"You lost too?"

"Yes, uncle," cried Syd, shaking him; "but you haven't. You won--for all of us. I turned that ten you gave me into a century."

"I--won?" stammered Sir Hilton, with his hands pressing his temples.

"To be sure you did. You were sitting all of a jelly, and the game was nearly up; but Dr Jack Granton gave you a drench, just as if you'd been a horse. Then we got you into the air, and you came round directly, and ran between us to the saddling paddock, where we set you on to the mare just in time, and you led the field from the beginning. You won in a canter. Can't you recollect?"

"No, nothing."

"Don't you remember nearly tumbling off the horse after you'd pa.s.sed the post?"

"No."

"Nor getting into the scales, saddle and bridle and all?"

"No; nothing whatever."

"Oh, Sam Simpkins, you must have given him a dose!"

"Yes, I remember that--that champagne. It did taste very queer and strange," cried Sir Hilton, turning upon the trainer, whose red face looked piebald with sickly white, so strangely was it mottled.

"I'd had it a long time, Sir Hilton," stammered the man. "P'raps it was a bit off."

"Oh, hang that!" cried Sir Hilton. "Tell me again, Syd, my boy; did I win?"

"In a canter, I tell you, uncle," cried the boy.

"Ha!" sighed Sir Hilton, with a look of intense relief. "But it must be kept from your aunt. She has such--"

"Kept from auntie?" cried Syd, staring. "Why, she knows all."

"Knows all? You've told her?"

"No-o-o-o. Don't you remember? No, you recollect nothing. She got to know you were off to ride somehow, and came after us to the hotel."

"What?"

"That's right, uncle. Lady Lisle came and saw him, didn't she, Sam?"

"Yes, sir," growled Sam, still mopping his face.

"But not dressed--not in my silk and boots?"

"Oh, yes, uncle. Didn't she, Sam?"

"Yes, sir; that's right enough."

"Horror!" groaned Sir Hilton. "She'll never forgive me."

"Worse than that, uncle. She saw that you were tight."

"You young villain, it's not true!" roared Sir Hilton. "How dare you say that!"

"Because it's true," cried Syd, lightly. "Isn't it, Sam?"

"Yes, sir," faltered the man. "Wery screwed indeed."

"Tell me the rest," groaned Sir Hilton in despair.

"Fainted away, uncle; but I didn't stop to see. I had to look to you and the race. But afterwards Dr Jack Granton went back to the hotel and physicked her. Didn't he, Sam?"

"Yes, sir, 'long o' Lady Tilborough; and they took her away in her ladyship's carriage to Oakleigh."

"And then brought her home?"

"I s'pose so, uncle. I dunno. I stuck to you. So did Sam."

"Thank you, my boy--thank you, Simpkins. I'll talk to you another time.

But, you see, I'm quite clear and well now."

"Yes, Sir Hilton--thank goodness!" said the trainer, hoa.r.s.ely.

"Then, now, you had better have a gla.s.s of something and drive--What's that?"

"Wheels, uncle. There goes the gate."

The click, click, click came very plainly, and the next minute there were the steps of Jane and Mark in the hall.

"Stop a moment," cried Sir Hilton. "What is it? Who is it come?"

"Her ladyship, I think, Sir Hilton," cried Jane.

"What! I thought she was at home."

"No, sir. She went to Tilborough after you."

"Uncle," cried Syd, "whatever shall we say?"

He shrank back with his uncle into the drawing-room, and the door swung to, while the next moment they heard the front door open and Lady Lisle's voice.

"Has Sir Hilton returned?"

"Yes, my lady," replied Jane.

"Ha!"

Lady Lisle hurried into the drawing-room with stately stride, but she looked round in vain, and faced Lady Tilborough and Doctor Granton, who had followed her in, for the late occupants of the room had disappeared.