THE SQUIRE AND THE SAINT.
Redmond Maynard opened the door, and, followed by his son, went in
search of the culprits. He knew his way about Stanton House, having
often stayed there when Fred May trained his horses.
"I know where we shall find them," he said, "in May's room." They
entered without ceremony and surprised the worthy pair enjoying a glass
of champagne. They looked ludicrously guilty, and the Squire burst out
laughing.
"You think you are very clever, no doubt," he said. "As it happens,
everything has turned out for the best, but you might have got into
trouble had it been otherwise."
"We had not much doubt about succeeding, or we should not have risked
it," said Eli. "I am sure you are not sorry we did so."
"No, we are perfectly satisfied," replied the Squire, "and you both
deserve credit for all you have done."
The trainer sent for another bottle of champagne, and the Squire and
Ulick joined them.
"There is no chance of buying the Saint, Mr. Lanark says," remarked the
Squire, smiling; "but as the horse is in the family I do not see that it
matters much. One thing you must promise me, when he has finished racing
you will send him to the Hazelwell stud."
"With pleasure," replied his son. "But he will stand a lot of training."
"I shall be surprised if he is not running as an aged horse," said
the trainer, "for I never saw one with better legs or a sounder
constitution; he is built for work, and cannot have too much of it. I
only wish he was in the Derby, he is the very horse for that race."
"Let us go and see him," said the Squire. And they went towards the
stables.
"I wonder what my father will think of his colour?" said Ulick to the
trainer.
"It will surprise him, and he will be disappointed as you were, until he
looks him over," was the reply.
"Eli, I shall not forget what you have done for us," said the Squire, as
they walked across the yard. "I know it was your plan that brought us
together. What made you think of it?"
"I saw you were feeling the separation more every week, and I determined
to put a stop to it if I could, so I took Fred May into my confidence,
and he eagerly agreed to my scheme."
"I wonder why Ulick will not return to Hazelwell with me?" mused the
Squire.
"Is he not going home with you?" asked Eli, surprised.
"No, he says he has good reasons for not doing so. He knows who ran away
with Janet, but he cannot tell me. Do you know?" asked the Squire,
quickly.
"No," stammered Eli, thinking to himself perhaps Ulick's suspicions
rested upon the same man as his own.
The Squire looked at him keenly, and said, "I believe you do. Confound
it, I cannot make it out at all; why am I kept in the dark?"
Eli was glad when the trainer called out, "You are going too far; this
is the Saint's box."
The Squire's mind was diverted, and he turned sharply round and walked
back.
The trainer threw open the door of the box, and the Saint was stripped
for their inspection.
The Squire looked at him in astonishment, and said, "Is this a joke,
that cannot be the Saint? What a horrible colour! I never saw such a
dirty grey before."
They laughed, and Eli was as much taken aback as his master.
"That is the Saint," said Ulick, "and I am not surprised you do not like
his colour. I thought as you think when I first looked at him, and so
did his owner, who parted with him solely because of his colour, and has
regretted it ever since. I refused to purchase him for no other reason."
"Then who bought him?" asked the Squire.
"Fred May, and resold him to me at the price he gave for him. If it had
not been for him I should not have had the colt at all."
"Upon my word I cannot help being disappointed," said the Squire. "He is
not fit to look at."
The trainer laughed heartily, as he replied, "Come, Mr. Maynard, that is
too bad, after all he has done. He has never been beaten yet, and do not
forget he 'downed' the present Derby favourite as a two-year-old. Forget
his colour, and examine him for his good qualities. I do not think you
will find a fault with him."
The Squire went up to the Saint and carefully handled him. He was a
considerable time making his inspection, and said at the conclusion--
"You are right; I cannot find fault with him, he is perfect, except for
his colour. What a pity it is; it will never do to breed from him."
"I should chance it," said Ulick. "He may get them a much better colour
than himself, and as far as make and shape and performances are
concerned, he cannot very well be beaten."
"When does he run again?" asked the Squire.
"In the Coronation Cup in Derby week. It is run over the Derby course,
and we want to show them what he can do. He'll meet last year's Derby
winner, the Cesarewitch winner, and the Gold Cup winner of last season;
if that is not a test of his quality, I do not know where it is to be
found," said May.
"That will be a race," replied the Squire, "and I must be there to see
it. I have a very good colt foal out of old Honeysuckle I am going to
keep, and I shall send him to you at the back-end."
"I shall be very pleased to have him," replied May. "What a wonder
Honeysuckle was on the turf, and at the stud she has been even a greater
success."
"And that does not always follow," said the Squire.
"By no means," replied the trainer. "The contrary is often the case."
The other horses at Stanton House were looked over, and after luncheon
the Squire and his son returned to London, Eli going back to Hazelwell
by a different route.
On their way up to town Ulick gave his father a full account of his
doings since he left home; and the Squire, in return, informed him of
the course of events at Hazelwell.
"If it had not been for Irene I should have been still more lonely," he
said. "She was with me last winter for some time, and cheered me up,
although I am rather afraid she was not particularly happy herself. I
wish you had fallen in love with her instead of Warren, it would have
been a good thing for all of us."
"If he only knew how I loved her," thought Ulick. Aloud he said, "She
ought to be happy. Anselm Manor is a fine place, and her husband has
plenty of money."
"He had," remarked the Squire, "but I do not know whether it is the case
now. He gambles and is seldom at home. He had to sell Holme Farm to pay
his debts, it was the best part of the estate. He had not the sense to
offer it to me; I would have given him half as much again as he sold it
for."
Ulick was surprised to hear this; he knew Warren Courtly was very well
off, and his gambling transactions must have been very heavy to force
him to sell Holme Farm.
"Does Irene know of this?" he asked.
"Yes, she cannot be kept in the dark. They have not been married long,
as you are aware, and yet I am very much afraid she has found out her
mistake, and, what is worse, I encouraged her to accept him. It has all
been a deplorable bungle, but I hope Warren will pull up in time."
They drove from Liverpool Street to the Walton Hotel, and Ulick sent
round to his rooms for his clothes.
As he dressed for dinner he little thought that Warren Courtly and Irene
were to be of the party; he was unaware of their presence in the hotel,
his father purposely not having mentioned it in case it might drive him
away.
It wanted half an hour to dinner-time, and he opened the window and
looked out across the gardens, the Embankment, and the river. The scene
attracted him, although he had seen it many times before; but the dull,
dark beauty of the Thames, as it flows through the great city to the
sea, possesses an irresistible fascination which seldom palls. London
and the Thames are bound together by historical ties which can never be
undone. The great watery highway glides heavily along under many vast
bridges, past huge warehouses, docks, and shipping from all parts of the
world, until it gradually empties itself into the Channel, and is lost
in the vast sea. Ulick knew Paris well, and wondered why there were no
steamers plying along the Thames as they did on the Seine. He thought it
a shame this great river should be thus neglected, for no more imposing
view of London can be obtained than from a boat.
He carelessly watched the traffic on the Embankment, and the people
lounging on the seats in the gardens below. London is always busy, and
yet it contains myriads of human beings whose sole occupation is to kill
time.
At the dinner-hour he went downstairs. His father informed him he had
engaged a table, and the waiter pointed it out to him. He crossed over
and sat down. In a few minutes he saw his father enter the room, and
almost fell off his chair in astonishment and dismay as he saw Warren
Courtly and Irene with him.
"It is a little surprise I have not exactly prepared for you, but am
giving you," said the Squire, smiling. "I have explained to them that we
are quite reconciled, and that there are no differences between us."
Ulick shook hands mechanically with Warren Courtly, who felt very
uneasy, and Irene, who did not conceal the pleasure it gave her to see
him again.
"It is the best news I have heard since you left Hazelwell," she said.
"I thought it too good to be true when your father told me of your
meeting and reconciliation at Newmarket."
"And I am more than pleased to see you again," he said, earnestly. "You
have not quite forgotten your old playmate and companion?"
"Oh, no; I never can forget those days; they were the happiest of my
life."
She did not think what she was saying until Warren said abruptly--
"That is not very complimentary to me."
Irene coloured slightly as she replied--
"You understand what I mean."
"And heard what you said," he replied.
"I am very glad Irene was so happy at Hazelwell," said the Squire. "We
always tried to make her so."
The conversation during dinner-time seemed to drag; there was a feeling
of restraint between the three younger members of the party which the
Squire, who was overflowing with good-humoured happiness, failed to
notice. He talked freely and well, and Ulick was glad of it. From time
to time he glanced at Warren and thought--
"If he knew I had met Janet, and seen him in Mrs. Hoffman's house at
Feltham, I wonder what he would do? He knows he has done me an
irreparable injury, and yet it does not seem to trouble him much."
After dinner Warren Courtly said he had letters to write, and asked to
be excused for half an hour.
The Squire went into the reading-room, "Just for a quiet doze," he said,
smiling, and Irene and Ulick were left alone. They went on to the
balcony and sat down. It was a beautiful May evening, much warmer than
usual, and the air was refreshing after the heat of the room.
"You cannot know how the Squire has suffered during your absence," she
said, after a few remarks on various topics. "Do you not think he is
older, I mean has aged very much?"
"Yes," replied Ulick, "and I am very sorry if I have been the cause.
Still, I could not have acted otherwise. I would do it again if
necessary."
She wished to ask him if his father believed in him, knew he had accused
him unjustly, but it was a delicate matter. Still, they were old
friends, and there could be no harm in it.
"Is the Squire satisfied he made a mistake, and he was in the wrong?"
she asked.
"Yes, I have that satisfaction, although I cannot return to Hazelwell at
present."
"Not return!" she exclaimed, in surprise. "What reason can there
possibly be for that?"
"A grave reason which I cannot explain to you, but which my father
accepts, although he fails to understand; may I ask you to do the same?"
"Indeed, yes; but I am very, very sorry you are not coming home," she
said.
"I am glad to hear you say that," he replied, earnestly, "because I
value your good opinion very much, almost as much, if not quite, as my
father's."
"You have always had my good opinion," she said, softly.
"Then you never believed me guilty?" he asked, eagerly.
She hesitated; she had at one time thought he might have become
entangled with Janet. She would not deny it now.
"You must forgive me, Ulick," she said. "Remember, I heard the story
from the Squire, and I had no opportunity of hearing your side. What
else could I do? I confess I thought as he thought, but I no longer do
so now you are reconciled."
"You thought me capable of stealing Janet Todd from her father, from
Eli, who would have willingly done anything for me?" he said,
reproachfully.
"Not that; no, not that," she replied. "I never gave that a thought."
"You did not believe Janet went away with me?"
"No, I was sure she did not."
He looked surprised, she spoke so certainly.
"Why were you sure?"
"Because Eli told me you left the house alone, when Janet was in her
room."
"How did he know, he left us alone together when he went out?"
"He was sure of it, and I believed what he told me," she said.
Ulick thought Eli must know more about Janet's disappearance than he
cared to tell. He did not know where she was, but it was quite possible
he knew with whom she ran away.
"He spoke the truth," said Ulick. "I did not injure Janet in any way,
nor did she leave home with me."
"I wonder who she went with?" said Irene. "Have you any idea?"
"How can I possibly know?" he said, evasively.
"No, of course not," she replied. "But I cannot understand why you will
not come back to Hazelwell."
Warren Courtly joined them. He heard his wife's last remark, and
remarked--
"You can have no reason for remaining away now you and the Squire are
reconciled."
"I have an excellent reason," said Ulick, looking him straight in the
face in a manner that made him feel very uncomfortable.