Sir Hilton's Sin Part 34

Lady Lisle felt exhausted, and she made a gesture as if to speak.

"No, you've had your innings, my lady, and I don't keep calling you woman, woman, woman. Now, here's what I've got to say as a fine-ale-- the thing's happened, and you've got to make the best of it. My Molly's out yonder with the chap she loves and who loves her. You can't get at 'em, and if you behave sensible you'll get back in your carriage and go straight home, and the sooner the better, or I shall have to show you the door, for I've got something in the way of a big business to do. By and by, when you get cool, you'll see as it's no use to be orty, and if you like to come down off the stilts and ask my Molly to join you at the Denes, well and good."

"Oh!" gasped the visitor in horror.

"Very well, if you don't I shan't fret. I know what you've done long enough, keeping him like at the Denes; but I can afford it, even if I am hard hit to-day. It only means putting an extra knife and fork at my table, where he shall be welcome till you drop the orty and 'old your 'and--Hullo! Feel upset, my lady? That's pride and temper."

"Don't touch me, man!" panted the suffering woman; "it would be pollution. Oh, Hilton, Hilton!" she moaned as she strove to steady herself to the door and managed to walk out of the porch and step feebly into the carriage.

"Home!" she said, in a deep, hollow voice before she sank back, unconscious of the excitement and noise around, and moaned softly.

"Home? No; it is home no more."

This giving way to one set of feelings lasted but a few moments, for there rose up before her imagination the figure of her husband seated somewhere with her young and handsome rival, possibly hand in hand, watching the scene before them, and a wave of fierce pa.s.sion swept all before it. The next minute, to the astonishment and satisfaction of her disappointed coachman, who was longing to see one heat if not more, she stood up in the barouche and prodded him with her parasol.

"Turn back," she said, "and drive to where I can have a good view of the race."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

LA SYLPHIDE'S HEALTH.

"Orty, stuck-up popinjay!" growled the trainer, mopping his forehead.

"But she's got to come down. And me on pins and needles all the time for fear he should open his door and she see him! I did feel as if it might be right to let her, but his monkey would have been up, and she couldn't have stopped him from riding. Hullo!" he said, as he saw Trimmer at the office-door. "Not gone!"

"No," whispered the agent. "I felt obliged to stay."

"And I feel obliged to kick you out. So cut."

"No, no, Mr Simpkins."

"Look here, sir, if that job's to be done, I can do it. I don't want no complications. You can stand by me if it gets blown and there's a job for the police. As it is, I'll do it or not do it, without your meddling and putting in your spoon. Take your hook, dyer hear, and before he comes."

At that very moment there was the rattle of a door handle in the gallery, and a familiar voice exclaimed: "One moment, Sir Hilton, you've left your whip."

"Give it me; but she'll want no whip."

The trainer made a fierce gesture, and the agent retreated through the office, while the former thrust his fat finger and thumb into his waistcoat pocket unconsciously as he advanced towards the foot of the stairs, down which Sir Hilton came carefully, so as not to catch his spurs in the carpet, and closely followed by Mark Willows, bearing a long drab greatcoat. The baronet looked the very pink of a gentleman-rider in his light-blue satin s.h.i.+rt, diagonally crossed over the right shoulder by a broad scarlet scarf-like band, and scarlet jockey cap to match. His breeches and boots fitted to perfection, and as he stepped lightly into the middle of the hall, almost on the very spot which his wife had occupied, there was a keen look in his grey eyes and a slight quivering about his well-cut nostrils, making him seem alert, ready, and quite the man who might be trusted with a race.

"There," he said sharply; "how long have I to spare?"

"Good half-hour, sir," said the trainer, gazing at his guest as if full of pride at his appearance.

"Leave that coat on the chair, there, man, and go and wait for me at the paddock."

Mark touched his hat and pa.s.sed out, eager to get on to the field of battle, swarming with objects of interest to the groom's eyes, while Simpkins approached his guest, smiling and rubbing his hands.

"Well, Sam," said Sir Hilton, shortly; "do I look all right?"

"All right, Sir Hilton? Splendid!"

The eager admiration seemed to be perfectly real, as the trainer walked round, inspecting carefully.

"Not your old things, are they, Sir Hilton?"

"Oh, yes. Been lying by these three years. Look--creased and soiled?"

"Fresh as a daisy, Sir Hilton. Why, its like old times. Here, hang the business! It may take care of itself to-day. I'm coming to see you ride."

The man spoke back over his shoulder, as, leaving his guest shaking himself down in the unaccustomed garb, he hurried into the office, where a pop was heard, and he returned, bearing a waiter, on which was a foaming champagne bottle and a couple of gla.s.ses.

This he placed upon a little marble table, and began to fill the gla.s.ses with trembling hands, a little in first one and then in the other, till the cream ceased to threaten flowing over, when he placed the bottle by itself and bore the waiter and its gla.s.ses towards the guest. "Hullo!

What have you got there, Sam?"

"Irroy, black seal, Sir Hilton."

"I see; but I didn't order it."

"No, Sir Hilton, but you won't mind taking a gla.s.s with the old trainer--to La Sylphide, and the winning of the cup?"

"No, no, no, man. Nonsense! Very good of you, but I want a cool head and a steady hand."

"Of course you do, Sir Hilton; but one gla.s.s o' dry fizz! Not much harm in that, Sir Hilton. You'll do me the honour, sir, just for luck?

Tighten up your nerves, and make you win in a canter."

"Do you want me to win, Sam?" said Sir Hilton, sharply.

"Win, Sir Hilton? Of course. I thought I was going to lose heavily, but I've put it right, and it means a couple of hundred if you sail in first."

"And if I lose?"

"I shall be just about even, Sir Hilton," said the man, with a grin, as he held out the tray.

"Well," said Sir Hilton, whose cheeks were flushed with excitement, "I shall win, Sam."

He took up the clear, foaming gla.s.s, from up whose centre the tiny beads were rising fast, like a fountain, to break and add to the sparkling foam. "Here's La Sylphide, Sam."

"Here's La Sylphide, Sir Hilton," cried the trainer, "and thanking my old master for the honour done to his old trainer Simpkins, chrissen Sam."

As he spoke he fixed his eyes full upon those of the gaily-dressed jockey facing him, and, taking his time from his guest, raised the gla.s.s to his lips and kept it there till it was drained, before holding out the salver for Sir Hilton's empty gla.s.s.

"Bah! Too dry," said Sir Hilton, with a slight grimace. "How long have you had that wine?"

"'Bout seven year, Sir Hilton," replied the man, setting down the waiter and replacing the bottle by the gla.s.ses, but so clumsily that he knocked over his guest's gla.s.s, which was s.h.i.+vered to atoms on the floor.

"Oh, I beg pardon, Sir Hilton! I'm so excited with the race that my head's all of a shake. Hi, somebody, a clean gla.s.s!"

The barmaid ran out with the fresh gla.s.s, and she was followed by one of the other maids with a dustpan and brush.