"All right, Sir Hilton. I understand yer alloosion. I may've got a bit on Jim Crow, consequent upon the misfortune to Josh Rowle; but," he continued, closing one eye meaningly, "I can put that right easy. You win the race, Sir Hilton, and I'll make a pot of money by it. I know the ropes."

"You do, Sam," said the baronet, laughing.

"And I'm glad of the charnsh to do a good turn to a couple o' n.o.ble patrons who have put many a hundred into my pocket. Look here, Sir Hilton, there's plenty of time yet. I am at your service. Just you take me to the mare, and let me have a few minutes with her."

"The mare is not my property, Sam," said Sir Hilton, laughing.

"Of course not, Sir Hilton. I forgot. What do you say, my lady? That there Jim Crow's a good horse, and La Sylphide hasn't the wind she had."

"Indeed!" said Lady Tilborough.

"It's a fact, my lady. What she wants is holding in and a waiting game, _and_ just something as--you know, Sir Hilton--for the roosh at the last, as'll take her in a couple o' lengths ahead."

"Yes, I understand," said Sir Hilton, drily.

"You hear, my lady? I want you to win."

"Thank you, Simpkins," said Lady Tilborough, gravely. "I am greatly obliged."

"And I'm to just take the mare in hand for you," said the man, who, in his excitement, could not restrain his eagerness.

"Well, no, thank you, Simpkins," said the lady, quietly. "You were always a very good trainer, and I made a good deal of money in the past, but I have a very trustworthy man now, and he might object to your interference at the eleventh hour."

"Oh, I could soon make it right with him, my lady," said the trainer, quickly.

"No doubt, Sam Simpkins," said the lady, meaningly, "but I should be sorry to have my man's morals a.s.sailed."

"I don't understand you, my lady."

"Then I'll speak more plainly, Simpkins. I am not disposed to lay my man open to temptation."

"What! Does your ladyship mean to insinuate that I'd do anything that warn't quite square?"

"I insinuate nothing, Sam Simpkins. I only go so far as to say that you are not my servant now, and that I would not trust you in the least."

"Hark at that now!" cried the trainer, turning up his eyes to the sporting trophies on the walls, and unconsciously letting them rest on the grinning mask of an old fox. Then "Ain't you got a word to say for me, Sir Hilton? I has my faults, I know, but no man living would say I couldn't be trusted. You allus found me right, Sir Hilton."

"Always, Sam, when it suited your book."

"Well, I am!" exclaimed the trainer.

"Yes, Sam, an awful old scamp," said Lady Tilborough, laughing. "Thank you, my man. You've got your favourite, I've got mine, and the man to ride her straight and square as an English gentleman should ride an English horse."

"All right, Sir Hilton. All right, my lady. Sorry I tried to give advice gratis for nothing; only mind this, both of you, if La Sylphide breaks down or Sir Hilton here loses his nerve through being out of training, don't you blame me."

"Don't be alarmed, Simpkins," said Lady Tilborough, in a tone which made the trainer draw back a step or two. "Here, Hilton."

"Yes."

"A horrible thought. What about your weight?" she whispered.

"Went straight to the scales and tried," he replied, in the same lowered tone. "Right to an ounce."

"Ha!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Lady Tilborough, with a sigh of relief and a glance back to see if the trainer was out of hearing. "Now then, off to your room and get into your silk. Mind, you must keep cool and you must win."

"I'm trying my best. But I can't help thinking. My wife!"

"Oh! Kiss your wife, man--when you get back. Never mind her now."

"But if by any chance she hears?"

"Let her hear when the race is run. She must hear afterwards, of course. Wives and husbands are out of court now. Remember your four thou'."

"I do," said Sir Hilton, with a groan.

"Ah! would you!" cried Lady Tilborough. "You've got to face the thing anyhow, and listen, here's your position: It's meeting the poor, severe darling with the race lost, or meeting her with it won. Which will you do?"

"Of course," cried Sir Hilton, eagerly. "I see."

"You're yourself again. Now, one more word--that man has backed Jim Crow heavily. You understand?"

"Of course."

"And Jim Crow's rather a dangerous horse; but if you keep cool, and in your old form, the race is ours."

"Yes; I feel it now."

"Then you know. Keep her clear, and let her have her own old way."

"Then I'm off yonder. You'll meet me there. I've a hankering to be at her side, for fear of the possibility of anyone getting at her even now."

"No fear of that. Off with you!"

Lady Tilborough held out her hand, and Granton entered quickly.

"Silk ho!" he cried.

Sir Hilton nodded shortly and ran actively up the stairs.

"Bravo!" said the doctor. "Hilt looks his old self. Cool as a--you know."

"Don't say another word to me, Granton, till the race is over," said the lady, pleadingly.

"I understand," he said, and they went off straight for the paddock, while as soon as the chamber door in the gallery had been shut sharply upon his master by Mark Willows, Simpkins slipped out of the bar entry, looking flushed and strange.

"Too late to do anything now," he groaned to himself. "My head seems to be going--all of a buzz. Hedge heavily or chance it. Which? Which?

Oh, what in the name of thunder shall I do?"