ROGUES IN COUNCIL
Raffle strode sturdily along, refusing to say another word. What
deep-laid schemes the old man had in his mind Fielden could only faintly
guess. At any rate it was good to know that Raffle was satisfied, and
that some careful plan was afoot with a view to Copley's discomfiture.
"Perhaps you are wise to keep your own counsel," Fielden said. "But I've
learnt something this morning, too, Raffle. There is somebody in the
stable who is disclosing secrets, and the sooner you know it the
better."
"I know it already," Raffle grinned. "It is all part of the scheme. They
have got hold of one of the boys, and I am watching him carefully. I let
him take away just as much information as I like. Don't you worry about
me, Mr. Harry. I haven't been at this game for fifty years without
learning a thing or two. I have always made it a rule to go straight
myself, but that is no reason why I should keep my eyes closed to the
doings of other people."
"Quite right," Fielden said approvingly. "But what do you know about
Mr. Copley? He is a stranger in these parts."
"That may be, sir, but he is no stranger to me. I never forget a face,
and I've been on every racecourse in the country during the last five
and twenty years. The first time I saw Mr. Copley, he was being shown
round the stables by Sir George. I didn't like him, and I didn't like
his manner, and thinks I to myself, 'I wonder where I've seen _you_
before?' Suddenly there flashes into my mind a little incident that
happened at Lincoln. I can see it as plain as I can see this book in my
hand. And then I knew that Mr. Copley, the African millionaire, was one
and the same with the welsher that I had seen half killed at Lincoln a
good many years ago. Well, it wasn't for me to say anything about it,
because I can find you a score of men to-day, rich and prosperous men,
who started life amongst the scum of the racecourse. I have been making
a few inquiries amongst my old pals, and it is just as I expected. Mr.
Copley may be a rich man now, but he is just as big a scamp as ever he
was, and Sir George ought to know it. I tell you, Mr. Harry, it fairly
makes my blood boil to see that blackguard swaggering about here and
hanging around Miss May as if she belonged to him. It fair spoils my
enjoyment and my food, it does. But you see how difficult it is for a
man in my position to interfere. But your case is different."
Fielden shook his head sadly. His case was very different indeed. More
and more bitterly did he blame himself for the heedless, senseless folly
which had brought him to his present pitch. How changed things might
have been if he had only shown ordinary prudence! What would he gain if
he went to Sir George with these vague stories about Copley? He could
not doubt but that Sir George was deeply in Copley's debt, and that
Copley had brought this about so that, when the time came, he could
force May to marry him. These painful thoughts were uppermost in his
mind as he strode back to the house. He could not shake them off, though
May rallied him on his quietness and offered him the proverbial penny
for his thoughts.
"I know what is the matter," she said gaily. "You are fretting because
you have nothing to do. But that won't be for long. Do you know that we
are dining with Mr. Copley to-night, and that you have been included in
the invitation? Mr. Copley telephoned from London this morning, and you
were especially mentioned by name. I am sure if I put in a word for you
the post will be as good as yours. Before long you will be occupying an
important place in the racing world, and the rest is in your own hands.
You have the consolation, too, of knowing that no one has recognized
you."
It was on the tip of Fielden's tongue to refuse. It was repugnant to his
instincts to take service with a man like Copley. Yet, on the other
hand, it was fair enough to fight this fellow with his own weapons.
Through him Fielden had lost the chance of his lifetime. But for him and
his rascally associates, Fielden and Phillips would have been rich men
to-day. Moreover, if something were not done speedily, a fate which was
worse than death awaited May Haredale. To turn his back upon a chance
like this would be to precipitate the very calamity which he was most
anxious to avert. Copley was the type of strong man who always gets his
way. He was not the least scrupulous as to his methods, and Sir George
Haredale was bound to him hand and foot. It would be far better to seize
this coign of vantage, especially as Copley had not the smallest idea of
the bitter enemy he was maintaining under his roof.
Meanwhile, Copley and his friend Foster had returned from town. They
reached Copley's establishment, Seton Manor, just before dark. They had
not lost any time. Apparently they had done their work fairly well, for,
according to the late evening papers, the Blenheim colt had receded
steadily in the betting. People were asking themselves what had
happened. Most of the public knew and respected Sir George Haredale. Not
the faintest shadow rested on his reputation, and this fact had had
somewhat of a steady effect on the market. But though a certain division
had rushed in at these improved prices to back their fancy, there
seemed to be an unlimited amount of money ready to be laid against the
horse. At any rate, Copley was fairly satisfied. He had invested several
thousand pounds against the Blenheim colt, which, in his opinion, was
already as good as out of the running altogether.
He came into what he called his library just before dinner and found
Foster awaiting him. Both were in evening dress, both exceedingly shiny
and glossy, and both carried more jewellery than was in accordance with
good taste. The guests were not expected for half an hour, so Copley
helped himself liberally to brandy and soda and lighted a fresh
cigarette.
"Any letters?" he asked.
"Nothing of importance," Foster replied. "When I left you this morning I
went round to see if I could see anything of Phillips. He wasn't at his
lodgings, and they said he wasn't expected back till to-morrow. Now what
are you going to do about that chap?"
"Oh, let him go to the devil!" Copley growled.
"My dear Copley, why do you always talk like that? Why do you think that
every man is a fool except yourself? You appear to be very prosperous.
Nobody can deny your courage. And because you are not afraid of Phillips
you seem to think he isn't dangerous. I think he is. Suppose he goes to
Scotland Yard and lays his information before the people there, and
suppose they communicate with the authorities in Cape Town, the result
will be an application for your arrest, and once you get out there you
know what will happen. It will be all U.P."
"Thinking about your own skin," Copley sneered.
"Well, and what if I am? I haven't got a sanguine temperament like
yours. Of course, we could buy Phillips off; at least we could buy him
off for the time being and keep his mouth shut till we devised some plan
for getting rid of him altogether. But he is a cunning devil, is Aaron
Phillips, and has learnt how to profit by past experience. It is no use
asking him to come to your hotel. He isn't going to walk into a trap
like that, and he isn't going to wait much longer, either. If we could
give him a thousand pounds just to go on with, why----"
"A thousand devils," Copley exclaimed furiously. "Where am I going to
get a thousand pounds? I mean, where am I going to get it just at this
moment? I've got this place here, which isn't paid for. I managed to get
the bank to advance the money till I could complete the purchase, and
the furnishing was an easy matter. One can get as much credit as one
likes in this country, provided one winks at extortionate charges. As I
will never pay for the stuff at all, the West End tradesmen can charge
what they please. But the fact remains that though people are tumbling
over one another to get my custom I am fairly at my wits' end for ready
cash. Of course, it will be all right when the flat season begins in
earnest. With any luck there'll be a hatful of money to share between
us before the October meeting at Newmarket. We ought to make over a
thousand pounds at Mirst Park on Saturday week. I suppose you've got it
all ready. Got the telephone in place? The worst of this game is that
one has to take so many people into one's confidence."
"That's all right," Foster explained. "Everything is in its place now. I
went down to Mirst Park the day before yesterday. The house is finished
and all the workmen have gone. The telephone is in good order, because I
tried it. The man who fixed up the extension from the hall to the roof
was a bit curious, but I managed to put him off the scent by some lie
about the doctor's orders and a patient who had been recommended to try
outdoor treatment. But we ought to have a mechanic of our own, Copley.
If any hint of our little secret leaked out, the man who fixed that
extended telephone would be certain to see it, and naturally he would
ask himself a question or two. The fewer outsiders we have to deal with
the better."
"There's no doubt of that," Copley agreed. "Then there's nothing to
settle now. Did you rehearse the bit in Covent Garden?"
"Oh, yes. I was in the office we have taken next door to the Post Club,
and went through the whole thing with Radley, who was stationed outside.
There wasn't a hitch anywhere. I don't see why we shouldn't clear a
thousand pounds; indeed, we might make a great deal more. But perhaps it
would be just as well to be on the safe side. It would be a fatal
mistake to arouse the suspicions of the bookmakers at the beginning, and
if this scheme breaks down we've got another one."
Copley smiled as he finished his brandy and soda. He threw the end of
his cigarette into the grate as the door bell rang.
"Come along," he said. "Here are our guests. Let us go into the
drawing-room and wait for them. We must assume respectability even if we
have it not."