That crash was not a human utterance proceeding from the lips of Sir
Hilton Lisle, but a sudden shivering of glass, followed closely by the
falling of big flower-pots in the conservatory, amidst the breaking of
woodwork and rustling twigs and leaves.
But a human utterance followed in an angry, raucous voice which
shouted--
"Oh, murder! I've done it now; I've broke my blooming leg."
While faintly heard from somewhere outside there was the yelping,
barking, howling whine of a dog.
The effect was magical.
The ladies shrieked, the sleeper awakened, and sat up, frightened and
wondering, rubbing her eyes, and, as the two gentlemen rushed into the
conservatory, the two doors of the drawing-room were thrown open, for
Mark and Jane to enter by one, Syd and Sam Simpkins by the other.
"Oh, Syd!" sobbed Molly, holding out her arms.
"Oh, dear!" sighed the boy, after a glance at the great skin upon the
floor; "the cat's out of the bag now."
"Yes, reg'lar," growled the trainer. "There, don't you squeal, my gal.
There's enough to do the high strikes without you, and I'm going to see
as you have your rights."
"Syd, my darling, come here," cried Lady Lisle. "What does all this
mean?"
The boy was saved from answering by the action of Mark, who had darted
into the conservatory, dog-like, on hearing a scuffle going on, and more
breaking of glass, so as to be in the fight, and he now backed in,
dragging at the dilapidated legs of the race-tout, helped by Sir Hilton
and Granton, each of whom had hold of an arm, as they deposited their
capture on the carpet. "Gently, Marky Willows," said the prisoner,
coolly; "one of them legs is broke."
"Broken! Which?" cried the doctor, the natural instinct of his craft
rising above the feeling of triumph over the capture. In an instant he
was upon one knee, feeling for the fracture, "Why, they're both right
enough."
"Air they?" said the tout, coolly. "A blooming good job too! I thought
one was gone. Here, Marky, would you mind getting me my boots?"
"Your boots?" cried the groom, looking with disgust, in the broadening
daylight, at a pair of very dirty, stockingless feet.
"Yes, lad; they're jus' behind that there spiky plant in the big tub."
"There, Mark!" cried Jane, triumphantly. "Burglars! What did I say?"
"Burglars, be hanged!"
"You scoundrel!" cried Sir Hilton. "What were you doing there?" and, as
if answering, the piteous wailing of a dog came from outside.
"Trying to get out to my poor little dawg, Sir Rilton, on'y my foot
slipped just as I was opening that top light. You oughter be ashamed of
yourself, you ought!"
"Well, of all the effrontery!" cried Granton.
"So he oughter, doctor. That there flower-stand's painted up ter
rights, but it's rotten as touchwood."
"You ruffian! You broke in, and have been hidden there all the time."
"Broke in, Sir Rilton. Nay, I wouldn't do sech a thing. I come in at
that glass door right and proper enough, to try and see her ladyship
about that pretty little dawg, but she and you was so busy having a row
over the family washing that I says to myself, `The best thing you can
do, Dinny's to call again,' and I was going to call again, as I says,
when that beggarly rotten old flower-stand give way. Hark at the pretty
little dear asking for his master."
For the puppy whined again.
"Well, you're a pretty scoundrel!" cried the doctor. "You dirty brute!
Here, Hilt, old fellow, I should have him locked-up in a horse-box while
you send for the police."
"What!" shouted the tout, struggling up into a sitting position. "What
for?"
"Burgling," cried Sir Hilton.
"Not me, sir. I ain't no burglar. Where's my jemmies and dark
lanthorns, and where's the swag? I swear I ain't touched a thing."
"You may swear that if you like when you're brought up before the Bench,
where I'm chairman, as it happens."
"Me--police--brought up before the Bench? You won't do it, Sir Rilton.
I knows too much."
"What!" cried Sir Hilton and the doctor together, while the ladies
exchanged glances.
"You don't want the dirty linen washed in public," said the tout, with a
chuckle. "Her ladyship there said so."
"Enough of this," cried Lady Lisle, who had recovered herself. "Let
this man be taken away and secured till the police come."
The imperious words had their effect upon one who was present, Mark
collaring the tout.
"And you--man," continued Lady Lisle, "are that--person's father." She
uttered the word "person" in a tone, innocent as the appellation was, so
acid that it made, the trainer bristly and Syd more of a man.
"Yes, I'm her father, my lady, but it's no use to cut up rough."
"Silence, man!" cried Lady Lisle, indignantly; "take the creature away."
"Shan't!" roared the trainer, starting. "She's my gal, and she shall
have her rights."
"Syd!" cried poor Molly, in a passionate burst of tears, and she turned
and flung her arms round the boy's neck.
"Syd, my child!" wailed Lady Lisle, passionately. "You too? Has it
come to this?"
"Yes," sobbed and wailed the poor, pretty, childish-looking thing,
turning now upon Lady Lisle and throwing up her dishevelled head, "of
course it has; and he ain't yours now--he's mine, ain't you, Syd dear,
and you won't let your poor little wife be abused like that, will you?"
"No," cried the boy, stoutly, as Lady Lisle clapped her hands to her
temples, and stared as if she could not believe her eyes and ears.
"Yes, auntie dear, it's all right; this is my darling little wife, and
we love one another like--Here, what's the matter with you?"
This was to the doctor, who suddenly threw up his hands, spun round with
his face to Lady Tilborough, and began stamping about, laughing
hysterically, seeming moment by moment as if he would choke.
"Here, Lady Tilborough--Hetty darling," he half sobbed, "take me away.
I shall have a fit!"
"Be quiet, dear," she whispered, catching him by the arm. "I shall
break down too. Listen--pray listen! The whitewashing of poor old
Hilt."
Poor old Hilt had also clapped his hands to his head, and looked for a
moment as if his horrible fit of semi-delirium was returning and the
drug he had taken about to resume its sway.
"Here--water!" he cried. "No--no, I think I understand. Here, Syd, my
boy, is this all true?"
"Yes, uncle, it's true enough; and I'm proud of her."
"So am I, Syd--so am I. Hooray! Bless you, my boy! Bless you, too, my
pretty little darling!" he cried, catching Molly in his arms and kissing
her roundly again and again, while the pretty, childish-looking little
thing clasped him round the neck, smiled in his face, and replied with a
sharp, chirruping smack.
"Hilton!" cried Lady Lisle.
"But it's Syd's wife, my dear."
"Yes, my lady," cried the trainer, "and she's got her rights."
"Rights? Right," corrected Sir Hilton, taking Molly's hand, and tucking
it under his arm, to drag her shivering before the fierce-looking sharer
of his joys.
"Can't you see, my dear, that it's all right? Now then, tell the poor
little girl that you're ashamed of what you said."
Lady Lisle drew herself up, and seemed to be swallowing something that
forced its way into her throat. Then, coldly--
"Yes," she said, "I retract everything that I said--to--Syd's--Oh, the
horror of it!" she gasped. "Syd's wife. But as for you, sir--yes, I
wronged you, too, by those terrible thoughts; but all is at an end
between us."
"Eh?" ejaculated Sir Hilton.
"All is at an end between us. Never can I take the hand of man again
who could stoop to playing the part of a common jockey."
"But it was for the best, my dear."
"Yes, Lady Lisle," cried Lady Tilborough, "and to save two very old
friends from ruin and despair."
"Yes, Lady Lisle; that is a fact," cried Granton.
"Possibly," said Lady Lisle, coldly.
"And I'll never do so any more, Laura."
"Perhaps not," said the lady, half-hysterically, for something was
dragging her hard in her heaving bosom; "but I cannot trust the word of
a man who has degraded himself as you did with drink."
"Haw, haw, haw!" cried Dandy Dinny, in his most raucous tones.
"You hold your row," said Mark, giving his prisoner a shake.
"Shee--ahn't!" growled the man.
"Ah, Mr Trimmer, you are there," cried Lady Lisle, as the door opened
and the agent, looking pale, but particularly neat in his dark Oxford
mixture suit and white, much-starched cravat, entered, to look
wonderingly round at the strange scene, and wince as he caught the
trainer's eyes; but Lady Lisle's look fascinated him, and he could not
retreat.
"Yes, my lady," he said in his blandest tones. "I heard the noise of
breaking glass, and I hurriedly dressed and came down."
"Come here. I want your assistance badly. I am glad to have someone in
whom I can place trust."
She took a step towards the agent, and raised her hand as if to place it
upon Trimmer's arm, and her lips parted to ask him to lead her from the
room, when Dandy Dinny shouted coarsely to Trimmer--
"What, my lovely Methody P.! How much did you lose on the race?"
"Lose--race?" cried Lady Lisle, shrinking away, with white circles
seeming to form round her dark, dilating eyes. "Surely, Mr Trimmer,
_you_ were not there?"
"Why, of course he was, auntie," cried Syd. "I saw the old humbug
twice."
"What!" half shrieked Lady Lisle, "is there no one in whom I can trust?"
"Yes, my lady," cried the tout, harshly. "You trust to me, and buy that
little white dawg--no, I'll make yer a present of it, if you'll cry
quits about me being here. No, you don't, Marky; I'm going to speak.
I'm a-going to give her ladyship the right tip, and my tips are the real
square right 'uns."
There was a bit of a struggle, which was checked by Sir Hilton, who, as
if inspired by his thoughts, interfered.
"Yes, my dear," he said; "hear what the man says."
"Right you are, Sir Rilton. You always was a gent as I respected. Look
here, my lady, don't you be so hard on a gent as likes to go in for a
bit of the real true old English sport. I know, my lady--yes, I've jest
done, and then I'll put on my boots. Pricked my foot, I did, with that
there spiky plahnt. Here, don't you think anything o' that drop o' fizz
he had. Sir Rilton didn't have enough to make him tight."
"No--on my soul I didn't, Laura," cried Sir Hilton. "The man's right."
"Right I am, Sir Rilton," cried the tout. "No, you don't, my
white-chokered herb!" he shouted, making a dash at Trimmer, who was
quietly making for the door. "Got him! You, Mark Willows, you collar
old Sam Simpkins. He's t'other customer in that little game."
"Here, what do you mean, sir?" said Sir Hilton, sternly.
"Mean, Sir Rilton--mean, Lady Lisle, and my Lady Tilborough--and Heaven
bless my lady and the noble man of your chice--why, I mean this, as I
see with these here eyes, going about and in and out selling my c'rect
cards, all the starters, anceterer--No, you don't; down you goes on your
marrow-bones and makes confession to the lot."
The tout had tightly hold of Trimmer's collar as he spoke, and now, by a
clever kick, he sent his legs from under him and pressed him down upon
his knees, shivering, helpless, and whiter than ever.
"Now, my lady--now, all of you, here's the real true tip: Sir Rilton
here warn't tight. He was hocussed with a dose o' powder, so as he
shouldn't be able to ride La Sylphidey, and them's the two as done it.
That's my tip."
"A lie! You scoundrel! A lie!"
"I don't understand him," panted Lady Lisle.
"Hocussed him instead of the horse, my lady," said the trainer, coolly.
"You see, I couldn't get at the mare to save myself from a heavy pull.
Yes, my lady; yes, doctor, I mixed the dose, and I can assure you, Sir
Hilton, that cham was real good."
"But oh, daddy," cried poor Molly, bursting into tears, "don't say you
did a thing like that!"
"'Bliged to, my gal; but I should never ha' thought on it if it had not
been for that smooth-tongued Trimmer. There, Sir Hilton. I'm very
sorry, but I throw up the sponge."
"Now, Laura," cried Sir Hilton; "can't you forgive me now?"
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