by F. Anstey
CHAPTER X
TRUST HER NOT! SHE IS FOOLING THEE!
As the Sunset flames most fiery when snuffed out by sudden night; As the Swan reserves its twitter till about to hop the twig; As the Cobra's head swells biggest just before he does his bite; So a feminine smiles her sweetest ere she gives her nastiest dig.
_Satirical Stanza (unpublished) by H. B. J._
Now that our hero had obtained that the name of _Milky Way_ was to beinscribed on the Golden Book of Derby candidates, his next proceedingwas to hire a practical jockey to assume supreme command of her.
And this was no simple matter, since practical jockeys are usually hiredmany weeks beforehand, and demand handsome wages for taking their seats.But at last, after protracted advertisements, Mr Bhosh had the goodfortune to pitch upon a perfect treasure, whose name was CadwalladerPerkin, and who, for his riding in some race or other, had been awardeda whole year's holiday by the stewards who had observed the paramountcyof his horsemanship.
No sooner had Perkin inspected _Milky Way_ than he was quite in lovewith his stable companion, and assured his employer that, with moreregular out-of-door exercise, she would be easily competent to win theDerby on her head, whereupon Mr Bhosh consented that she should begalloped after dark round the inner circle of Regent's Park, which ischiefly populated at such a time by male and female bicyclists.
But in order to pay Perkins charges, and also provide a silken jockeytunic and cap of his own racing colours (which were cream and sky-blue),Mr Bhosh was compelled to borrow more money from Mr McAlpine, who, asa Jewish Scotch, exacted the rather exorbitant interest of sixty percentum.
It leaked out in some manner that _Milky Way_ was a coming Derbyfavourite, and the property of a Native young Indian sportsman, whoseentire fortunes depended on her success, and soon immense multitudescongregated in Regent's Park to witness her trials of speed, and cheeredenthusiastically to behold the fiery sparks scintillating from thestones as she circumvented the inner circle in seven-leagued boots.
Mr Bhosh of course asseverated that she was a very mediocre sort ofmare, and that he did not at all expect that she would prove a winner,but connoisseurs nevertheless betted long odds upon her success, andBindabun himself, though not a speculative, did put on the pot himselfupon the golden egg which he was so anxiously hatching.
One evening amongst those who were gathered to view the nocturnalexercises of _Milky Way_ there appeared a feminine spectator of rathersinister aspect, in a thick veil and a victoria-carriage.
It was no other than Duchess Dickinson, who had somehow learnt howcourageously Mr Bhosh was endeavouring to fulfil the Astrologer-Royal'sprediction, and who had come to ascertain whether his mare was indeedsuch a paragon of celerity as had been represented.
The very first time that _Milky Way_ cantered past with the gait of astreak of lightning, the Duchess realised with a sinking heart that MrBhosh must indubitably succeed at the Derby--_unless he was prevented_.
But how to achieve this? Her womanly instinct told her that CadwalladerPerkin was far too inexperienced to resist for long such mature andripened charms as hers--even though the latter were unfortunatelydiscounted by the accidental nose-flattening.
So, lowering her veil till only her eyes were visible above, she waitedtill he passed once more, then flung him such a liquid and flashingglance from her starry and now no longer discoloured optics that theyoung jockey, who was of an excessively susceptible disposition, allbut fell off the saddle with emotion, like a very juvenile bird underserpentine observation.
"He is mine!" said the unscrupulous Duchess internally, laughing up hersleeve at such a proof of her fascinations, "mine! mine!"
She had too much intelligence and mother-wit, however, to take any stepsuntil Mr Bhosh should be safely out of the way--and how to accomplishhis removal?
As an acquaintance with the above-mentioned usurer, McAlpine, she wasaware that he had advanced large loans to Mr Bhosh, and so she laid herplans and bided her time.
There soon remained only one day before that carnival of all sportingsaturnalians, the Epsom Derby day, and Bindabun formed the prudentresolution to avoid any delays or crushings by putting _Milky Way_ intoa railway box, and despatching her to Epsom on the previous afternoon,under the chaperonage of Cadwallader Perkin, who was to engage suitablelodgings for her in the vicinity of the course.
But just as Bindabun was approaching the booking hole of Victoriaterminus to take a horse-ticket, lo and behold! he was rapped on theshoulder by a couple of policemen, who civilly inquired whether his namewas not Bhosh.
He replied that it was, and that he was the lucky proprietor of a femalehorse who was infallibly destined to win the Derby, and that he was evennow proceeding to purchase her travelling ticket. But the policemeninsisted that he must first discharge the full amount of his debt andcosts to Mr McAlpine, who had commenced a law-suit.
"It is highly inconvenient to pay now," replied our hero, "I will settleup after receiving my Derby Stakes."
"We are infernally sorry," said the constables, "but we haveinstructions to imprison you until the amount is stumped up, andanything you say now will be taken down and used against you at yourtrial."
Mr Bhosh remained _sotto voce_; and as he was being led off with gyvesupon his wrists, like Aram the usher, whom should he behold but theDuchess of Dickinson!
Like all truly first-class heroes, he was of a generous, confidingnature, and his head was not for a moment entered by the suspicion thatthe Duchess could still cherish any ill feelings towards him. "I amsincerely sorry," he said with good-humoured gallantry, "to observe thatyour ladyship's nose-leather is still in such bad repair. I was riding arather muscular steed that afternoon, and could not thoroughly controlmy movements."
She suavely responded that she was proud to have been the means ofbreaking his fall.
"Not only my fall--but your own nose!" retorted Mr. Bhoshsympathetically. "A sad pity! Fortunately, at your time of life suchdisfigurements are of no consequence. I, myself, am now in the prettypickle."
And he explained how he had been arrested for debt, at the very momentwhen he had an appointment to meet his mare and jockey and see themsafely off by the Epsom train.
"Do not trouble about that," said the Duchess. "Hand me your purse, andI myself will meet them and do the needful on your behalf. I haveinterest with this Mr McAlpine and will intercede that you are letout immediately."
Mr Bhosh kissed her hand as he handed over his said purse. "This is,indeed, a noble return for my coldheartedness," he said, "and I am evenmore sorry than before that I should have involuntarily dilapidated soexquisite a nose."
"Pray do not mention it," replied the Duchess, with the baleful simperof a Sphynx, and Mr Bhosh departed for his durance vile with a mindtotally free from misgivings.