A BAD FALL
Gladwyne spent the first few days that followed Lisle's visit in a state
of dread and indecision. He had allowed the Canadian to understand that
he would endeavor to prevent Crestwick's being further victimized, but he
had already failed to induce Batley to abandon the exploitation of the
lad and he had no cause for believing that a second attempt would be more
successful. Moreover, he shrank from making it; the man had shown him
clearly that he would brook no interference.
On the other hand, he was equally afraid of Lisle. This cool, determined
Canadian was not to be trifled with, and he knew or suspected enough
about the tragedy in British Columbia to make him dangerous. It was
certain that a revelation of Batley's speculation would go a very long
way toward establishing the truth of any damaging story Lisle thought fit
to tell. Supposing the two by any chance combined their knowledge--that
he had raised money in anticipation of his cousin's death, and afterward
left him to perish--nothing that he could say would count against the
inference. George had been a healthy man, not much older than Clarence,
when the money was borrowed, and his decease within a limited time had
appeared improbable. Nobody would believe the actual truth that Batley
with characteristic boldness had, in return for what he thought a
sufficient consideration in the shape of an exorbitant interest, taken a
serious risk. The thing would look like a conspiracy between the heir
presumptive and the speculator who lent the money; and in this, for a
bold man, there might have been a loophole for escape, but Gladwyne knew
that he had not the nerve to use the fact against his ally.
Nevertheless, Gladwyne was really guiltless in one respect--he had not
desired his cousin's death; he would have gone back to the rescue had he
not dreaded that he would share George's fate. Lack of courage had been
his bane, and it was so now, for instead of speaking to Batley he
temporized. The man had made no further attempt upon Crestwick, and
Gladwyne decided that until he did so there was no need for him to
interfere. Still, as the next few weeks passed, he was conscious of a
growing dread of the Canadian which, as sometimes happens, became tinged
with hatred. Lisle was the more serious menace, and it was ominous that
he now and then exchanged a word or two with Batley. If the two formed an
offensive alliance, he would be helpless at their hands.
In the meanwhile, Nasmyth has been training his horse for the approaching
meeting and after trying him against one belonging to a neighbor and not
finding it fast enough he had reluctantly fallen back on a chestnut owned
by Gladwyne. The animal possessed a fine speed and some jumping powers.
Its chief fault was a vicious temper; but Gladwyne was seldom troubled by
lack of nerve in the saddle. It was in time of heavy moral strain that he
failed, and he was glad to arrange with Nasmyth for a sharp gallop.
Somewhat to the latter's regret, news of his intentions had spread, and
on the morning of the trial a number of people, including the Marples and
Crestwicks and Millicent, had gathered about the course. It was a dark
day, with a moist air and a low, gray sky. The grass was wet, a strip of
plowing which could not be avoided was soft and heavy, and the ground in
front of several of the jumps was in a far from satisfactory state.
Nasmyth, who kept a very small establishment and had hitherto generally
ridden the horse, walked round part of the course with Lisle.
"It will be heavy going and there's a nasty greasy patch at the biggest
fence," he said. "I'd have waited for a better day only that it's often
wet where they have the meeting, and I want to see what he can do over
ground like this. You'll have to watch him at the jumps."
"He'd do better with you in the saddle," Lisle suggested.
"I'd rather put you up. I'm not going to ride at the meeting; I'm over
the weight they ought to give him and I want to get him used to a
stranger's hands. As it's an outside event of no importance, I haven't
fixed on my man yet."
They walked back toward the starting-point, where Gladwyne was waiting,
with Batley and Crestwick in attendance. As they approached it, Millicent
joined them.
"Are you going to ride to-day?" she asked Lisle.
"Nasmyth insists," was the answer. "I'm afraid I won't do him much
credit."
Gladwyne looked up with a slight frown.
"You won't mind?" Nasmyth asked him. "I'd penalize the horse by nearly a
stone."
"No," replied Gladwyne, shortly; "there's no reason why I should object."
This was true, but he had an unreasoning aversion to facing this
opponent. Of late, the Canadian had caused him trouble at almost every
turn, and it looked as if he could not even indulge in a morning's
amusement without being plagued with him. He was conscious of a most
uncharitable wish that Lisle would come to grief at one of the fences and
break his neck. In many ways, this would be a vast relief.
"Would anybody like to make it a sporting match?" Crestwick asked. "The
bay's my fancy; I'm ready to back it."
Bella tried to catch his eye, but he disregarded this. She, however, saw
Lisle glance at Batley and noticed the latter's smile.
"It isn't worth while betting on trials," Batley declared. "Better wait
until the meeting."
The girl was less astonished than gratified. Gladwyne was surprised and
disconcerted. He had said nothing to Batley about Crestwick, but he had
noticed Lisle's warning glance, and the other's prompt acquiescence
appeared significant. It looked as if the two had joined hands, and that
was what he most dreaded. An almost overpowering rage against the
Canadian possessed him. When he attempted to mount, the chestnut gave him
trouble by backing and plunging; but the bay was quiet and Nasmyth stood
for a few moments by Lisle's stirrup.
"Save him a bit for the second round," he advised. "Another thing, look
out when you come to the big-brushed hurdles, particularly the second
time."
Batley volunteered as starter, and when he got them off satisfactorily
the spectators scattered, one or two to watch the pace across the plowed
land, the others moving toward the stiffest jumps--the course was roughly
circular.
The trial was a new experience to Lisle, and he felt the exhilaration of
it as, remembering his instructions, he strove to hold his mount.
Gladwyne's horse was a length ahead of him, the wind lashed his face, and
the thrill of the race grew keener when he swept over the first fence,
hard upon the flying chestnut's heels. He dropped another length behind
as they crossed the next field and labored over the sticky plowing; then
there was a low fence and ditch, a narrow meadow, and then the hurdles
Nasmyth had mentioned, filling a gap in a tall thorn hedge. They were
wattled with branches which projected a foot or so above them.
It did not look an easy jump and the grass was slippery and soft, but the
chestnut accomplished it cleverly and the bay flew at the hurdles with
every sign of confidence. Then, though Lisle felt the hoofs slide as the
beast took off, they were over and flying faster than ever across a long,
wet field. As they approached the end of the first round, the chestnut
began to drop back; Lisle could let the bay go and he determined to bring
him home the winner. It was his first fast ride in England; and he had,
indeed, seldom urged a horse to its utmost pace--the British Columbian
trails, for the most part, led steeply up or down rugged hillsides, where
speed was out of the question. It was very different on these level
English meadows, though the ground was softer than usual and the fences
were troublesome. He rode with a zest and ardor he had hardly expected to
feel.
He led at the next fence and some of the onlookers shouted encouragement
when, drawing a little farther ahead, he once more reached the sticky
plowed land. Here the bay slowed a little, toiling across the clods, but
a glance over his shoulder showed his opponent still at least two lengths
behind. Gladwyne, however, now roused himself to ride in earnest.
Hitherto he had taken no great interest in the proceedings, but he had
just seen Bella wave her hand to Lisle and then Millicent's applauding
smile. He resented the fact that both should be pleased to see him beaten
by this intrusive stranger. It reawakened his rancor, and the strain of
the last week or two had shaken him rather badly. He was nervous, his
self-control was weak; but he meant to pass his rival.
He was still behind at the next fence, but pressing his horse savagely he
crept up a little as they approached the one really difficult jump; and
as they sped across the narrow meadow Lisle fancied that the bay was
making its last effort. Crestwick was standing near the hurdles, with
Nasmyth moving rapidly toward them not far away and Bella running across
a neighboring field. Crestwick watched Gladwyne intently. The man's face
was strangely eager, considering that all he had been asked to do was to
test the bay's speed, and there was a hardness in his expression that
fixed Crestwick's attention; he wondered the cause of it.
Bella was close to him, when Lisle, riding hard, rushed at the hurdles,
and Jim found it hard to repress a shout as the bay's hoofs slipped and
slid on the treacherous turf. The horse rose, however; there was a heavy
crash; wattled branches and the top bar of the hurdle smashed. Lisle
lurched in his saddle; and then the bay came down in a heap, with the man
beneath him.
It was impossible to doubt that Gladwyne had seen the accident, but the
chestnut rushed straight at the shattered hurdle, teeth bare, nostrils
dilated, head stretched forward, and Crestwick thrilled with horror. The
fallen horse was struggling, rolling upon its rider, just beyond the
fence; but Gladwyne did nothing, except sit ready for the leap. It was
incomprehensible; so was the look in the man's face, which was grimly
set, as the big chestnut rose in a graceful bound.
There was a sickening thud on the other side, a flounder of slipping
hoofs, and the staccato pounding of the gallop broke out again. The
chestnut had come down upon the fallen horse or helpless man, and was
going on, uncontrollable. Crestwick rushed madly at the hedge, and
scrambling through, badly scratched and bareheaded, found Nasmyth trying
to drag Lisle clear of the bay. The Canadian's eyes were half open, but
there was no expression in them; one arm and shoulder looked distorted,
and his face was gray. Half-way across the field Gladwyne was struggling
savagely with the plunging chestnut.
"Get hold!" ordered Nasmyth hoarsely. "Some bones broken, by the look of
him; but he'll have his brains knocked out in another moment."
Crestwick was cruelly kicked as the bay rolled in agony, striking with
its hoofs; but he stuck to his task, and with some difficulty they
dragged Lisle out of danger. When they had accomplished it, Marple came
running up with two or three others and Nasmyth called to him.
"Came in the car, didn't you? Go off for Irvine as hard as you can drive.
Drop somebody at my place to run back with a gun."
Marple swung round and set off across the field, and Crestwick understood
why the gun was wanted when he glanced at the fallen horse. Nasmyth
informed him that nothing could be done until the doctor came, and he
turned away toward where his sister was waiting. His forehead and hands
were torn and he was conscious of a bad ache in his back where a hoof had
struck, but these things scarcely troubled him. He was overwhelmed,
horror-stricken; and the shock of seeing Lisle crushed and senseless was
not the only cause of it. Bella, gasping after her run, with hair shaken
loose about her face, seemed to be suffering from the same sensation that
unnerved him.
"Is he dead?" she asked falteringly.
"No. Badly hurt, I think."
"Ah!" she exclaimed with intense relief. "I was most horribly afraid."
She paused before she resumed: "You were close by the hurdles."
Jim knew she meant that he must have seen what happened, but, shaking as
he was, he looked hard at her, wondering in a half-dazed fashion what
reply he should make. He thought her suspicions were aroused.
"You were some way back; you couldn't have seen anything plainly," he
ventured.
"I was very near--looking back toward them--when they crossed the field
before the jump. You've gone all to pieces. What did you see?"
"I can't talk about it now," Jim broke out. "He's coming back."
Gladwyne had dismounted and was with some difficulty leading the chestnut
toward the hedge. His face was white; he moved with a strong suggestion
of reluctance; and when he reached the spot where Lisle lay he seemed to
have trouble in speaking.
"Is it dangerous?" he asked.
"I can't tell," Nasmyth answered sternly. "Shoulder's smashed; don't know
if that's the worst. Why didn't you pull up the brute or send him at the
hedge to the right?"
"He's hard in the mouth--you know his temper. You couldn't have turned
him."
"I'd have tried, if I'd had to bring him down and break his neck!"
Nasmyth checked himself, for this was not the time for recriminations,
and Millicent, who had been running hard, brushed past them. She did not
stop until she bent over Lisle. Then she turned to Nasmyth with fear in
her strained expression.
"I think he'll get over it," Nasmyth told her. "I won't take the
responsibility of having him moved until the doctor arrives."
"Quite right," agreed Batley, walking up and casting a swift and
searching glance at Gladwyne.
"But you can't let him lie on the wet grass!" Millicent expostulated.
"I'm afraid we must; it's safest," said Batley. "The shock's not so much
to be dreaded with a man of his kind."
He and Nasmyth took charge of the situation, sternly refusing to listen
to all well-meant suggestions, until at last the doctor and Marple came
hurrying across the field. The former hastily examined the injured man
and then looked up at Nasmyth.
"Upper arm gone, close to the shoulder joint," he announced. "Collar-bone
too. I'll give him some brandy. Shout to those fellows with the
stretcher."
He was busy for some time, and in the meanwhile Batley picked up the
flask he had laid down and handed it to Gladwyne.
"Take a good drink and pull yourself together," he said quietly.
At length Lisle was gently lifted on to the stretcher, and as they
carried him away the report of a gun ran out. The onlookers dispersed and
Gladwyne was walking home alone when Millicent overtook him. She was
puzzled by his limp appearance and the expression of his haggard face. It
was only natural that he should keenly feel his responsibility for the
accident, but this did not quite seem to account for the man's condition.
He looked absolutely unnerved, like one who had barely escaped from some
appalling catastrophe.
"You shouldn't take it quite so much to heart," she comforted him. "I
don't think Irvine felt any great uneasiness; and nobody could blame
you."
"You're the only one who has said so," he answered moodily.
"They couldn't; you stole away. Of course, it's a great pity--I'm
distressed--but you must try to be sensible. These accidents happen."
He walked on a while in silence, and then with an effort looked around at
her.
"Millicent," he said, "you're wonderfully generous--the sight of anybody
in trouble stirs you--but I don't feel able to bear your sympathy."
"Then I'll have to offer it to Lisle," she smiled. "But I'll walk with
you to the lodge; and then you had better go in and keep quiet until you
get back your nerve."
When she left Gladwyne she went on to Nasmyth's, where she waited until
the doctor on leaving told her that he was perfectly satisfied with the
prospect for the Canadian's recovery. It would, he said, be merely a
question of lying still for a considerable time. Millicent was conscious
of a relief which puzzled her by its intensity as she heard the news, but
she asked Nasmyth to send somebody to inform Gladwyne.
"I think he's desperately anxious and feeling the thing very badly," she
concluded.
"Then he could have come over to inquire, as you have done," Nasmyth
answered. "In my opinion, he deserves to be uncomfortable."
"Why are you so hard on him?"
The man's face grew grim.
"I've had to help Irvine with Lisle, for one thing. We were satisfied
that his injuries were not caused by the bay rolling on him; he seems to
have escaped from that with a few bad bruises. The worst of the accident
might have been avoided if Clarence had had nerve enough."
"But you couldn't blame him very greatly for losing his head--he had no
warning, scarcely a moment to think. It was so sudden."
"The result's the same," retorted Nasmyth. "Lisle has to pay. But to
please you I'll send Clarence word that Irvine's not anxious about him."