A HEAD DEFEAT; AN ATTEMPT TO WIN THE CAMBRIDGESHIRE.
_The great trial--the lightweight apportioned by the Admiral--the
heavy commission successfully worked--newspaper reports about the
horse--his short price in the betting--the sudden unaccountable
opposition to him--a young lady discloses the plot--the Jew outwitted,
and obliged to give up the scratching order--standing to win a fortune
to nothing--a very reliable partner._
No, my inquisitive friend, a pair of blue eyes did not occasion the
difficulty; on the contrary, my partner and myself would have been
ruined if a certain young lady had not given information which enabled
me to circumvent the schemes of the enemy, who, I may tell you, was a
Jew. The circumstances caused a sensation at the time, and a number of
the men who overlaid their books in the belief that the horse would
never go to the post would not have "weighed in" for that, to me,
memorable Cambridgeshire, provided we had run first instead of second.
It all came about in this way.
Picture to yourself two men seated, after dinner, in an old-fashioned
hotel of quaint, sleepy Hampshire town. The elder of the two was
my partner, and the other your humble servant. We were anxiously
waiting the arrival of a telegram of the utmost importance to us. If
favourable, an immense fortune was within our grasp.
This message was to contain the weight of a horse for the
Cambridgeshire. In the morning we had roughed up the team, and a
four-year-old had opened our eyes to his merits by simply cantering
away from some good trying tackle. For many years we had vainly striven
to pull off a large race, but mishaps were sure to crop up at the wrong
time. It now depended upon the judgment of Admiral Rous whether we were
going to land the big stake at last.
To pass the time we amused ourselves by writing the horse's probable
weight on slips of paper--which were to be kept folded up till the
telegram came--and betting about them. Instead of arriving at the
hour expected, the message was very late; it had been delayed owing
to a disarrangement of the wires, caused by a thunderstorm. When the
all-important missive did reach us we were more than satisfied. The
four-year-old was weighted at 6st. 7lb. If I mistake not, we drank
long life to the Admiral in an extra bottle of Irroy. Fortune's
wheel was, we thought, about to turn in our favour, and our long
suffering patience was at length to be rewarded. One of us talked
philosophically, as if he had foreseen this splendid chance, and,
shaking his head with an air of wisdom, muttered: "I told you so;
everything comes to the man who waits."
It was, however, a long time to Cambridgeshire day, but that weighty
consideration, the impost, was all right. The horse must now be
carefully looked after, and got to the post fit and well. As regards
the betting, we arranged to secure all the long prices, 100 and 66 to
1, without being suspected, and had an arrangement how much we were
each to stand to win. As may be easily imagined, we had pleasant dreams
that night of gorgeous establishments and endless parcels of Bank of
England notes.
You never knew my partner. All this happened before your time. He
belonged to a good family, and was an excellent boon companion. A
mutual friend first made us known to each other at one of the Newmarket
meetings. He wanted to get a confederate to join him in forming a small
stud; and, after a deal of correspondence it was at length decided to
enter into partnership and try for a large handicap. As most money
could be made over the Cambridgeshire, we selected that race. Our
attempts previous to the trial of Santorin had been, as stated already,
utter failures. When I signed the deed of agreement I did not know
that my partner was in a very embarrassed position in regard to money,
and was in the hands of the Jews. He ought to have explained this to
me. He was a good enough fellow, but he had a serious failing--the
slightest obstacle in his way he was bound to refuse, he would not
face a difficulty. If I had been informed of his circumstances I would
assuredly have steered clear of the entanglement, and there would be no
story to relate to you.
A woman plays a part in this narrative of fact. A member of that sex
usually has something to do with most mundane affairs. My partner was
married, and had several young children. For the purposes of education
a niece lived with the family and acted as governess. It was the niece
who revealed the plot and saved us from ruin.
A charming, refined girl was the niece--Elizabeth Emerson--alas! now
dead. You think I am prejudiced; judge for yourself--her photograph
is before me. As I open the album sad thoughts arise in my mind of
joys departed, of friends and sweethearts estranged or "gone before."
Miss Emerson had a beautifully formed head, resembling that of Clytie,
whose bust I presented to her for her own little sitting-room. Her head
was crowned with a luxuriance of brown hair, wayward locks of which
would persist in straying from their proper position as if they wished
to be caressed; forehead not too high, not that of a strong-minded
woman--only the head of a pretty girl, and partly hidden by the hair as
in the bust mentioned. Her eyes were peculiar--they were so large and
luminous, and had that almond shape so much admired. The nose was not
severely classical, but it was all but straight. The lips were not too
thin, the mouth was exceedingly small, she had the whitest of little
teeth, the tiniest of shell-like ears, and a rose-tint complexion,
betokening health. Need I add that when her feet were visible they were
in keeping with the features of the girl who was at this period just
budding into womanhood, and who, although diminutive in stature, was
magnificently proportioned--a model for a sculptor.
Fond of amusement, she was anything but fast; underlying her careless,
laughing, satirical manner, there existed sound sense, a great respect
for other people's feelings and one of the finest natures man could
wish for in a wife.
But I must proceed with my story. The Cambridgeshire was nigh at hand,
and Santorin had gone on well--had not been sick nor sorry a single
day, the commission had been worked to our entire satisfaction, and
an excellent jockey--now at the head of his profession--retained to
ride the horse. The largeness of the commission, coupled with the
lenient weight began to attract public notice to Santorin. Touts,
amateur and the reverse, arrived to watch his movements and despatch
their reports daily to employers and friends. One of the best judges
on the turf paid our training ground a visit on behalf of the journal
he represented, and wrote thus about the horse:--"Santorin is a brown
horse, with black points, standing quite 15 hands 3 inches high, with
splendid fore-quarters, and in galloping he places his hind legs well
under him, showing all that hare-like action so admirably adapted to
get him up the somewhat severe Cambridgeshire hill. No exception can
be taken to his sire or dam--a combination of endurance and speed. At
the weight he is a very dangerous competitor, and if I couple him with
Hymet and Keffesia, I think I have named the winner."
The horse soon made a noise in the betting, and when the Cesarewitch
was decided as little as 8 to 1 was taken about him.
Our commission averaged 40 to 1, and we stood to win between us nearly
£80,000.
It was within a week of the race, when to my utter astonishment I
received one day innumerable telegrams from friends asking me what
was the matter with Santorin. The messages all contained the same
intelligence, that certain bookmakers at the Wellington Club had been
taking liberties with him and had driven him back to 16 to 1.
This antagonistic movement I could not understand, as a letter from the
trainer had reached me only that morning stating that the horse was in
excellent health, and a telegram would at once have been sent to me if
there had been an accident. I put the movement down to a clique, who
had overlaid and were desirous of making themselves safe.
Next day the horse was brought to his former position in the
quotations, when it was seen from the sporting journals that he had
done his usual work on the previous day, but just before three o'clock
the opposition commenced again with renewed vigour, and this time he
receded to 20 to 1.
At that period my partner and I both lived in the country, but I was
nearest to the place where Santorin was trained. On the following day
I hastened to have a look at the horse, and endeavoured to get some
explanation from the trainer. I saw the horse stripped and witnessed
him gallop, but could find nothing wrong with him, his eyes shining
like diamonds, his coat as bright as satin, and his every step showing
perfect health. The trainer, a most painstaking, trustworthy man, said
the betting was incomprehensible, and he could make nothing of it, but
it had made him extra careful with the lads.
In order to get some clue to this affair, I asked a friend at the club
to send me the names of the men who were operating against the horse,
and was alarmed to find that it was some of the largest bookmakers who
had led the opposition. There was no time to lose, as the day was fast
approaching.
The mystery I determined to solve, and with that view I went, post
haste, to my partner, who, strange to say, had not troubled himself
about the horse's retrogression in the betting. I had not seen him for
a few weeks. When we last parted he seemed in good health and capital
spirits, but he now looked as miserable as a sick dog, and had scarcely
any life in him. In so short a period I never beheld such an alteration
in any man. What is the matter here?--another mystery, I thought. And I
wondered if there was any connection between the opposition at the club
and the great change in my partner!
I related to him everything in connection with the affair, and plied
him with questions, but his invariable answer was, "I cannot make it
out!"
I was anything but satisfied, as his failure to send inquiries about
the horse was suspicious. Going into the garden to get a blow of fresh
air and collect my ideas, I met Miss Emerson, who seemed by her manner
to be expecting me.
"This is very strange about Santorin," she said, at once commencing the
conversation.
"It is unaccountable," I replied. "And what makes it worse, your uncle
is in such a wretched state of health. Not having heard of his illness,
I was greatly surprised at his changed appearance."
"Is not worry sometimes worse than illness?" she continued.
"I have no doubt of it, Miss Emerson," I replied. "But Mr. Marston is
not in any grave difficulty, I hope?"
She made no answer to this, but startled me by asking the following
question:
"Tell me," she said, "would one be justified if, for the purpose of
preventing a great wrong, and upsetting a wicked design, one were to
betray a secret?"
"What do you mean, Miss Emerson? Without learning more, I scarcely know
how to answer you."
"Then come back here in half an hour and I may be able to tell you
something of great importance!" she said, and then ran into the house.
This short conversation stunned me. I wondered whether the mystery
surrounding Santorin would now be cleared up! The suspense, although of
short duration, was exceedingly painful. At last the much-wished-for
figure advanced across the lawn.
"I have consulted my aunt," she said hurriedly, scarcely able to speak
with excitement, "and she agrees with me that you, who have been so
kind to us all, should be instantly informed that there is something
seriously wrong going on in this house, and it affects you as well as
my uncle!"
"Yon don't mean to tell me so, Miss Emerson?" I replied, with some
anxiety.
"It is so," she continued, still somewhat excited. "And from what I
have heard, it is about Santorin!"
"You do surprise and astonish me!" Miss Emerson, I remarked, beginning
to get warm. "But you will, I trust, tell me what you have heard? What
was it? You will surely save me from ruin!"
Miss Emerson hesitated a moment, but seeing how anxious and excited I
was becoming, she resumed:
"Well, Mr.----, my aunt and I have considered the matter over, and have
come to the conclusion that there is a dark plot going on against this
horse, and that it would be only just we should apprise you of it, and
by doing so you would possibly be able to defeat the wicked designs of
these men."
"How shall I convey my gratitude for such kindness, Miss Emerson?" I
said, with emotion.
"There has been a very bad-looking Jewish man coming here very often
latterly, and on the last occasion Mr. Marston and he had a terrible
quarrel; and my aunt becoming greatly alarmed, requested me to go to
the dining-room and see what was the matter. When I got close to the
door I heard this strange-looking man speaking very loud and excitedly,
and exclaiming, in a threatening tone of voice, 'You must give me an
order to scratch the horse or be utterly ruined!'"
"Good heavens!" I exclaimed, "who would have thought of such base
treachery!"
"Yes, and that from your partner!" said the young lady.
"Well, you have done me the greatest service, Miss Emerson," I
gratefully observed, and, taking both her hands in mine, remarked that
time would show how deeply and sincerely I would appreciate it.
A nice partner to be associated with! I here found the true reason
for the opposition given to Santorin. The all-important question now
was, had the order to scratch the horse been given? Unfortunately the
nomination was in my partner's name. Every moment being precious, I
immediately sought Mr. Marston, and taxed him with his duplicity.
When he saw that concealment was of no use, and that I was aware of
everything, he confessed to a very pretty piece of business. A Jew, to
whom he was heavily indebted, had compelled him to sign a letter to
Messrs. Weatherby scratching Santorin!
Now the question arose, how to get out of the dilemma? In the then
state of the market hedging was simply an impossibility. But I was not
going to let the Jew beat us without a struggle, if I could help it. I
wanted to save our Cambridgeshire money, if possible; and although the
Jew had played on the weakness of my partner, I resolved on making some
attempt at getting our money back.
My partner having told me the amount of the bill he owed the Jew, I
now considered the best thing would be to endeavour to settle it, and
finding I could do so, I desired him to telegraph to Abrahams, and
request him to come down to his house the following morning, stating
that a matter of the utmost importance required his presence; and when
he arrived to ask him how much he was going to allow out of the laying
commission? I also desired him to detain the gentleman till my return
at luncheon time, if possible, as I intended in the meantime running up
to London to procure the money.
When I got to town Santorin was quoted at 33 to 1 offered, and there
was nothing about his scratching in the papers. So far good. I saw two
men I could implicitly trust, and I arranged that they should be in
waiting to attend to my telegrams next day.
In the morning I got the money required, and was back again at
Marston's house before luncheon time. The Jew, who had duly arrived,
did not seem at all delighted to see me. He evidently began to think
that things looked queer.
"I have been asking Abrahams how much he is going to stand us out of
his heavy laying commission," said Marston, "but he declares everything
has been grossly mismanaged."
"It's the truth, really," answered the Jew; "a complete muddle. I am
very sorry I took the affair at all, as I am almost certain to lose by
it."
"Perhaps," I said as if in a joke, "you would prefer returning the
scratching order and being paid Mr. Marston's debt."
"Would I not, if I had the chance," replied the Jew, taking the
valuable slip of paper out of his pocket book.
This was exactly what I wanted. It was no good proposing to pay unless
the Jew had the scratching order with him.
"Well, here is your money," I said, handing him the notes with one hand
and taking possession of the order with the other. "We prefer to win
the Cambridgeshire."
You never saw a man look so amazed as that Jew did in all your
life. I went instantly to the window and nodded to a groom who had
had his instructions, and he galloped away with my telegrams. No
entreaty on our part would induce Abrahams to partake of luncheon. An
important engagement in town prevented him. He had come down at great
inconvenience to oblige Mr. Marston, and now he was anxious to get back
to business. Would Mr. Marston send him to the station, a distance of
five miles, in the dog cart? He was anxious to get back to stop the
lay commissioners he had set to work. The dog cart was ordered round,
but a strange thing happened--a wheel came off which delayed the
impatient Abrahams some time. From the unpleasant way he looked at me,
he appeared to think he owed the detention to me. When he did get to
London Santorin was quoted in the evening papers at 6 to 1 taken and
wanted, and it is highly probable that Abrahams went to his home in an
unpleasant frame of mind.
A sporting journal of the next day said, in reference to the previous
afternoon's betting: "There has evidently been nothing the matter with
Santorin, as there was an unlimited commission in the market yesterday
to back him. The training reports speak very favourably of the work he
is doing from day-to-day, and his present condition; and those who,
from some unexplained cause, have been taking liberties with the horse
must be in an uncomfortable position. The getting out will be ruinous."
There is little more to tell--the Jew was outwitted, and has kept aloof
from the turf ever since.
Santorin started for that year's Cambridgeshire at the shortest price
ever known, and as the hedging was so good we stood to win a large
fortune to nothing. It was excessively provoking to get beaten on the
post by a head, by a horse two years older and carrying the same weight.
Thanks to Miss Emerson the difficulty was overcome, and if that young
lady had not caught scarlet fever when attending to her cousins and
died, she might be sitting opposite me now bearing another name, and I
might be leading a more profitable life.
Mr. Marston behaved very badly, and I was justified after the
Cambridgeshire in severing all business connections with such a very
unreliable partner.