Hard Pressed Part 7

"I was sure," May whispered.

"But what are we to do? It would be another matter, I suppose, if it were three months later and the Blenheim colt had won the Derby. Then, perhaps, Sir George would forgive me and make the best of it for your sake. As it is, I have only succeeded in complicating matters. You are resolved, of course, that nothing will induce you to change your mind so far as Copley is concerned. But will you have strength enough to do it, May? I don't think you realize the pressure which would be put upon you when you find that Haredale Park will have to go, when you find yourself in lodgings----"

"Never," May cried pa.s.sionately. "I refuse even to discuss it. The idea is unthinkable."

Fielden pressed the point no longer. He really had not the heart to do so. Sufficient unto the day was the evil thereof. But it was with mixed feelings that an hour or so later he walked across the fields to Seton Manor. Copley was waiting to receive him. The latter was in his hardest and most businesslike mood. There was something repellent about the expression of his face. The library reeked strongly of tobacco and spirits. From the ruddy tinge on Copley's face he had partaken of more than one brandy and soda already.

Fielden hoped there was nothing in the expression of his face which in any way betrayed his thoughts. Fancy a man like this married to a girl like May Haredale! Copley was braggart and bully to his finger-tips--a man without heart, or conscience, or feeling. Nay, he was worse than this, as Fielden very well knew. For the moment, it was on the tip of Harry's tongue to say he had thought the matter over and had decided to decline Copley's offer. But more prudent thoughts prevailed. It would be as well to be as near Copley as possible, to be on the spot, to act when disaster threatened. Besides, Fielden, to some extent, was in league with Aaron Phillips, and if there was anything in the way of rascality afoot, it might be possible to detect it. It would be a fine thing to go to Copley with the evidence of his rascality in plain black and white, and agree to silence on the condition that this persecution of Miss Haredale ceased.

"Ah! you have come," Copley said in his blunt way. "Well, I have arranged everything for you. I want you to take over the entire management of my stable. The last man had four hundred a year and the run of the house, and I am prepared to offer you the same terms.

Everything will be left in your hands. As I told you last night, my racing stable is only a side-show, and I don't want to be bothered with it. You can make a start next week at Mirst Park. I have horses running in races both days, and I shall probably run down myself. But you know the ropes well enough."

"I think you can leave it to me," Fielden remarked.

"Very well, then, that's settled. You can ask the housekeeper to give you a room. You can have all the meals you want, and the horses will be yours to handle as you like. I must wish you good morning, for I have a score of things to occupy my attention before I motor to town at six o'clock. I think that will do. Good day."

Fielden took his leave, hardly knowing whether to be pleased or not. He spent the next hour or so in the stables, interviewing the stud groom and the helpers, who seemed to know all about the new arrangement. He said little or nothing about it, but was somewhat surprised to find what a poor set of horses Copley owned. For the most part they were little better than platers. There might be a racer or two amongst them, but only for small meetings. The groom was quite open in his comments, and to these Fielden listened discreetly. He was free, presently, to go over to Haredale Park and get his belongings together. He strode across the Downs and pa.s.sed the wide stretch of turf where the trial of the Blenheim colt had taken place. He was hurrying down the slope when he came face to face with Aaron Phillips.

"I was looking for you," the latter said. "I haven't been letting the gra.s.s grow under my feet since we met last. I am beginning to get a hold of the game. We shall be able to make those fellows sit up before long.

I suppose you couldn't manage to get away on Friday and Sat.u.r.day next for the two days' racing at Mirst Park? If you can, I shall show you something that will open your eyes."

"As it happens," Fielden explained, "I am going there. I have just been appointed a kind of general manager to Mr. Copley. I have to thank Sir George Haredale for this. As you can imagine, Phillips, it is not a congenial occupation. But there are urgent reasons why I ought to accept it. We have a horse or two entered for the Mirst Park meeting, and I shall go with them. Now, then, what is it?"

Aaron Phillips' face lightened.

"What a stroke of luck!" he exclaimed. "In that case, I need not detain you now. But I'll contrive to see you on the course, and then I think it will be our turn."

CHAPTER XII

A LION IN THE PATH

Copley did not appear to be so busy as he had professed when he dismissed Fielden so unceremoniously. He lighted a fresh cigar and sat down moodily over a ma.s.s of accounts. He pushed these aside presently, and took up a copy of the _Sportsman_, which he proceeded to read with a perplexed frown on his moody face.

"I cannot for the life of me understand it," he muttered. "The trial was fair and square, and I see no reason why the boy's information was not to be relied upon. But that colt is more firmly established in the betting than ever. I can't recollect anything like it. It seemed a dead sure thing to lay that money against the horse. And, yet, though I laid over ten thousand pounds against him, in this morning's paper he is at a shorter price than before. Well, if the public like to be such fools, it's their look-out, not mine. Still, it's unpleasant. I wonder if Foster has learnt anything this morning."

Foster came in a moment or two later. His usual smile had deserted him, and he looked troubled and anxious.

"I wanted to see you," said Copley. "I can't for the life of me understand this betting. Here's the Blenheim colt backed for a ton of money again. Why, in the face of the commission we have put on the market, he ought to be fairly knocked out."

"Oh, I've seen it," Foster replied. "I've sent for the boy. I wonder if that young rascal played us false. But, no, I don't think he would dare do that. Besides, he stands to win a pot of money himself. At any rate, I have sent for him, and if there was anything about the trial that was not fair we shall know it in half an hour."

For the next hour or so the two conspirators sat discussing the matter.

Then there came to them a diminutive youth, shrunken and clean-shaven, with the air of one who has pa.s.sed all his life in the atmosphere of a stable. His little wizened face was white with agitation, and he stood, with his eyes cast to the ground, waiting for Copley to speak.

"What is it?" the latter asked roughly.

"I don't know, sir," the boy said humbly. "I don't know how it was done.

Ah, that there Raffle is a deep 'un. I made sure as the trial the other morning was all open and above board, and now I find as how it wasn't the Blenheim colt we saw at all. It is no use asking me to explain, gentlemen, and it is no use bullying me, for the more you do that the more muddled I get. It is only a word or two I 'eard between Raffle and the 'ead lad that put me on the scent. We've got two or three 'osses in the stable as like the Blenheim colt as two peas. They are nearly all the same blood, you know. What old Raffle is a-driving at, I dunno. But it looks as if one colt was changed for another at the last moment, and n.o.body would have been any the wiser if I hadn't 'eard that little conversation this blessed morning."

Copley and Foster exchanged glances. It was no use to scarify the boy, for the conspiracy was none of his making, and he was obviously telling the truth; indeed, he had been well paid to bring information to Copley and had nothing to gain by further deception. But what was the meaning of it all? Why had Raffle chosen to bring off a mock trial? So far as Copley knew, Raffle had no reason to suspect the honesty of the stable boy. He could not know that he was in Copley's pay, nor could he have known, either, that Copley and Foster would witness that early morning trial. Could it be that there was some one else in the field whom Raffle wished to deceive? At any rate, whether that was so or not, Joe Raffle had put both Copley and his accomplice in a hole. After witnessing the trial they had laid against the colt to an enormous amount, and, after all, Sir George Haredale's horse might win the Derby. They dismissed the boy with strict injunctions to keep his eyes open and let them know the latest developments. Then they talked the matter over to see if they could find some way out of the trouble.

"It's a bit of a facer," Copley muttered. "I am bound to confess I never expected anything like this. I wonder what that old fox Raffle was driving at? Whom is he trying to deceive? I'd give something to know."

"What does it matter?" Foster asked impatiently. "Wilfully or not, he has deceived us. As I figure it out, we stand to lose something like five thousand pounds. If that horse starts fit and well for the Derby we shall be in a rare mess. And there's nothing to beat the colt. It would be maddening to be done at the beginning of the season. Fancy having to upset all our plans because of a misfortune like this!"

"Unless we could stop the colt," Copley suggested.

Foster looked keenly across the table at his companion.

"That's not a bad idea," he said thoughtfully. "If the Blenheim colt lost the Derby we should win ten thousand pounds at least. At the price the horse stands in the betting to-day, we could lay another twenty thousand pounds without knocking him altogether out of the betting. I don't call to mind a case in which the public have been more infatuated about a horse. Why, our commission never shook him at all. Suppose, without anybody knowing it, we could guarantee that the horse didn't start. In that case, we could lay a hundred thousand pounds against him, with the absolute knowledge that it would be only a question of time before we scooped up the money. Our Mirst Park scheme is a mere fleabite to it."

Copley's sombre eyes lighted a little.

"Yes, if we could only do it," he sneered. "But the age for that game is past. There is no chance of hocussing a horse, or laming him, or bribing a stable boy, or squaring a jockey. That was all very well in the old days, when meetings were few and far between, and we hadn't got an enlightened Press that watches everything as a cat watches a mouse. It's no use wasting time over idle dreams of that sort, Foster. Poor as he is, Sir George wouldn't even hear of such a thing."

"Think not?" Foster asked. "Well, I believe myself that every man has his price. I have never found anything to the contrary. I thought you were a fool to come down here at all. I thought you were a fool to allow yourself to be fascinated by that girl, but now I begin to see a way of turning it to account. I don't suppose she'll marry you. I never thought she would."

The big veins on Copley's temples thickened.

"Stow that," he said hoa.r.s.ely. "You are going too far. I'll not listen to a word of it. It is no business of yours. If you have anything good to suggest, I shall be glad to listen to it, but I'll thank you to leave Miss Haredale's name out of the discussion."

"Oh, very well," Foster said sulkily. "But, in this case, one thing leads to another. To gain Miss Haredale you found money for her father when we could have done with it ourselves--indeed, we wanted it pretty badly. Now is your chance to get it back, and more. Sir George can't pay you. He could as easily repay a million. He will find, too, that it is impossible to coerce Miss Haredale into marrying you. Don't get wild. I don't want to introduce the young lady's name more than I can help, but I am bound to speak of her. You will find that she will hold out to the end, and that, if need be, she won't object to leaving Haredale Park.

But Sir George will cut up rough when the time comes. He is chockful of family pride. He is the sort of chap who is wedded to the family home, and when the pinch comes you'll find him ready for anything. Of course, he will make a fuss. He will ask you how you dare suggest such a thing to him, but it will come right in the end."

Copley glanced contemptuously at the speaker.

"What are you talking about?" he exclaimed. "What are you driving at?

Do you take Sir George for an utter fool? Do you suppose that he is likely to scratch a horse he has backed to win or lose everything he has?"

"Well, why not? He backed the colt at a very long price, and I don't suppose he has put down more than a thousand altogether. On the other hand, he owes you at least forty. Suppose you ask him to pay that back at once. Suppose you let him know that if he doesn't you will turn him out of his house a mere beggar. Suppose, if he consent, you offer to wipe out his debt and give him, say ten thousand pounds, the day after the colt is scratched. You needn't do it now; you can wait a month. Then you can put the screw on at once. He'll kick, jib, order you out of the house, but he will knuckle under in the long run. If he doesn't, then I'm a fool and know nothing about human nature. Why, the thing is so easy and perfectly safe not a soul will know anything about it. The colt pulls up lame one day at exercise, he is reported to be coughing, and before the fools who back horses know what has happened the pen has been put through the name of the favourite. You've got the game entirely in your hands. Then we can get our commissions out all over the country and make a fortune without a penn'orth of risk. By Jove! it makes me tremble only to think of it. If the thing is properly worked, we should divide half a million between us. Now, what have you got to say to that?

Doesn't it sound right?"

Copley brought his fist down upon the table.

"By gad," he exclaimed, "I'll do it, Foster!"

CHAPTER XIII

"AN OFFICER AND A GENTLEMAN"