The Hundredth Chance

by Ethel M. Dell

  CHAPTER IX

  THE REAL MAN

  That Sunday of their visit to the Burchester Stables was a marked daywith Maud for the rest of her life.

  The Stables were situated on the side of a splendid down about a milefrom the sea. Lord Saltash's estate stretched for miles around, and hepractically owned the whole of Fairharbour. Burchester Castle was thename of the seat, an ancient pile dating from Saxon times that hadbelonged to the Burchester family since the days of the Tudors. CharlieBurchester had inherited it from his uncle five years before; but he didnot live in it. He had occasional wild house-parties there, especiallyfor the event of the Graydown Races. And he sometimes spent a night ortwo when the mood took him to visit the stud. But for the most part thehouse stood in empty grandeur, its rooms shuttered and shrouded, itsstately gardens deserted save for the gardeners who tended them.

  Exquisite gardens they were. Maud had a glimpse of them from the heightof the down--terraced gardens with marble steps and glisteningfountains, yew-walks, darkly mysterious, quaintly fashioned, pines thatrustled and whispered together. The house was securely hidden from viewamong its trees.

  "It used to be a nunnery," said Jake. "Its inhabitants had a chasteobjection to publicity. It's an interesting old place, about a milefrom the Stables. I'd like to show it to you some time. You'd enjoyit."

  "Not to-day," said Bunny quickly.

  Jake smiled at his tone. "No, not to-day, lad. We'll go and see theanimals to-day."

  He had brought them up the long, winding private road which, thoughsmooth enough, was a continual ascent. Maud had wanted to help with theinvalid-chair, but he had steadily refused any assistance. Shemarvelled at the evident ease with which he had accomplished thejourney, never hurrying, never halting, not even needing to pause forbreath, untiring as a wild animal in its native haunts. She rememberedthe nickname he bore on the Turf, and reflected that it fitted him inmore than one respect. He was so supple, so tough, so sure.

  Suddenly those bright eyes flashed round on her. "Say, you're tired,"he said, in his queer, lilting voice. "We'll have tea first."

  "No!" cried Bunny on the instant. "We'll do the Stables first, Jake.It's not time for tea. Besides, tea can wait."

  Jake's brown hand came over the back of the chair and filliped the boy'scheek. "Shut up, my son!" said Jake.

  Maud stared at the action. Bunny turned scarlet.

  Jake unconcernedly continued his easy progress. "Reckon the animalswon't die if we don't inspect 'em till after tea," he said. "What'syour idea, Miss Brian?"

  "If Bunny wishes to go straight to the Stables--" she began.

  He interrupted. "Bunny has changed his mind. Ain't that so, Bunny?"

  "I don't care," said Bunny rather sullenly.

  "All right then," said Jake. "Tea first!"

  He wheeled the chair into a great gateway that led into a wide stonecourtyard. White-washed stables were on each side of them and atregular intervals large green tubs containing miniature fir-trees. Atthe further end of the courtyard stood a square, white-washed house.

  "That's my shanty," said Jake.

  It was a very plain building; in former days it had been a farm. Therewas a white railing in front and a small white gate flanked by anotherpair of toy firs. The whole effect was one of prim cleanliness.

  "There's a bit of garden at the back," said Jake. "And asummer-house--quite a decent little summer-house--that looks right awayto the sea. Now, Bunny lad, there's a comfortable sofa inside for you.Think I can carry you in?"

  "Can't you take in the chair?" Maud asked nervously.

  Jake looked at her. "Oh yes, I can. But the passage is a bit narrow.It's not very easy to turn."

  "Of course he can carry me, Maud. Let him carry me!" broke in Bunny, inan aggrieved tone. "You make such a stupid fuss always."

  Jake had thrown open the door of his home. "You go in, Miss Brian!" hesaid. "Turn to the right at the end of the passage, and it's the doorfacing you."

  She went in reluctantly. The passage was small and dark, oak-panelled,low-ceiled.

  "Go right in!" said Jake.

  She did not want to turn her back on Bunny, but she knew that the boywould resent any lingering on her part. She passed down the passage andturned as Jake had directed.

  The door that faced her stood open, and she entered a long, low room,oak-panelled like the passage, with a deep, old-fashioned fireplace inwhich burned a cheery wood fire. Two windows, diamond-paned, and a doorwith the upper panels of glass occupied the whole of the further side ofthe room, and the western sunshine slanting in threw great bars of goldacross the low window-seats.

  Tea had been set on a table in the middle of the room, to the corner ofwhich a sofa had been drawn. There were bed-pillows as well as cushionson the sofa. Evidently Jake had ransacked the house to provide comfortfor Bunny.

  Maud stood just within the doorway listening, dreading to hear theindignant outcry that generally attended any movement of the poor littlecrippled body. But she heard nothing beyond Jake's voice murmuringunintelligibly, and in a few seconds the steady tread of his feet as heentered the house.

  Then, while she stood listening, the feet drew near and there came apleased chuckle from Bunny. Jake came squarely in, carrying him like aninfant, and deposited him with infinite care among the cushions thatMaud hastily adjusted for his reception.

  "There you are, my son," he said. "Make yourself as much at home as youcan!"

  Bunny looked about him with keen interest. "Oh, I say, what a jollyroom! What a ripping room! You're beastly lucky to live here, Jake."

  "Oh, yes, it's a decent little crib," said Jake. "Those doorsteps werejust made for an evening pipe."

  He indicated the closed glass-panelled door. Maud went to it and foundthat the ground sloped sharply away from this side of the house,necessitating a flight of several steps. They led down into a sunnyspace that was more orchard than garden,--fruit-trees and grassspreading down the side of the hill towards the magic, pine-screenedgrounds of Burchester Castle.

  Jake came and stood beside her for a moment. He was being studiouslyimpersonal that day, an attitude which curiously caused her more ofuneasiness than relief.

  "The arbour is at the end by those apple-trees," he said. "You can justsee the roof from here. It looks over the field where we train. It'ssport to watch the youngsters learning to run. Lord Saltash calls itthe grand stand."

  "Do you know Lord Saltash?" broke in Bunny. "He used to be a great palof ours once."

  "Oh, that was years ago--in London," said Maud quickly. "No doubt hehas quite forgotten our existence by this time."

  She spoke with unwitting sharpness, hotly aware that the lynx-like eyesof her host were upon her.

  Bunny took instant offence. "I'm sure it wasn't years ago, Maud; andyou know it wasn't. It isn't more than two since we saw him last--ifthat. As to forgetting all about us, that isn't very likely,considering the mother was one of his bad debts."

  "Bunny!" Maud began in rare anger.

  But in the same moment Jake swung calmly round. "Say, Bunny, do you likeshrimps?" he asked. He moved to Bunny's side and stood looking down athim. "I got some in case. Miss Brian, I hope shrimps are good for him,are they?"

  "She doesn't know," said Bunny irritably. "What's the good of askingher? Of course I like shrimps! Aren't we going to begin soon? I wantto go and see the horses."

  "You seem to be in an all-fired hurry," observed Jake. "Left yourmanners behind, haven't you?" He took out his watch. "Half-past three!All right, my son. We'll go at four, Miss Brian, do you mind pouringout?"

  He set a chair for her facing the window, and sat down himself next toBunny.

  It seemed to Maud that, seated there in his own house, she saw him undera new aspect. He played the host with ability and no small amount oftact.

  He talked mainly about the stud, interesting her in a subjec
t which shehad never before viewed at close quarters. He described various eventsin which some of his charges had won distinction, and presently, toBunny's keen delight; he began a brief but stirring description of anattempt to tamp with one of the animals two summers before on the eve ofone of the Graydown Races. Some inkling of the intended attempt hadreached him, and he himself had lain in wait to frustrate it.

  "But how?" cried Bunny breathlessly.

  "I decided to spend the night in the loose-box," said Jake. "There's nohardship in sleeping alongside a good horse. I've done it many a time.I wasn't so intimate with Lord Saltash then as I am now, but I knewenough not to be altogether surprised when he came sliding into thestable-yard a little after midnight in a two-seated car and madestraight for the loose-box where I was. The top half of the door wasajar, and there was a dim lamp burning in the yard, but his head-lightsshowed up everything like day. He pushed the top half right back andleaned his arms on the lower and said, 'That you, Bolton?' I got up andwent to him. There was no one else about. 'I've put myself in chargethis trip,' I told him. 'You needn't be nervous.' He grinned in asickly sort of fashion and said, 'I am nervous--deuced nervous, and I'lltell you why. If that brute runs to-morrow I'm a ruined man.' And thenhe started jawing about some fool wager he'd made, said he was under thethumb of some rascally booky, and actually began to try and talk me intospoiling the animal's chances."

  Jake paused. He was looking at Maud as if he expected something.

  She looked back at him, her head very high, her eyes shining defiantlybright. "Lord Saltash has a double apparently?" she said.

  "Now, that's real clever of you!" said Jake, with a smile. "Yes, that isthe key to the mystery, and I soon grasped it. He offered me a large sumof money to prevent Pedro running. Pedro was listening to thetransaction with his head on my shoulder. I said yes to everything, andthen I suggested that we should settle the details outside where therewas no chance of witnesses. He agreed to that, and I picked up my whipand got into his car after him, and we slipped out and ran abouthalf-a-mile into the Park where I stopped him."

  Jake paused again, still looking expectantly at the girl facing him.She was flushed but evidently not greatly moved.

  "What a thrilling recital!" she said.

  And, "Go on!" urged Bunny impatiently.

  Jake laughed a little. "I felt rather a skunk myself. He was so sweetlyunsuspicious, till I used the cowboy clutch on him and tied up his armsin his own coat. That opened his eyes, but it was a bit too late. Hewas in for a cowhiding, and he realized it, scarcely showed fight, infact. I didn't let him off on that account, and I don't suppose he hasforgotten it to this day. I didn't quite flay him, but I made him feelsome."

  "And you let him go afterwards?" questioned Bunny.

  "Yes, I let him go." Jake took up his cup and drank in a contemplativefashion. "After that," he said, in his slow way, "I went back to Pedro,and we finished the night together. But--I don't know whether havinghis rest disturbed upset his nerves any--he only managed to come insecond after all."

  "And Lord Saltash?" said Maud abruptly. "Did you ever tell him what hadhappened?"

  "Oh yes," said Jake. "I told him the following evening, and he laughedin his jolly way and said, 'Well, I'm glad you weren't taken in, but I'mglad too that you let the poor devil go. A leathering from you couldn'thave been any such joke.' It wasn't," added Jake grimly. "It was asunlike a joke as a blue pill is unlike raspberry jam."

  "But what became of the real man?" questioned Bunny. "Did he get cleanaway?"

  "Clean away," said Jake. "And now--if you're ready--we'll go and seethe hero of that episode."

  "Who was the hero?" asked Maud, with a hint of sarcasm as she rose.

  He looked at her with a faint smile. "Why, Dom Pedro, of course," hesaid. "Come along and make his acquaintance!"