What Happened at Doncaster
The Leger this year was to be run on the 14th September, and while
Lord Silverbridge was amusing himself with the deer at Crummie-Toddie
and at Killancodlem with the more easily pursued young ladies, the
indefatigable Major was hard at work in the stables. This came a
little hard on him. There was the cub-hunting to be looked after,
which made his presence at Runnymede necessary, and then that
"pig-headed fellow, Silverbridge" would not have the horses trained
anywhere but at Newmarket. How was he to be in two places at once?
Yet he was in two places almost at once: cub-hunting in the morning
at Egham and Bagshot, and sitting on the same evening at the
stable-door at Newmarket, with his eyes fixed upon Prime Minister.
Gradually had he and Captain Green come to understand each other, and
though they did at last understand each other, Tifto would talk as
though there were no such correct intelligence;--when for instance he
would abuse Lord Silverbridge for being pig-headed. On such occasions
the Captain's remark would generally be short. "That be blowed!"
he would say, implying that that state of things between the two
partners, in which such complaints might be natural, had now been
brought to an end. But on one occasion, about a week before the race,
he spoke out a little plainer. "What's the use of your going on with
all that before me? It's settled what you've got to do."
"I don't know that anything is settled," said the Major.
"Ain't it? I thought it was. If it ain't you'll find yourself in the
wrong box. You've as straight a tip as a man need wish for, but if
you back out you'll come to grief. Your money's all on the other way
already."
On the Friday before the race Silverbridge dined with Tifto at the
Beargarden. On the next morning they went down to Newmarket to see
the horse get a gallop, and came back the same evening. During all
this time, Tifto was more than ordinarily pleasant to his patron. The
horse and the certainty of the horse's success were the only subjects
mooted. "It isn't what I say," repeated Tifto, "but look at the
betting. You can't get five to four against him. They tell me that
if you want to do anything on the Sunday the pull will be the other
way."
"I stand to lose over £20,000 already," said Silverbridge, almost
frightened by the amount.
"But how much are you on to win?" said Tifto. "I suppose you could
sell your bets for £5,000 down."
"I wish I knew how to do it," said Silverbridge. But this was an
arrangement, which, if made just now, would not suit the Major's
views.
They went to Newmarket, and there they met Captain Green. "Tifto,"
said the young Lord, "I won't have that fellow with us when the horse
is galloping."
"There isn't an honester man, or a man who understands a horse's
paces better in all England," said Tifto.
"I won't have him standing alongside of me on the Heath," said his
Lordship.
"I don't know how I'm to help it."
"If he's there I'll send the horse in;--that's all." Then Tifto
found it best to say a few words to Captain Green. But the Captain
also said a few words to himself. "D---- young fool; he don't know
what he's dropping into." Which assertion, if you lay aside the
unnecessary expletive, was true to the letter. Lord Silverbridge was
a young fool, and did not at all know into what a mess he was being
dropped by the united experience, perspicuity, and energy of the man
whose company on the Heath he had declined.
The horse was quite a "picture to look at." Mr. Pook the trainer
assured his Lordship that for health and condition he had never seen
anything better. "Stout all over," said Mr. Pook, "and not an ounce
of what you may call flesh. And bright! just feel his coat, my Lord!
That's 'ealth,--that is; not dressing, nor yet macassar!"
And then there were various evidences produced of his pace,--how he
had beaten that horse, giving him two pounds; how he had been beaten
by that, but only on a mile course; the Leger distance was just the
thing for Prime Minister; how by a lucky chance that marvellous quick
rat of a thing that had won the Derby had not been entered for the
autumn race; how Coalheaver was known to have had bad feet. "He's a
stout 'orse, no doubt,--is the 'Eaver," said Mr. Pook, "and that's
why the betting-men have stuck to him. But he'll be nowhere on
Wednesday. They're beginning to see it now, my Lord. I wish they
wasn't so sharp-sighted."
In the course of the day, however, they met a gentleman who was of a
different opinion. He said loudly that he looked on the Heaver as the
best three-year-old in England. Of course as matters stood he wasn't
going to back the Heaver at even money;--but he'd take twenty-five
to thirty in hundreds between the two. All this ended in the bet
being accepted and duly booked by Lord Silverbridge. And in this
way Silverbridge added two thousand four hundred pounds to his
responsibilities.
But there was worse than this coming. On the Sunday afternoon he went
down to Doncaster, of course in company with the Major. He was alive
to the necessity of ridding himself of the Major; but it had been
acknowledged that that duty could not be performed till after this
race had been run. As he sat opposite to his friend on their journey
to Doncaster, he thought of this in the train. It should be done
immediately on their return to London after the race. But the horse,
his Prime Minister, was by this time so dear to him that he intended
if possible to keep possession of the animal.
When they reached Doncaster the racing-men were all occupied with
Prime Minister. The horse and Mr. Pook had arrived that day from
Newmarket, via Cambridge and Peterborough. Tifto, Silverbridge,
and Mr. Pook visited him together three times that afternoon and
evening;--and the Captain also visited the horse, though not in
company with Lord Silverbridge. To do Mr. Pook justice, no one could
be more careful. When the Captain came round with the Major, Mr. Pook
was there. But Captain Green did not enter the box,--had no wish to
do so, was of opinion that on such occasions no one whose business
did not carry him there should go near a horse. His only object
seemed to be to compliment Mr. Pook as to his care, skill, and good
fortune.
It was on the Tuesday evening that the chief mischief was done. There
was a club at which many of the racing-men dined, and there Lord
Silverbridge spent his evening. He was the hero of the hour, and
everybody flattered him. It must be acknowledged that his head was
turned. They dined at eight and much wine was drunk. No one was
tipsy, but many were elated; and much confidence in their favourite
animals was imparted to men who had been sufficiently cautious before
dinner. Then cigars and soda-and-brandy became common and our young
friend was not more abstemious than others. Large sums were named,
and at last in three successive bets Lord Silverbridge backed his
horse for more than forty thousand pounds. As he was making the
second bet Mr. Lupton came across to him and begged him to hold his
hand. "It will be a nasty sum for you to lose, and winning it will be
nothing to you," he said. Silverbridge took it good-humouredly, but
said that he knew what he was about. "These men will pay," whispered
Lupton; "but you can't be quite sure what they're at." The young
man's brow was covered with perspiration. He was smoking quick and
had already smoked more than was good for him. "All right," he said.
"I'll mind what I'm about." Mr. Lupton could do no more, and retired.
Before the night was over bets had been booked to the amount stated,
and the Duke's son, who had promised that he would never plunge,
stood to lose about seventy thousand pounds upon the race.
While this was going on Tifto sat not far from his patron, but
completely silent. During the day and early in the evening a few
sparks of the glory which scintillated from the favourite horse flew
in his direction. But he was on this occasion unlike himself, and
though the horse was to be run in his name had very little to say in
the matter. Not a boast came out of his mouth during dinner or after
dinner. He was so moody that his partner, who was generally anxious
to keep him quiet, more than once endeavoured to encourage him. But
he was unable to rouse himself. It was still within his power to run
straight; to be on the square, if not with Captain Green, at any rate
with Lord Silverbridge. But to do so he must make a clean breast
with his Lordship and confess the intended sin. As he heard all that
was being done, his conscience troubled him sorely. With pitch of
this sort he had never soiled himself before. He was to have three
thousand pounds from Green, and then there would be the bets he
himself had laid against the horse,--by Green's assistance! It would
be the making of him. Of what use had been all his "square" work to
him? And then Silverbridge had behaved so badly to him! But still, as
he sat there during the evening, he would have given a hand to have
been free from the attempt. He had had no conception before that he
could become subject to such misery from such a cause. He would make
it straight with Silverbridge this very night,--but that Silverbridge
was ever lighting fresh cigars and ever having his glass refilled. It
was clear to him that on this night Silverbridge could not be made
to understand anything about it. And the deed in which he himself
was to be the chief actor was to be done very early in the following
morning. At last he slunk away to bed.
On the following morning, the morning of the day on which the race
was to be run, the Major tapped at his patron's door about seven
o'clock. Of course there was no answer, though the knock was
repeated. When young men overnight drink as much brandy-and-water
as Silverbridge had done, and smoke as many cigars, they are apt
not to hear knocks at their door made at seven o'clock. Nor was his
Lordship's servant up,--so that Tifto had no means of getting at him
except by personal invasion of the sanctity of his bedroom. But there
was no time, not a minute, to be lost. Now, within this minute that
was pressing on him, Tifto must choose his course. He opened the door
and was standing at the young man's head.
"What the d---- does this mean?" said his Lordship angrily, as soon
as his visitor had succeeded in waking him. Tifto muttered something
about the horse which Silverbridge failed to understand. The young
man's condition was by no means pleasant. His mouth was furred by the
fumes of tobacco. His head was aching. He was heavy with sleep, and
this intrusion seemed to him to be a final indignity offered to him
by the man whom he now hated. "What business have you to come in
here?" he said, leaning on his elbow. "I don't care a straw for the
horse. If you have anything to say send my servant. Get out!"
"Oh;--very well," said Tifto;--and Tifto got out.
It was about an hour afterwards that Tifto returned, and on this
occasion a groom from the stables, and the young Lord's own servant,
and two or three other men were with him. Tifto had been made to
understand that the news now to be communicated, must be communicated
by himself, whether his Lordship were angry or not. Indeed, after
what had been done his Lordship's anger was not of much moment. In
his present visit he was only carrying out the pleasant little plan
which had been arranged for him by Captain Green. "What the mischief
is up?" said Silverbridge, rising in his bed.
Then Tifto told his story, sullenly, doggedly, but still in a
perspicuous manner, and with words which admitted of no doubt. But
before he told the story he had excluded all but himself and the
groom. He and the groom had taken the horse out of the stable,
it being the animal's nature to eat his corn better after slight
exercise, and while doing so a nail had been picked up.
"Is it much?" asked Silverbridge, jumping still higher in his bed.
Then he was told that it was very much,--that the iron had driven
itself into the horse's frog, and that there was actually no
possibility that the horse should run on that day.
"He can't walk, my Lord," said the groom, in that authoritative voice
which grooms use when they desire to have their own way, and to
make their masters understand that they at any rate are not to have
theirs.
"Where is Pook?" asked Silverbridge. But Mr. Pook was also still in
bed.
It was soon known to Lord Silverbridge as a fact that in very truth
the horse could not run. Then sick with headache, with a stomach
suffering unutterable things, he had, as he dressed himself, to
think of his seventy thousand pounds. Of course the money would be
forthcoming. But how would his father look at him? How would it be
between him and his father now? After such a misfortune how would he
be able to break that other matter to the Duke, and say that he had
changed his mind about his marriage,--that he was going to abandon
Lady Mabel Grex, and give his hand and a future Duchess's coronet to
an American girl whose grandfather had been a porter?
A nail in his foot! Well! He had heard of such things before. He knew
that such accidents had happened. What an ass must he have been to
risk such a sum on the well-being and safety of an animal who might
any day pick up a nail in his foot? Then he thought of the caution
which Lupton had given him. What good would the money have done him
had he won it? What more could he have than he now enjoyed? But to
lose such a sum of money! With all his advantages of wealth he felt
himself to be as forlorn and wretched as though he had nothing left
in the world before him.