"Orty, stuck-up popinjay!" growled the trainer, mopping his forehead.
"But she's got to come down. And me on pins and needles all the time
for fear he should open his door and she see him! I did feel as if it
might be right to let her, but his monkey would have been up, and she
couldn't have stopped him from riding. Hullo!" he said, as he saw
Trimmer at the office-door. "Not gone!"
"No," whispered the agent. "I felt obliged to stay."
"And I feel obliged to kick you out. So cut."
"No, no, Mr Simpkins."
"Look here, sir, if that job's to be done, I can do it. I don't want no
complications. You can stand by me if it gets blown and there's a job
for the police. As it is, I'll do it or not do it, without your
meddling and putting in your spoon. Take your hook, dyer hear, and
before he comes."
At that very moment there was the rattle of a door handle in the
gallery, and a familiar voice exclaimed: "One moment, Sir Hilton, you've
left your whip."
"Give it me; but she'll want no whip."
The trainer made a fierce gesture, and the agent retreated through the
office, while the former thrust his fat finger and thumb into his
waistcoat pocket unconsciously as he advanced towards the foot of the
stairs, down which Sir Hilton came carefully, so as not to catch his
spurs in the carpet, and closely followed by Mark Willows, bearing a
long drab greatcoat. The baronet looked the very pink of a
gentleman-rider in his light-blue satin shirt, diagonally crossed over
the right shoulder by a broad scarlet scarf-like band, and scarlet
jockey cap to match. His breeches and boots fitted to perfection, and
as he stepped lightly into the middle of the hall, almost on the very
spot which his wife had occupied, there was a keen look in his grey eyes
and a slight quivering about his well-cut nostrils, making him seem
alert, ready, and quite the man who might be trusted with a race.
"There," he said sharply; "how long have I to spare?"
"Good half-hour, sir," said the trainer, gazing at his guest as if full
of pride at his appearance.
"Leave that coat on the chair, there, man, and go and wait for me at the
paddock."
Mark touched his hat and passed out, eager to get on to the field of
battle, swarming with objects of interest to the groom's eyes, while
Simpkins approached his guest, smiling and rubbing his hands.
"Well, Sam," said Sir Hilton, shortly; "do I look all right?"
"All right, Sir Hilton? Splendid!"
The eager admiration seemed to be perfectly real, as the trainer walked
round, inspecting carefully.
"Not your old things, are they, Sir Hilton?"
"Oh, yes. Been lying by these three years. Look--creased and soiled?"
"Fresh as a daisy, Sir Hilton. Why, its like old times. Here, hang the
business! It may take care of itself to-day. I'm coming to see you
ride."
The man spoke back over his shoulder, as, leaving his guest shaking
himself down in the unaccustomed garb, he hurried into the office, where
a pop was heard, and he returned, bearing a waiter, on which was a
foaming champagne bottle and a couple of glasses.
This he placed upon a little marble table, and began to fill the glasses
with trembling hands, a little in first one and then in the other, till
the cream ceased to threaten flowing over, when he placed the bottle by
itself and bore the waiter and its glasses towards the guest. "Hullo!
What have you got there, Sam?"
"Irroy, black seal, Sir Hilton."
"I see; but I didn't order it."
"No, Sir Hilton, but you won't mind taking a glass with the old
trainer--to La Sylphide, and the winning of the cup?"
"No, no, no, man. Nonsense! Very good of you, but I want a cool head
and a steady hand."
"Of course you do, Sir Hilton; but one glass o' dry fizz! Not much harm
in that, Sir Hilton. You'll do me the honour, sir, just for luck?
Tighten up your nerves, and make you win in a canter."
"Do you want me to win, Sam?" said Sir Hilton, sharply.
"Win, Sir Hilton? Of course. I thought I was going to lose heavily,
but I've put it right, and it means a couple of hundred if you sail in
first."
"And if I lose?"
"I shall be just about even, Sir Hilton," said the man, with a grin, as
he held out the tray.
"Well," said Sir Hilton, whose cheeks were flushed with excitement, "I
shall win, Sam."
He took up the clear, foaming glass, from up whose centre the tiny beads
were rising fast, like a fountain, to break and add to the sparkling
foam. "Here's La Sylphide, Sam."
"Here's La Sylphide, Sir Hilton," cried the trainer, "and thanking my
old master for the honour done to his old trainer Simpkins, chrissen
Sam."
As he spoke he fixed his eyes full upon those of the gaily-dressed
jockey facing him, and, taking his time from his guest, raised the glass
to his lips and kept it there till it was drained, before holding out
the salver for Sir Hilton's empty glass.
"Bah! Too dry," said Sir Hilton, with a slight grimace. "How long have
you had that wine?"
"'Bout seven year, Sir Hilton," replied the man, setting down the waiter
and replacing the bottle by the glasses, but so clumsily that he knocked
over his guest's glass, which was shivered to atoms on the floor.
"Oh, I beg pardon, Sir Hilton! I'm so excited with the race that my
head's all of a shake. Hi, somebody, a clean glass!"
The barmaid ran out with the fresh glass, and she was followed by one of
the other maids with a dustpan and brush.
"That's right, my lass; be careful; don't leave any bits."
As he spoke he lifted the little marble table out of the maid's way and
filled the glasses again, before raising the waiter to hand it for the
second time to his guest.
"No, no, Sam; one's enough."
"What, Sir Hilton! You won't wet the other eye?"
"No, not even if I were not going to ride. That wine's bad."
"Bad, Sir Hilton?" cried the trainer, raising his own glass to the
light, sniffing at it, tasting it cautiously, and then looking again at
his visitor. "Mouth must be a bit out o' taste with the excitement.
Seems to me--" He raised his glass to his lips again, took a good pull,
and then drained and set it down. "Beg your pardon, Sir Hilton," he
said; "I don't set up for a judge, but I wouldn't wish to taste a better
drop o' cham than that."
"Glad you like it," said Sir Hilton, tetchily.
"Try it again, sir. Give your mouth a rinse out with it, and then
finish the glass."
"No, thanks; that will do. Bah! I can taste it now," said Sir Hilton,
snappishly, and he smacked his lips, and then passed his tongue over
them two or three times as he walked hastily up and down, tapping his
boot with the gold-mounted whip he held.
Simpkins watched him furtively and moved towards the bar, but turned,
and seemed to force himself to his guest's side. "Oh, yes, Sir Hilton,"
he said, "you'll win; and it'll be, as I said afore, two 'underd in my
pocket, while, if you lose, which you won't, it'll bring me within a
fiver or so of home."
"Get away! Don't bother," said his victim, sharply.
"Right, Sir Hilton. Course you've a deal on your head now, but, if you
wouldn't mind, I think I'll have half a glass more of that wine before
it gets flat."
"Bah!" ejaculated the baronet. "Thank ye, Sir Hilton," said the man,
refilling his glass, to stand watching his visitor while sipping slowly,
and muttering every time he raised his trembling hand something about
"good glass of wine."
Suddenly Sir Hilton made a quick turn and walked sharply towards the
door, making the trainer set down his glass hurriedly, glance at the
bar-window to see if he was observed, and then follow his guest to the
door; but, before he reached it, the baronet turned round and walked
back, close by the landlord, without appearing to notice him.
"Can't stand it no longer," muttered the man to himself. "Hah! Wonder
whether it will come off?"
He glanced at his victim sharply, saw that he was talking softly to
himself in the intervals of passing his tongue impatiently over his lips
and making a peculiar sound as if tasting.
"Tlat, tlat, tlat! Too dry. Burns and smarts," he said impatiently,
and then clapped his hand quickly to his head.
"Why not try another glass, Sir Hilton?" said the trainer; but no heed
was taken of his words.
"It's a-working," muttered the man. "Hope I didn't give him too much."
He glanced at the bright blue and scarlet figure again, and then,
drawing a deep breath he once more moved towards the door of his office,
where he stopped inside watching.
"Why, it's like giving him the jumps," he muttered. "Well, if it do go
wrong, I ain't done nothing. It's the drink. He must ha' been having
it heavy before he came here; and if that won't do, I'm blest if I'm
going to stand the racket all alone."
He stood watching his victim for quite ten minutes, during which time
the drug he had administered, one of whose properties as a trainer and
veterinary surgeon he was well aware, was working with wonderful
rapidity; and this was accelerated suddenly by Sir Hilton's action, for
to the trainer's great delight, the poor fellow gave a lurch which
brought him near the little table, where he recovered himself, saw the
bottle and glass, and seized the former with his left hand.
"Dry--thirsty!" he said hurriedly; and making an effort he poured out
another glass of wine, drained it, and was in the act of setting down
the glass when Granton came hurrying in, and Simpkins drew back out of
sight.