characteristic energy, vaguely conscious of the futility of her
emotional outburst, and her natural energy of disposition once more
coming to the fore, she took a quick step towards her father. "What
is to be done?" she repeated.
There was no reply, save for a dull, unintelligent grunt. Captain
Armitage's head was lolling over the side of his chair, his eyes were
closed, his mouth open. He was asleep--he had been asleep all the
while.
Rada's first impulse was to take him by the shoulders and to shake
him violently, for, small as she was, she knew that she possessed
more strength than he. Her nerves were tingling with suppressed
passion, her cheeks were suffused with colour. She touched him on
the shoulder; he stirred and muttered, then his hand went out
instinctively towards the table as though in search of his glass.
Rada drew back, nauseated. She knew that it was hopeless to protest
with such a man as her father--she must leave him to himself. It was
for her alone to act.
A few moments later, having loosened his collar and settled him as
comfortably as she could in his chair, a horrible task to which she
was no stranger, she stole quietly out of the room.
That same evening, Pierce Trelawny, who had been detained by his
father at Randor Park, arrived to stay the night with Mostyn at
Partinborough Grange. It was too late to visit the paddocks that
night, and, unfortunately, Pierce had to hurry on to London by an
early train the next day; but it was arranged that Willis should take
charge of his bag, so that a hurried inspection of Mostyn's purchase
might be made the first thing in the morning, after which Pierce
could walk or drive to the station.
The two young men had discussed the situation as they sat together in
the drawing-room of the Grange after dinner. Pierce had learnt the
full facts by letter, and, acting upon Mostyn's instructions, he had
kept the secret to himself. He agreed with Mostyn that this was the
wisest plan, though he asked, and obtained, permission to reveal
everything to his uncle, Sir Roderick, who, he opined, might be of
considerable assistance--if he chose--to Mostyn in a difficult task.
For himself, he was prepared to lend all the help in his power, and
place his experience--such as it was--quite at Mostyn's disposition.
It would distract his thoughts from Cicely, and from the hardship of
his own year's probation. "The governor hasn't yielded an inch," he
explained mournfully. "And, of course, I've written everything to
Cicely. I can't make the old man out. He threatens me with all
sorts of horrible consequences if I disobey him, and all the time
there's a sort of twinkle in his eye, as if he found it amusing to
bully me. But about yourself? You've got to buck up, you know.
There's no time to be lost."
Mostyn acquiesced. "I've made a start by purchasing Castor," he
said. "That has cost me a thousand pounds."
"Cheap, too, if the horse is all you tell me," commented the other.
"Well, you may run Castor for the Guineas and for the Derby, but you
mustn't neglect your other chances. What about the Royal Hunt Cup?
That is the race which falls first upon your list, I believe."
Mostyn quite agreed that the Royal Hunt Cup must not be overlooked,
although there only remained a fortnight or three weeks in which to
purchase a horse, already entered, for this race. "I suppose I ought
to have set about it before," he said rather limply, "but the fact
is, you see, I've been busy getting this house in order, and----" he
broke off suddenly. He did not like to tell Pierce the actual reason
for which, having purchased Castor, he had remained on at
Partinborough. The fact was that he had been on the look-out every
day for Rada, that he could not tear himself away.
Suddenly he blurted out the truth. "The girl fascinates me," he
said, in conclusion. "I can't understand how, or why. I don't quite
know if I hate or love her, but I'm quite sure that I want to master
her, to punish her somehow for having mocked me. She has challenged
me twice, and I want to be even with her. That's how we stand." He
blushed as he spoke, staring viciously at the toe of his shoe.
Pierce gave a low whistle. "You're in love, Mostyn," he said, "and
you've taken the complaint rather badly and in a particularly
dangerous style. I shall have to get you out of this, and as quickly
as possible: you may think of Rada as much as you like next year, or
when you've won your title to the legacy, but till then you must be
on probation, old chap, just as I am."
Mostyn agreed that his friend was right, and so it was decided
between them that he should join Pierce in London in two or three
days' time, and that they should devote their energies to finding
suitable horses to run for the Hunt Cup as well as the Goodwood Cup a
little later on. As a necessary preliminary step, Pierce had already
entered Mostyn for the National Sporting Club and also for the Albert
and the Victoria, and the sooner he put in an appearance there, to
make the acquaintance of the leading sporting men, the better.
The two friends reached the paddocks very early the next morning, and
Pierce looked Castor over before the colt was led out of his stable
to exercise. He scrutinised the animal with the eye of a man of
experience, and commented upon this and that point in a manner which
filled Mostyn with envy.
"Plenty of mettle and spirit," he said, dodging quickly out of the
way, as Castor, conscious no doubt of a strange hand upon his hock,
pranced to and fro in his stall. "In fine condition, too. I can see
nothing to carp at; if half of old William Treves's tales are true, I
should say you've got a good thing, Mostyn, and cheap at the price
you paid."
Pierce's good opinion was in no way altered when he had seen the
horse at exercise. He stood with his friend by the stable wall
facing the great bare track of country, over which Treves's horses
followed each other in straight, unbroken line. William Treves
himself was absent that day at Newmarket, but presently the two young
men were joined by his son Jack, who strolled leisurely up, and began
to talk in his usual familiar fashion.
Mostyn had seen a good deal of Jack Treves during the past week, and
nearer acquaintance had not improved his liking. He was quite sure
that the trainer's son had conceived a jealousy of him, imagining, no
doubt, that he and Rada were old friends. It was very evident by the
way he spoke of her that Jack considered he had a claim upon Rada's
affections, a claim which Mostyn, jealous in his turn, resented.
Having seen Castor put through his paces, Pierce was loud in his
praise of Mostyn's purchase, repeating all he had said in the stable,
and even appealing to Jack Treves to confirm his opinion. The latter
stood lounging against a post, smoking a cigarette, his thick lips
parted in an irritating smile. Mostyn could not help thinking that
there was something at the back of his brain to which he did not wish
to give expression. He had laughed outright once or twice without
apparent cause, and there was a palpable sneer on his lips as he
turned to Mostyn and informed him that Miss Armitage had returned the
day before, and would no doubt put in an appearance that morning.
Jack had divined correctly. It was as Castor, bestridden by a stable
lad, was drawn up almost opposite to them, and while the attention of
all three was bestowed upon the horse, that Mostyn heard a voice
close behind him, calling him by name, and turned to find himself
face to face with Rada. She had ridden up upon Bess, had dismounted,
leaving the mare to wander at will, and had approached unnoticed.
"Mr. Clithero."
Mostyn felt that peculiar thrill pass through him which was always
called forth by her presence. As on a former occasion her Christian
name had nearly escaped his lips, but this time he was able to check
himself. There was a glitter in the girl's eyes, and her lips were
drawn together in a manner which appeared to him rather ominous. It
was the first time he had seen her dressed in a riding habit, and he
thought how well it became her; at the same time he was glad that she
had not abandoned her straw hat, the red poppies of which toned in so
well with the dark tresses beneath them. She was looking deliriously
pretty, but Mostyn wondered in what mood she would display herself.
He had been forced to accept Captain Armitage's assurances about
Castor, but, all the same, he had not been wholly satisfied. He
remembered her challenge as to winning a Derby, "with some chance of
success, too," she had said. Could she have been thinking of Castor?
But of course the colt was his by every right. He turned, smiling
brightly, and extended his hand to the girl. She responded, but her
fingers lay cold and passive in his grasp. "We've been watching
Castor at exercise, Miss Armitage," he said with enthusiasm. "He's a
beauty, and I can't tell you how grateful I am to you for letting me
have him. I've brought my friend Mr. Trelawny to see him: you know
Mr. Trelawny, I think."
Pierce, with every intention of saying the right thing, piled fuel to
the fire as he, in his turn, shook hands with Rada. "I was awfully
surprised," he said, "to learn that Mostyn had been lucky enough to
buy such a horse as Castor. I was saying only just now, that if one
could judge of a Derby winner from a two-year-old----"
The frown on Rada's forehead deepened, her lips puckered up, and her
uncontrollable tongue had its way. "I should hate Castor to win the
Derby for Mr. Clithero or for anyone else. Castor is my horse, and
he was sold without my consent." She turned passionately upon
Mostyn, her black eyes shining. "It was mean and cowardly of you!"
she said. "You did it because of what I said to you the other day.
You did it to spite me! Can't you fight fair? Aren't there enough
horses in the world for you to buy, without robbing me of the one
ambition, the one hope of my life?"
Jack Treves chuckled. The scene had begun just as he had
anticipated. But Rada turned and fixed her eyes indignantly upon
him, and he took the hint and moved away.
"Miss Armitage, I had no idea," stammered Mostyn; "believe me--I----
"May I have a few words with you alone?" she interrupted.
Mostyn glanced helplessly at his friend. Pierce awkwardly pulled out
his watch. "It's time I was off," he said hurriedly. "It will take
me a few minutes to get to the station, and really there's only just
time. We shall meet on Friday as arranged."
He took hasty leave of his friend and of Rada. "Jove, how her eyes
glistened!" he muttered to himself as he hurried away. "Can Mostyn
really have fallen in love with the girl? Why, she's--she's a
regular little spit-fire; what's more, she'll have the horse back, if
I'm not mistaken." He gave one of his characteristic whistles.
"Poor Mostyn!" he added sympathetically.