"Such a pity. Hope can't come!"
Mrs. Latimer addressed Baring, who had just approached her across the
racecourse. The sun was shining brilliantly, and the scene was very
gay.
Baring, who had drawn near with a certain eagerness, seemed to stiffen
at her words.
"Can't come!" he echoed. "Why not?"
Mrs. Latimer handed him a note.
"She sent this round half an hour ago."
Baring read the note with bent brows. It merely stated that the writer
had been working all the morning and was a little tired. Would Mrs.
Latimer kindly understand and excuse her?
He handed it back without comment.
"Where is young Carteret?" he asked. "Have you seen him yet?"
"No," she answered. "Somebody was saying he was late. Ah! There he is,
surely--just going into the weighing-tent. What a superb horse that is
of Mr. Hyde's! Do you think he will win the Cup?"
Baring thought it likely, but he said it with so preoccupied an air that
Mrs. Latimer smiled, and considerately refrained from detaining him.
She watched him walk down towards the weighing-tent; but before he
reached it, she saw the figure of young Carteret issue forth at the
farther end, and start off at a run with his saddle on his shoulder
towards the enclosure where the racers were waiting. He was late, and
she thought he looked flurried.
A few minutes later Baring returned to her.
"The boy is behindhand, as usual," he remarked. "I didn't get near him.
Time is just up. I hear the Rajah thinks very highly of Hyde's Waler."
Mrs. Latimer looked across at the Indian Prince who was presenting the
Cup. He was seated in the midst of a glittering crowd of natives and
British officers. She saw that he was closely scanning the restless line
of horses at the starting-point.
Through her glasses she sought the big black Waler. He was foaming and
stamping uneasily, and she saw that his rider's face was deadly pale.
"I don't believe Ronnie can be well," she said. "He looks so nervous."
Baring grunted in a dissatisfied note, but said nothing.
Another two minutes, and the signal was given. There were ten horses in
the race. It was a fair start, and the excitement in the watching crowd
became at once intense.
Baring remained at Mrs. Latimer's side. She was on her feet, and
scarcely breathing. The black horse stretched himself out like a
greyhound, galloping splendidly over the shining green of the course.
His rider, crouched low in the saddle, looked as if at any instant he
might be hurled to the earth.
Baring watched him critically, his jaw set and grim. Obviously, the boy
was not himself, and he fancied he knew the reason.
"If he pulls it off, it'll be the biggest fluke of his life," he
muttered.
"Isn't it queer?" whispered Mrs. Latimer. "I never saw young Carteret
ride like that before."
Baring was silent. He began to think he understood Hope's failure to put
in an appearance.
Gradually the black Waler drew away from all but two others, who hotly
contested the leadership. He was running superbly, though he apparently
received but small encouragement from his rider.
As they drew round the curve at the further end of the course, he was
galloping next to the rails. As they finally turned into the straight
run home, he was leading.
But the horse next to him, urged by his rider, who was also his owner,
made so strenuous an effort that it became obvious to all that he was
gaining upon the Waler.
A great yell went up of "Carteret! Carteret! Wake up, Carteret! Don't
give it away!" And the Waler's rider, as if startled by the cry,
suddenly and convulsively slashed the animal's withers.
Through a great tumult of shouting the two horses dashed past the
winning-post. It seemed a dead heat; but, immediately after, the news
spread that Hyde's horse was the winner. The Waler had gained his
victory by a neck.
Hyde was leading his horse round to the Rajah's stand. His jockey,
looking white and exhausted, sat so loosely in the saddle that he seemed
to sway with the animal's movements. He did not appear to hear the
cheering around him.
Baring took up his stand near the weighing-tent, and, a few minutes
later, Hyde and his jockey came up together. The boy's cap was dragged
down over his eyes, and he looked neither to right nor left.
Hyde, perceiving Baring, pushed forward abruptly.
"I want a word with you," he said. "I've been trying to catch you for
some days past. But first, what did you think of the race?" He coolly
fastened on to Baring's elbow, and the latter had to pause. Hyde's
companion passed swiftly on; and Hyde, seeing the look on Baring's face,
began to laugh.
"It's all right; you needn't look so starched. The little beggar's been
starving himself for the occasion, and overdone it. He'll pull round
with a little feeding up. Tell me what you thought of the race! Splendid
chap, that animal of mine, eh?"
He kept Baring talking for several minutes; and, when they finally
parted, his opportunity had gone.
Baring went into the weighing-tent, but Ronnie was nowhere to be seen.
And he wondered rather grimly as he walked away if Hyde had detained him
purposely to give the boy a chance to escape.
X