LOOSENING THE GRIP
Fielden's last thrust went home. Sir George fairly winced and the red of
shame flushed his face. Never in the course of his life had anybody ever
spoken to him like this before. And never did he feel less able to
resist the reproach.
"You are going too far," was all he could say.
"Indeed, I have no wish to," Fielden exclaimed. "I only want to save you
from this crowning folly, and you need not be afraid of Copley. He is
powerless to do you any mischief. Of course, you will still owe the
money to somebody, but ere the law can make up its mind who is your
creditor, if we have any luck at Epsom, you will be independent of all
your creditors. Nobody need know of this. You may rest assured that not
a word of it will ever pass my lips, and not even May shall be told."
"I am afraid she knows already," Sir George rejoined. "It is useless, my
dear boy, for me to combat your statements farther. I thought I was an
honest English gentleman, and now I find that at a turn of the screw I
am only a pitiful scoundrel. I fear that May has found out all about it.
I was anxious she should marry Copley, for salvation seemed to lie that
way, and I was under great obligations to the man. I was so annoyed with
May that I said more than I should have done; indeed, I lost my temper
and, in the heat of the moment, told her that if she did not obey me in
this matter she was no longer a daughter of mine. Of course, I did not
mean it."
Fielden walked to the window and back before he ventured on a reply. Hot
words hovered on his lips and anger filled his heart, but he tried to
speak calmly.
"That, to say the least of it, was indiscreet," he said. "If I know May,
and I think I do, she is the last girl in the world to put up with
treatment like that."
"She didn't put up with it," Sir George confessed miserably. "She has
gone, taking with her nothing but her mother's jewels which she intends
to turn into money. In her letter to me she refuses to say where she is.
She says she is going to get her own living and will never come back to
Haredale. She must know what took place between Copley and me last
night, for she alludes to something she overheard in the library. I
wonder if you can help me?"
Fielden groaned aloud. He had not expected a bitter disappointment like
this. He was anxious to avoid scandal. Of course, the public would have
to hear the strange story which, like a romance, clothed the Blenheim
colt. But there was nothing in that to be ashamed of, nothing which
would reflect on the honour either of Sir George or himself. Nor would
the vast army of race-goers suffer. But the disappearance of May had
altered all that. People would ask questions and neighbours were sure to
talk. For the moment it seemed as if Fielden's efforts had been wasted,
then an inspiration shot into his mind and he took comfort from it.
"I think I know where to find her," he said. "But it may take me a few
days and, meanwhile, you had better let it be known that May has gone
away on a visit. We will assume that she is staying with Miss Carden for
the present. I need not detain you longer. You will know what to do when
Copley turns up to ascertain why the Blenheim colt has not been
scratched. For obvious reasons we won't make the discovery public just
yet; in fact, I see no reason why it should be made public at all. We
can trust May, and I am sure we can trust Raffle, though you will have
to tell Copley the truth. Still, as he will be in other hands before
long, nothing he can say or do will matter much. I am going up to London
and shall be greatly surprised if, when I come back, I don't bring you
news of May."
Fielden took his departure, leaving Sir George to his own troubled
thoughts. He was properly ashamed of himself. He knew what a humiliating
figure he had cut. He knew how two people, whose opinions he valued
highly, despised him. Yet, in spite of everything, himself included, he
was glad to know that he would be compelled to keep faith with the
public. He was glad to know that within a few days Copley would have no
further power to harm him. He had known all along, juggle with his
conscience as he might, that old Raffle had been perfectly correct in
regard to the colt. Notwithstanding the folly of that appearance at
Mirst Park, the colt was not so lame as he had made out and in a week or
two would be all right again. At the present moment if he risked a
thousand or two, there was almost absolute certainty he would get it
back fifty-fold at the great Epsom meeting. As Sir George pondered the
situation, his mind was equally divided between shame and exultation. He
did not fail to see his conduct in its proper light, nor did he fail to
see an honourable way out, with credit to himself and a good many
thousands in his pocket. He sat thinking until it was time for his
solitary dinner. He had proved everything to his satisfaction before he
returned to the library for a cigar. He would have given anything to
have had May back again, for once she was under his roof, the way looked
perfectly clear. He was still weighing the pros and cons when Copley
strode angrily into the library.
He had entered unannounced and looked at Sir George with the light of
battle in his eye. He stood an imposing, bullying figure. But the master
of the house was not afraid.
"What is the meaning of this?" Copley demanded. "I hope you are not
trying to shirk your obligations, because if you do, by gad, I shall
have to teach you a lesson."
"You mean about the colt?" Sir George asked.
"What else could I mean? You promised he should be scratched this
afternoon. It hadn't been done when I left London at six o'clock. Why?"
"Sit down and have a cigar," Sir George said, "and I'll explain to you.
But don't adopt that tone to me, because I don't like it. I am not
accustomed to it."
Copley burst into an offensive laugh.
"Oh, aren't you?" he said. "We'll precious soon see about that. No, I
don't want a cigar or anything to drink. I'll go home again and perhaps
I can find another way----"
"I don't think it will make much difference," Sir George said mildly. "I
didn't scratch the colt for the simple reason that I find I haven't the
power."
"Haven't the power? What are you talking about?"
"I assure you I am speaking the truth. I wasn't in the least aware of it
myself till this afternoon. It is quite a story in its way. Now do,
please, sit down and listen. The man you know as Field is the son of an
old friend of mine named Fielden, who at one time owned a considerable
amount of property hereabouts. You may have heard some of the neighbours
speak of him. The son preferred not to be known by his proper name, and
that is why I introduced him to you as Field. Now Field, or Fielden,
whichever you like to call him, is really the owner of the Blenheim
colt. If you will be quiet I will tell you all about it. By the way,
Fielden knows a good deal about you and also about your friend Foster.
He ran against you in South Africa where he was in partnership with a
man called Aaron Phillips. I don't know Mr. Phillips myself, but he
tells a story which interested me very much. I have just had it from Mr.
Fielden's lips. But sit down."
Copley sat down suddenly. His bullying air fell away from him like a
garment. He seemed to have some difficulty in getting a light to his
cigar. Sir George could almost have smiled as he saw the change in his
one-time friend. There was a look of anxiety, almost of anxious misery,
in Copley's eyes as he wriggled about in his chair whilst Sir George
told his tale.
"There you have it in a nutshell," the latter concluded. "That is the
whole romance for you to deal with as you like. It doesn't matter a bit
whether I want to serve you or not, you can see for yourself the
position I am in and how powerless I am to prevent the Blenheim colt
from running in this year's Derby. Mr. Fielden would not consent, even
if he hadn't backed the colt to his last penny. You may depend upon it
that if the horse starts he is bound to win, for in this year's moderate
lot there is nothing to beat him. This upsets all your plans, but you
will find that everything I say is correct. You have still time to get
out."
"How can I?" Copley asked. "Why, I have laid against the colt till I am
tired of it, and if he runs he'll win. But it is no use my sitting here
wasting time. I must go back at once and talk this thing over with
Foster. I never heard such an extraordinary story in my life. I thought
I was up to most of the moves, but a prophet couldn't have foreseen
this. One thing is very certain, as matters have turned out I shall want
every penny I can scrape together the next few days and I shall look to
you to repay what you owe me. Of course, I don't want to be unpleasant,
but necessity knows no law."
Sir George waved his cigar gracefully. He felt he could promise with an
easy mind.
"Don't let that trouble you," he said. "I think I shall be able to
manage. Circumstances alter cases. Must you really go?"