BY 
 
 RICHARD PARKER
 
 we-
 
 
 fefft. Of CALIF.
 
 'QUIETLY HE SLIPPED ALONG THE FOOTPLATE"
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 BY 
 
 RICHARD PARKER 
 
 NOVELIZED FROM CECIL RALEIGH'S 
 
 GREAT DRURY LANE MELODRAMA 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH PICTURES FROM THE PLAY 
 
 - 
 
 NEW YORK 
 THE MACAULAY COMPANY 
 
 1913
 
 Copyright, 1913, by 
 THE MACAULAY COMPANY
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PACE 
 
 I. AN UNUSUAL INTRODUCTION . . n 
 
 II. DIANA THE HUNTRESS . .... 27 
 
 III. No TRESPASSERS 36 
 
 IV. A MOUSE IN THE STABLE . . . . 57 
 V. THE ACCIDENT 70 
 
 VI. THE TIME AND THE PARSON . . 83 
 
 VII. THE TRIALS OF LOVE ..... 99 
 
 VIII. MARRIAGE MADE EASY .... 107 
 
 IX. A WOMAN SCORNED 125 
 
 X. AN UNEXPECTED GUEST . . . .142 
 
 XI. A POOR DESSERT 151 
 
 XII. BRANCASTER PLUNGES AGAIN . .157 
 
 XIII. CAPTAIN SARTORIS RECEIVES . . 193 
 
 XIV. COFFEE AND REPARTEE .... 209 
 XV. AT MADAME TUSSAUD'S . . . .218 
 
 XVI. LOCKED IN 242 
 
 XVII. MRS. BEAMISH RELENTS .... 253
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XVIII. THE WRECK 266 
 
 XIX. AT NEWMARKET 274 
 
 XX. MRS. D'AQUILA'S INSPIRATION . . 284 
 
 XXI. THE TRUTH AT LAST 291 
 
 XXII. THE WHIP WINS ........ 301
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 "Quietly he slipped along the footplate" Frontispiece 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 " 'I thought perhaps you were asleep,' Lady Diana 
 
 said" 125 
 
 " "They're after me !' he panted" 193 
 
 "Harry put his arm about her. 'Come away, 
 
 lass!' he said" 216 
 
 "The Whip was led to safety" 272 
 
 "He joined their hands and held them both in his" 300
 
 THE WHIP
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 AN UNUSUAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 LADY DIANA set her mount at the stiffly 
 railed fence before her, and as the pack, 
 scenting the food waiting in the kennels, 
 swept through the barrier, Lady Diana 
 went over it. 
 
 In mid air she saw a picture, vividly and 
 anxiously. Under the royal oak sat an art- 
 ist sketching. So intent was he on his out- 
 line of the kennels and mushroomed stables 
 that he gave no attention to the hounds and 
 apparently was not conscious of the ap- 
 proach hurtling through the air of the 
 lady on her palfrey. 
 
 The original impetus of Lady Diana's 
 ii
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 leap would have carried woman and horse 
 squarely into the person of the artist. But 
 the moment the girl had seen him a paralyz- 
 ing inhibition had stayed the force of horse 
 and rider almost in the air, and both lost 
 their carrying power, making a very bun- 
 gling finale of what had been originally a 
 very fine movement. 
 
 But as it was, the easel, made on the spot 
 by the artist out of twigs and dead branches, 
 had been shattered by a movement of one of 
 the hunter's sleek legs, and, worse an iron- 
 shod hoof had made an ugly mark upon the 
 artist's left wrist, which had laid at rest on 
 the moss while his right hand sketched. 
 
 In a trembling hurry Lady Diana swung 
 from the saddle. Her mount, disregarded, 
 was allowed to amble away, and browsed 
 without restraint. 
 
 "Oh, I'm so sorry pray tell me that 
 you're not hurt severely," she said, and 
 raised her eyes to the stranger's face. 
 
 12
 
 AN UNUSUAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 She saw clean cut features, black eyes 
 with just a shade of amusement of whim 
 in them though there must have been pain 
 in that wrist and wavy black hair. The 
 man was in rough tweeds, and a cloth hat of 
 his suit's pattern lay a little way off. 
 
 But from beneath and beyond the 
 stranger's features, Lady Diana Sartoris got 
 her impression of the man. There were 
 sadness, wistfulness, a sense of the decay of 
 a fine nature, a look of tragedy. 
 
 His hurt did not appear to concern him. 
 Indeed, his whole being seemed devoted to 
 a scrutinizing, an appraising of her. From 
 her green little hat and her long green coat, 
 he turned to note that cold perfection of her 
 features, that fair chiseling which, with her 
 perfect health, and consequent confident 
 poise, made this young woman at times seem 
 almost too self-centered, too well schooled. 
 
 Without answering the man stood watch- 
 ing her, almost hungrily, yet with no repul- 
 
 13
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 sive effect and very respectfully. The girl 
 repeated her inquiry. 
 
 "Not a bit," he returned carelessly. "It 
 was really very stupid of me not to have 
 noticed a pack in full cry for its kennel feed- 
 ing, and so inspiring an object as their mis- 
 tress." 
 
 He had covered his hurt with his hand- 
 kerchief and knotted and twisted it before 
 the girl could offer to minister to him. 
 
 "Such absorption can only be excused in 
 a very great artist, and such I assure you I 
 can scarcely hope to be." 
 
 His deprecating motion brought his open 
 sketch book nearer the girl and her eyes fell 
 upon its pages. 
 
 "Why, there's the kennels!" she ex- 
 claimed. "Oh! I mustn't think of your 
 sketches, but your hurt. I am profoundly 
 sorry. If I could do anything " 
 
 "A little thing that I can attend to easily, 
 after a bit," he said then in courteous anx- 
 
 14
 
 iety to turn the current of her thoughts he 
 went on: "It really gives an idea of them, 
 doesn't it? See, here are some of the dogs." 
 
 The book was now in the girl's hand. 
 
 "I've noticed you about sketching for the 
 past four mornings," she confessed, turning 
 the pages. "And, ah, see, here's Dido!" 
 
 With a laugh the artist answered, 
 
 "I'm glad it's good enough to recog- 
 nize." 
 
 "Oh, yes but," she began and hesitated. 
 
 "Ah, there's a but," laughed the stranger, 
 merrily. 
 
 "I draw a little myself, you know," went 
 on the girl, "and dogs and horses are rather 
 my strong point." 
 
 There was no pride in her manner, only 
 the sublime self-confidence of a Sartoris of 
 Yorkshire. 
 
 "And you don't think they're mine," the 
 stranger said, amusement in his eye, but his 
 voice perfectly serious. 
 
 15
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "I don't say that," resumed the self-con- 
 fident girl, "but you see it isn't quite right 
 Look, just here the turn of the head." 
 
 Again there was a jovial light in the 
 stranger's smile. 
 
 "Would you put it right for me?" he 
 asked. 
 
 Lady Diana caught the bridle of her 
 horse and strode toward the stables. 
 
 "Come along, then," she said imper- 
 sonally, "and we'll see what we can do." 
 
 In the level bit of ground before the sta- 
 bles she was greeted kindly and affection- 
 ately by hurrying stablemen, her arrival 
 having been announced in a way by the 
 pack, which without requiring the guidance 
 of the whips, had rushed to the feeding 
 troughs. 
 
 "Take my horse, one of you, will you? 
 And someone bring out Dido," she ordered 
 in a tone that seemed very gracious to the 
 16
 
 AN UNUSUAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 English about her, but would have jarred 
 upon even an American waiter. 
 
 A kennelman carried out the hound in his 
 arms and deposited her near Lady Diana. 
 With the sketch book on her knee, the girl 
 pointed her riding-crop at Dido. 
 
 "Can you manage to hold her?" she 
 asked. 
 
 The stranger, taking the hound, seated 
 himself on the corner of the stone bridge 
 that spanned a little stream and was a link 
 in the highway that ran by the stables. 
 
 "How's that?" he asked. 
 
 "Just a little more round," she returned. 
 "Sol That's capital!" Then she busied 
 herself with her pencil. 
 
 "Do you exhibit?" she asked, turning up- 
 on him for a second an oblique look, then 
 another upon the drawing. 
 
 "Very little," he said, with marked hesi- 
 tation.
 
 THE WHIP; 
 
 "Whose whose name am I to look for?" 
 she inquired, a trace of personal kindliness 
 in her glance. 
 
 "I'd rather not give my name until 
 I've done more for my reputation," he 
 said a trifle awkwardly and in some con- 
 cern. 
 
 The personal touch faded from her man- 
 ner and she became again the self-centered, 
 impregnable personality characteristic of 
 the Englishwoman or man at will. 
 
 "Oh, as you like," she said. Then, hold- 
 ing out the sketch toward him, she went on : 
 "There, look, how's that?" 
 
 "By Jove, it's splendid. What magic 
 you can work with just a touch or two," he 
 exclaimed. 
 
 She made him a little bow, with some- 
 thing not hostile in it, and began quickly 
 to turn the pages of the book. 
 
 "Oh, you paint landscapes, too," she said; 
 "and they're very good, too. That's a deli- 
 
 18
 
 AN UNUSUAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 cious little bit, and that's the spinny where 
 we killed last Fall and I got the brush. 
 And, oh! the old half fortress half tower 
 sort of place. It looks as though it might 
 be" 
 
 She was looking toward the seat of the 
 last Earl of Brancaster in the distance, 
 dimly visible up the glen. 
 
 "The Rievers," the stranger finished her 
 sentence. "It is. Haven't you ever been 
 there?" 
 
 "Nobody about here goes," returned Lady 
 Diana. "You see, it belongs to Lord Bran- 
 caster, and he hardly ever visits it, though 
 I've heard he's here now. Did he give you 
 permission to sketch it?" 
 
 The stranger nodded. 
 
 "I shouldn't have thought he would have 
 had much sympathy with artists or art," she 
 said. 
 
 "Why not?" he asked, his glance for the 
 moment falling. 
 
 19
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "His tastes are rather er notorious. 
 I'm afraid he's rather a byword about 
 here. Even the country people call him 
 'The Wicked Earl.' " 
 
 The thoughtless words of this young Eng- 
 lishwoman, who was as yet too immature to 
 exercise a fine judging sense, aroused the 
 artist and he went closer to the girl. 
 
 "And because a lot of yokels give a man 
 an odious nickname," he said tersely, "you 
 judge him unheard. What do you know 
 of him?" 
 
 "Nothing, thanks," said Lady Diana. 
 
 "Isn't it a bit rough on him to believe 
 on mere hearsay?" asked the artist. 
 
 "I don't, but my grandfather, who has a 
 kind word for everyone, says that his grand- 
 father was a soldier, his father a soldier and 
 a gentleman, but he hopes the son will never 
 darken his doors. And all the world says 
 he fritters away his life and is flinging 
 away his fortune." 
 
 20
 
 AN UNUSUAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 The stranger smiled with a sense of pain 
 reflected in his face. 
 
 "What the world says is often malice," 
 he said, going to the rescue of Lord Bran- 
 caster, "but I'm sorry to hear what Lord 
 [Beverley said. Nobody's all bad. Perhaps 
 it's because Lord Beverley doesn't know him 
 that he thinks so ill of him. Perhaps if you 
 knew him, you might find some little 
 good" 
 
 "I'm sure I hope so," said Lady Diana. 
 But the stranger continued: 
 
 "I'm sure he'd hope so. If he has played 
 havoc with his life, mayn't he repent his 
 folly? Perhaps in a sense he never had a 
 chance perhaps he never had a father or 
 mother in his youth to direct him and per- 
 haps he'll turn out all right now perhaps 
 no good woman " 
 
 A softly insidious voice thrust itself into 
 the intimacy that seemed about to begin be- 
 tween these two young people. 
 
 21
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "Ah, there you are," it said. 
 
 Both the girl and the man looked up and 
 saw in the road a motor car with a chauffeur 
 and a woman stepping out from it. For the 
 briefest space the two women measured 
 glances. Lady Diana saw a tall, rather 
 dark and foreign appearing young woman 
 of an uncertain age, whose black hair and 
 sharp features gave her, in the estimation 
 of anyone seeing her for the first time, a 
 certain aspect of power. 
 
 A moment later she was walking toward 
 them. 
 
 The artist was not pleased at this intru- 
 sion, and Diana saw that upon his face was 
 that tragic mask she had noted when they 
 saw each other for the first time, not so 
 many minutes ago. 
 
 "So this is where you come to sketch so 
 often," went on the woman from the motor 
 car. "Delightful place! Pray introduce 
 
 me." 
 
 22
 
 AN UNUSUAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 The artist interposed himself between the 
 two women, almost as though he feared 
 harm to the younger of the two. 
 
 "I'm only a stranger here," he said, while 
 Lady Diana, quite at her ease ignored a sit- 
 uation that to one of another nationality 
 might have been a trifle embarrassing. 
 
 The intruder again swept Lady Diana 
 with her eyes. 
 
 "Indeed," she said, a subtle menace in her 
 tones. "Well, it's lucky I found you. If 
 we are going for our usual spin together, 
 Frangois wants to tell you something about 
 the car the brake doesn't act properly." 
 
 Lady Diana was not pleased with her 
 scrutiny of the other woman. She was too 
 young to have esteemed the other fast, but 
 there was a certain something about the tall 
 and dark intruder that repelled this young 
 Englishwoman. So she continued, though 
 the other talked at her, to seclude herself in 
 her British reserve. 
 
 23
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 To the artist, the situation appeared 
 greatly to need relief. So to create a diver- 
 sion, he walked toward the road where the 
 car and chauffeur were waiting. 
 
 "We'll take it down to the village and 
 look for a blacksmith," he volunteered. 
 
 But the woman who had come for him in 
 the motor did not move. She was still in 
 hope that Lady Diana would recognize her 
 existence. 
 
 "Can't it be done here?" she asked, still 
 eyeing the young English noblewoman and 
 anxious for some offer of aid that would en- 
 able her to make Lady Diana's acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 "Certainly not," returned the artist al- 
 most roughly, "and, besides, here are the 
 horses. The car may frighten them if we 
 leave it in this neighborhood." 
 
 The woman of the motor car looked down 
 L the road and saw the Beverley string being 
 
 24
 
 AN UNUSUAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 led and ridden from the exercising on the 
 Downs. 
 
 "Dear things," she said for Lady Diana's 
 benefit. "How splendidly they look. Race 
 horses, too. I should have loved to see 
 them. I'd no notion that there were any so 
 near to us. To whom do they belong?' 7 
 
 "Lord Beverley," said the artist very 
 shortly indeed. "Come along." 
 
 "Lord Beverley! Really," exclaimed the 
 woman, and then, made bolder by this 
 revelation, she spoke directly to Lady 
 Diana: "I am so sorry we were in the way 
 pray tell Lord Beverley I'll take great 
 care it doesn't happen again." 
 
 But this gracious speech won from the 
 girl only a nod of the head and the singu- 
 larly British irritating "Thank you," with a 
 rising inflection at the end. 
 
 "Please make haste; they are here," the 
 artist cautioned her. 
 
 25
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "Yes, yes, dear," the dark woman re- 
 turned and then smiled at Lady Diana, 
 "Good morning." 
 
 Another little nod of the blond head and 
 a "Thank you" were her only rewards. 
 The artist bowed very impersonally and, 
 with the woman who had come for him, 
 rode down the road. 
 
 Musingly Lady Diana looked after them. 
 
 "I wonder who he is," she said, "and what 
 hold she has on him."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 DIANA THE HUNTRESS 
 
 flTo Lady Diana Sartoris, "the cleanest 
 sportswoman in all England" the orators 
 of the hunt breakfasts of the Beverley 
 Hounds would have it so a fence was 
 merely an obstacle. And so after this morn- 
 ing with the Beverley pack, Lady "Di" on 
 her return to the kennels of her grandfather, 
 the Marquis of Beverley, found a defiant 
 pleasure in putting her hunter over every 
 such obstacle. It was to this delight of 
 hers, therefore, that a little later in the day 
 the unknown artist owed his damaged wrist. 
 Though it was one of those perfect York- 
 shire mornings, when ( rural England seems 
 made for the sportsman, Lady Diana's gal- 
 lop at the heels of the pack had not been al- 
 together of pleasure. 
 
 27
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 To begin with, her grandfather, the pom- 
 pous and morally bombastic Marquis of 
 Beverley, had been in no good humor. Al- 
 though Falconhurst, the most secluded and 
 retired of the several country seats of the 
 family, was filled with the members of a 
 house party specially invited for Lady 
 Diana Sartoris' benefit, Beverley had care- 
 fully warned the guests away from the 
 Downs, and indeed had sent all of them otter 
 hunting with Captain Greville Sartoris, 
 Lady Diana's cousin. 
 
 "And otter hunting of all sports in the 
 world!" Lady Diana had breathed sar- 
 castically to her maid. "One might quite 
 as well hunt a mouse as an otter, you 
 know." 
 
 The reason Lady Diana knew, of course. 
 The Whip, the newest racer in the great 
 stables of Beverley, was being exercised on 
 the Downs that morning and although this 
 expected successor to the Newmarket win- 
 
 28
 
 DIANA THE HUNTRESS 
 
 ners, Silver Cloud, Falconhurst, and Bever- 
 ley's Hope, had not had her trial and was 
 not likely to have for some time, the racing 
 Marquis was determined that no strange 
 eyes should learn anything of the speed pet 
 of his declining years. 
 
 Stable secrets had been leaking of late in 
 regard to some of the others in the string, but 
 none should escape respecting the Whip. 
 
 This prohibition had extended to Lady 
 Diana herself. It was not that through her 
 there was danger of the betting ring getting 
 advance information, but the young girl 
 who shared almost equally in Beverley's 
 affection for the Whip could not have been 
 with the promising filly and her stable 
 mates without being upon the back of the 
 speediest. 
 
 For the girl rode the Whip or any of the 
 other racers in the Beverley stables, as 
 Diana of old hunted, with divine inspira- 
 tion. 
 
 29
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "But the little filly's growing up or 
 rather my granddaughter Lady Diana, is 
 growing up," the Marquis had said more 
 than once, "and a filly isn't a colt, any more 
 rather a young woman of position and 
 rank isn't a girl, and she really can't ride 
 with the lads of my stable." 
 
 So Lady Diana, in the warm rebellion of 
 youth, at the first trammeling appearance of 
 that convention which ultimately molds us 
 all until we lose our little distinguishing 
 essence and become as so many peas, was ir- 
 ritated by this abrupt separation from the 
 things of her childhood. 
 
 Hence this finely strung, perhaps ordi- 
 narily too emotionless, young Englishwoman 
 took the highest and roughest of the ob- 
 stacles in her course as she followed in the 
 wake of the Beverley hounds. For the 
 hounds were not the features of a hunt, but 
 merely out on one of their exercising expe- 
 ditions, when to "keep their scent in" they
 
 DIANA THE HUNTRESS 
 
 were permitted to range for trails under the 
 guidance of whips. 
 
 One of the obstacles which Lady Diana 
 took that morning was a stone fence that sep- 
 arated the lands of Falconhurst from the 
 property of the Earl of Brancaster, in the 
 midst of which stood the old stone tower, 
 Rievers. As her hunter cleared the fencing 
 cleanly and for a moment trespassed up- 
 on the lands of one regarded by the simple 
 folk of Yorkshire as "the wicked earl," the 
 girl looked toward the rocky heights accen- 
 tuated by the feudal tower, continuing to the 
 eye the long upward ascent of stone. 
 
 To her mood of the moment, while Rie- 
 vers appeared less barren and more the 
 abode of a human being, still there was the 
 sinister atmosphere of a place of ill omen, 
 which was not decreased by an open window 
 and the movement of a hanging at one of the 
 casements in the more modern part of the 
 structure.
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 Even with the evidences of a home life 
 about the tower which there were not 
 the place would have worn its air of sullen 
 tragedy, its seeming appearance of a center 
 radiating unwholesome forces. 
 
 Then as she cantered along over a level 
 expanse skirting the eminence upon which 
 Rievers stood, and cast a glance upward oc- 
 casionally, Lady Diana thought of what her 
 grandfather had told her when she was a 
 child. It was shortly after the death in the 
 service of her father, and the death of his 
 comrade, Robert, the Earl of Brancaster, in 
 the same Indian engagement. Her father 
 and Brancaster, sire of the present Bran- 
 caster, had planned that the little Lady 
 Diana and the young Hubert should unite 
 the fortunes and lands of the two almost 
 princely houses. But her father had been 
 killed and his father, too. 
 
 The young Earl, without the repressing 
 authority of a parent, had begun life as a boy 
 
 32
 
 with too much money and no sense of re- 
 sponsibility. His mother had died soon 
 after he was born. He had not been a bad- 
 natured lad, but as a little boy he had been 
 precocious. What, under proper training, 
 would have been clean, clear, pure sports- 
 manship as thorough as that of Lady Diana 
 herself, became in him a mere gaming spirit. 
 He gambled with nice observance of eti- 
 quette and of honor but still he defied 
 chance. As a result he at last found him- 
 self in the hands of the money lenders and 
 what part of Rievers that wasn't entailed 
 was mortgaged. 
 
 There were women, too, in this young 
 man's life, but of these Lady Diana knew 
 nothing. But though they came and went, 
 they never seemed to have penetrated to the 
 core of the young Hubert to infect him with 
 the virus of diseased imagination. The boy 
 seemed asleep and too good natured to put 
 his house in order. His friends predicted 
 
 33
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 that if he ever really aroused himself he 
 would rid himself of his questionable ac- 
 quaintances effectively, cleanly and finally. 
 
 Dismissing the supposedly dissolute, 
 young belted Earl from her thoughts, Lady 
 Diana came to the last fence which sepa- 
 rated her from the glen in which the Falcon- 
 hurst kennels and stables stood. From the 
 level plateau immediately above the glen 
 there floated down to her the shouts of the 
 lads on the backs of the prides of the Mar- 
 quis's stables. Beverley had held the lads 
 in stern repression; but the stimulating air, 
 the vast tonic of nervous horseflesh beneath 
 their knees and the thrill of mad motion 
 could not keep the youngsters entirely silent. 
 
 The fine fire of it all kindled Lady Diana. 
 In the light of her girlhood experiences 
 only such sounds as came to her from the 
 Downs were needed to create vividly in her 
 imagination active pictures of the scenes 
 34
 
 DIANA THE HUNTRESS 
 
 above her. She knew it. She loved it 
 She wanted to be again a part of it. 
 
 In revolt at the things that she dimly 
 sensed as governors of her whole after life, 
 she had put spur to her horse and sent him 
 straight at the high fence, beyond which 
 waited the unknown, in the figure of one 
 who was to play a larger part in Lady 
 Diana's future than either could have ever 
 dreamed. 
 
 35!
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 NO TRESPASSERS 
 
 WHEN the imperious person with the dark 
 hair had borne away her somewhat unen- 
 thusiastic swain, thoughts of the two were 
 out of the mind of Lady Diana before she 
 had formulated any conscious conclusions, 
 for her grandfather's whole string was now 
 led into the yard of the stables. Though 
 Tom Lambert, the trainer of the horses, was 
 nominally in charge of all of the animals, 
 he paid no attention to any save the nervous, 
 skittish creature covered with her horse 
 "clothing" and wearing over it all a horse 
 rug. Lambert in person was leading her. 
 
 "Ah! Tom, there you are why what 
 are you leading the Whip for?" Lady 
 Diana exclaimed as she walked up to the 
 trainer. 
 
 36
 
 NO TRESPASSERS 
 
 "Motor car, my lady!" Lambert ex- 
 plained, taking off his hat. "She don't like 
 
 'em." 
 
 Lady Diana smiled. 
 
 "She's not alone, Tom," she said. 
 
 "No, my lady, but 'owever you 'ates 'em, 
 you can't eat 'em." 
 
 "And I shouldn't try," she laughed. 
 
 "She would, my lady!" the trainer con- 
 tinued, pointing to the horse. "The fitter 
 she gets, the worse she gets. I believe she'd 
 charge a battery an' eat the guns!" 
 
 "Nonsense!" Lady Diana replied, as she 
 went up to the mare and patted her nose. 
 "Nonsense ! It's only because you don't un- 
 derstand her. She's a dear isn't she, 
 Harry?" And she looked up appealingly 
 to the jockey who was stuck to the saddle as 
 if he had grown there. 
 
 "With you, my lady," the boy answered. 
 "And she's all right with me. But a 
 
 37
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 stranger would have a better time trying to 
 tackle a tiger." 
 
 The girl stroked the Whip's neck lov- 
 ingly. 
 
 "They'll find her a lion when they tackle 
 her on the course the first time she runs > 
 won't they, Tom?" She turned to Lambert 
 once more. 
 
 "Yes, my lady." Then, to the jockey 
 "Walk her on, Harry mustn't get cold. 
 This way! The paddock gate's open take 
 the rein, now we're off the road." 
 
 As Harry Anson, the Whip's jockey, 
 turned his prancing mount toward the 
 stables, Lambert held up a warning hand in 
 a gesture of silence to his young mistress. 
 
 "What do you mean, Tom?" Lady Diana 
 exclaimed. 
 
 "The Markis won't let me try 'er yet, 
 my lady, but I believe the Whip's about the 
 best mare as ever looked through a 
 bridle." 
 
 38
 
 NO TRESPASSERS 
 
 "I don't care what she looks through, 
 (Tom, as long as she is the best." 
 
 Lambert shook his head in a pessimistic 
 fashion. 
 
 "But the very best ship is no good with- 
 out the man at the wheel." The trainer 
 looked gloomily at the young girl. 
 
 "Surely Harry is good enough?" There 
 was a world of surprise in her eager eyes. 
 
 "When he's himself," was Lambert's 
 laconic answer. 
 
 "Who else is he?" Lady Diana asked, with 
 a slight frown on her pretty, puzzled face. 
 
 "Don't know, my lady but 'e's a 'ang- 
 dog, mournful sort o' beggar at times, with 
 no spirits and no lip not a bit like our 
 Harry." 
 
 Lady Di laughed blithely. There was a 
 world of relief in her musical voice as she 
 exclaimed : 
 
 "Sounds a bit like our Harry in love!" 
 "No, my lady 1" Lambert said. And then, 
 39
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 in a confidential tone he continued "I did 
 think at one time, as he favored the second 
 kitchen maid, but she was only a flash in the 
 pan. It's worse than that." 
 
 Lady Diana was not averse to a bit of 
 gossip with Tom Lambert, who had been her 
 grandfather's trainer for almost thirty 
 years. 
 
 "Not love? Not money surely?" She 
 was determined that the trainer should be 
 more explicit. 
 
 "Shouldn't have thought it, my lady he's 
 that simple " 
 
 "What else can he have on his mind then, 
 Tom?" 
 
 Lambert threw up his hands in despair. 
 
 " 'Anged if I know, my lady," he replied. 
 "But I don't want it on the Whip's back. 
 Light heart makes light weight. But a 
 bally boy with the blues thinks he's riding 
 
 a 'earse 'orse." 
 
 40
 
 NO TRESPASSERS 
 
 "Oh! But Harry hasn't ridden like that 
 yet!" she protested. 
 
 a No, my lady, not quite," Lambert ad- 
 mitted, "only you see well, then, if any- 
 thing did go wrong with Harry, who else 
 could ride our crack?" 
 
 "Tom!" Lady Diana exclaimed, with an 
 unmistakable note of decision ringing clear 
 in her voice, "we must find out what's the 
 matter." 
 
 "Quietly, my lady I wouldn't speak to 
 the Markis about it just now. He's a bit 
 irritable." 
 
 A troubled look crossed Lady Diana's 
 pretty face. 
 
 "Yes I've noticed it. What's wrong?" 
 And she turned a searching gaze on the 
 trainer's round and ruddy countenance. 
 
 Tom shook his head ominously. Then he 
 glanced hurriedly around to see that there 
 were no eavesdroppers about.
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "Stable mouse has been squeaking," he ex- 
 plained in a low voice. 
 
 "What do you mean?" Lady Diana 
 asked in a tone of exasperation. Her pa- 
 tience was becoming exhausted at Lam- 
 bert's mysterious hints and peculiar man- 
 ner. 
 
 "Stable secrets getting out, my lady * 
 that's what I mean, to put it plain." Tom's 
 fat face was worried into puckers. 
 
 "What! again? But I don't know why 
 grandfather minds. He only races for the 
 love of it. But it is strange." 
 
 "It is, my lady," Lambert hastened to say, 
 in much excitement. "Licks me 'ollow! 
 Gives his lordship touts on the brain! Do 
 'arf our work before daylight and if 'e sees 
 a bush waggle 'e sends the 'orses 'ome and 
 still if we've anything worth backing some- 
 body always knows. It's on 'is nerves, my 
 lady. Why, the other morning he caught 
 poor old Mother Griffiths near the Downs 
 
 42
 
 NO TRESPASSERS 
 
 picking mushrooms ninety in the shade she 
 is and blind as a kitten but he swore if she 
 did it again blest if he wouldn't raise her 
 rent! And then cussed at 'er just as if 'e was 
 talking to a bloomin' telephone! B'lieve 
 he thinks there's touts in the stable chimbley 
 touts in the corn-bin touts down the rab- 
 bit-'oles an' touts a 'overing over'ead in 
 'eavenly aeroplanes whenever the 'orses so 
 much as goes out for a walk. It's toutitis, 
 my lady, and I'm catching it myself a 'orri- 
 ble illness, which I 'ave known drive even 
 married men to drink!" 
 
 Lady Diana burst into peals of silvery 
 laughter. 
 
 "As bad as that!" she cried. "Well, Tom, 
 we must do our best to cure my grandfather 
 at once." 
 
 "Yes, my lady," Tom replied. "Ah ! here 
 he is now!" 
 
 As Lambert spoke, Lady Diana's grand- 
 father, the Marquis of Beverley, came rid- 
 43
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 ing into the yard in a village cart, driven by 
 the Honorable Mrs. Beamish, the middle- 
 aged, distant cousin of Lady Diana, and her 
 companion. 
 
 The Marquis looked angrily up the road 
 along which the strange automobile had 
 borne away the artist and his insistent com- 
 panion. 
 
 "Di! Dil" the Marquis called, with some 
 heat. 
 
 "Yes, dear?" The caress in Lady 
 Diana's answer was unmistakable. She 
 helped the fine looking, elderly man out of 
 the cart, as he asked, with impatience: 
 
 "Who are those people in that confounded 
 motor thing?" 
 
 "Strangers, dear at least, to me!" she re- 
 plied. 
 
 "They looked like a man and a woman," 
 her grandfather sputtered. 
 
 "Yes, I thought so too," she answered teas- 
 ingly. 
 
 44
 
 NO TRESPASSERS 
 
 "Don't be silly, Di ! What were they do- 
 ing?" 
 
 "I think she came to pick him up. He is 
 an artist. I have seen him several times 
 sketching." 
 
 "Here?" And the Marquis' face grew a 
 bit red. 
 
 "Yes by the Bourne." 
 
 "Well, I won't have it!" he exploded. 
 "You hear me? Give orders, Tom for all 
 we know the feller's a tout confounded 
 tout of the worst possible description !" 
 
 "He does not look it," Lady Diana said, 
 quietly. 
 
 "They never do," the Marquis interposed, 
 firmly. "Remember that chap who came 
 here last year playin' the photographer?" 
 
 Mrs. Beamish nodded vigorously to her 
 esteemed relative. 
 
 "Yes, there you are," she put in. "An- 
 other artist " 
 
 "Quite so," said the Marquis, finding an 
 45
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 appreciative audience. "Actually snapping 
 the string at exercise then bringin' an ac- 
 tion against me for assault and battery!" 
 
 "After you put him under the stable 
 pump, Lord Beverley," the Honorable Mrs. 
 Beamish added, with emphasis. 
 
 "And broke his camera over his head and 
 nearly broke his neck!" Lady Diana 
 laughed, unable to restrain her amusement 
 
 "Well ! what did he expect?" the Marquis 
 asked, with some show of surprise. 
 
 Tom Lambert came loyally to the sup- 
 port of his master. 
 
 "Quite right, my lord! No good having 
 a dark horse if all the world knows it!" 
 
 "And they shan't know till the Two Thou- 
 sand's over and we've won it!" The Mar- 
 quis' heart was set on winning the classic 
 that took its name from the two thousand 
 guineas of prize money that it offered an- 
 nually to the winner. 
 
 "Rather! But er we don't know as 
 46
 
 NO TRESPASSERS 
 
 we shall for sure till we try the mare, my 
 lord. I do wish, sir, that you'd let us see 
 what she can do against a good 'un." Lam- 
 bert hung expectantly on the Marquis' 
 words. 
 
 "Plenty of time for that, Tom we don't 
 want to leave the race on the trial ground 
 but we'll have no touts or trespassers on 
 any ground." That the Marquis of Bever- 
 ley was accustomed to having his own way 
 in the world was unmistakable. 
 
 "Well, Grand-dad, you needn't trouble 
 about this trespasser. I know he's an ar- 
 tist." Lady Diana put her hand lovingly 
 upon her grandfather's arm. The proud 
 old gentleman's face lit up as he looked down 
 at her fondly and he said, gently 
 
 "My dear, he wouldn't show his hand to 
 you." 
 
 "He's shown me his sketch book, Grand- 
 father." 
 
 "You've talked to him, then, Di?" 
 47
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "Several times 
 
 "My dear, what about?" he expostu- 
 lated. 
 
 "About art scenery the hounds " she 
 explained. 
 
 "But not about the 'orses, my lady?" Lam- 
 bert interrupted. 
 
 "We didn't mention the horses!" 
 
 Mrs. Beamish cast a significant look at 
 Lambert and remarked, sarcastically 
 
 "What a dull conversation!" 
 
 The Marquis of Beverley disregarded 
 Mrs. Beamish's sarcasm, and he patted Lady 
 Diana's hand as he said gently 
 
 "Well, don't do it again, dear, please. I 
 don't like strangers especially about the 
 horses." 
 
 "You don't like anyone near them, Grand- 
 father. We've got a house full of friends, 
 but you send them all away to hunt otters 
 with Greville and practically warn them off 
 the Downs." Lady Diana's hospitable soul 
 
 48
 
 NO TRESPASSERS 
 
 had often been hurt by her Grandfather's 
 high-handed treatment of guests. 
 
 "Seems a bit churlish I dare say, Di, 
 but I race for myself, not the crowd. Don't 
 forget our old saying 'A Yorkshireman's 
 house is his friend's, but a Yorkshireman's 
 horse is his own.' I'll never let our horses 
 be turned into public betting machines if 
 I can help it so no more talks with stran- 
 gers, Di, you understand me." And with a 
 gesture of finality the strong-willed old gen- 
 tleman drew Lady Diana with him toward 
 the stables. 
 
 Tom Lambert turned to Mrs. Beamish 
 with a most confidential manner. 
 
 "And a good thing, too, if I may say so, 
 Mrs. B.," he remarked. 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "You know how free Lady Di is," Lam- 
 bert explained. "She'll pass the time o' day 
 with anyone of course at her age she don't 
 know no better." 
 
 49
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "I know she knows no worse," Mrs. Bea- 
 mish retorted with a slight rasp in her voice. 
 
 "But the other party may," said the 
 trainer, in a low voice. 
 
 "Lambert!" 
 
 "Well, I say artists ain't no class to come 
 hanging round after Lady Di," Tom has- 
 tened to add. 
 
 "There are artists and artists 
 
 "That's my meaning, Mrs. B. p'raps 
 this one's worse than usual." 
 
 "Thank goodness I have a pure mind," 
 was Mrs. Beamish's acid retort. 
 
 The insinuation wasted itself upon Tom 
 Lambert's sensibilities, which were not ex- 
 actly of the aesthetic variety. 
 
 "I wonder what those two were talking 
 about," he said, thoughtfully. 
 
 "What two?" Mrs. Beamish inquired. 
 
 "Why, Lady Di and that artist chap, of 
 course if he didn't come here after the 
 horses what did he come after?" 
 
 50
 
 NO TRESPASSERS 
 
 "Tom Lambert I'm afraid you've got a 
 suspicious mind," Mrs. Beamish informed 
 him. 
 
 "Well, I won't conceal from you, Mrs. B., 
 that a racing stable ain't a place that in- 
 spires you with much confidence in human 
 nature, and when I hear of a young man 
 talking to a young woman and she is a 
 young woman " 
 
 "Don't talk nonsense, Tom " 
 
 "I don't I put two and two together " 
 
 "When there's only one and one " Mrs. 
 Beamish interposed with a somewhat vicious 
 emphasis. 
 
 "My experience teaches me " Lambert 
 continued, ignoring the thrust. 
 
 "If I were you, Tom Lambert, I should 
 feel a bit delicate about referring to my ex- 
 perience." And Mrs. Beamish turned her 
 back upon the now discomfited Lambert. 
 
 "I've seen you," she continued, "talking 
 with a certain young woman."
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "What young woman?" asked Tom, with 
 mouth open in astonishment. 
 
 "Myrtle Anson I've seen you!" 
 
 "Well, I like that!" Lambert gasped. 
 
 "It looked it! Catch you doing it if you 
 didn't trust a man not that I do " 
 
 "Don't you trust me Mrs. B., after all 
 these years?" Tom's eyes, as well as his 
 yoice, spoke endless devotion. 
 
 "Tom Lambert, I won't conceal from you 
 that a man about a racing stable is not one 
 who inspires me with unlimited confidence." 
 
 It was quite apparent that the temperature 
 in Mrs. Beamish's vicinity was rapidly ap- 
 proaching the freezing point. 
 
 "Well, I'm blest!" Lambert remon- 
 strated. "Just because I had a few words 
 with the girl to ask her what's the matter 
 with young Harry." 
 
 "H'm! I hope Old Harry had nothing 
 to do with it!" 
 
 52
 
 NO TRESPASSERS 
 
 "Betty!" And Tom moved nearer to the 
 object of his affection. 
 
 "Mrs. Beamish, if you please " said the 
 outraged lady with a toss of her head. 
 
 "Mrs. Beamish honorable madam 
 you're jealous!" the trainer exclaimed, de- 
 lighted that it was so. 
 
 "Of you? I? Never!" returned the 
 flame of his youth. 
 
 "Not now, perhaps," he returned, tempo- 
 rizing. "But in the old days don't you re- 
 member how wild you was with me about 
 little Susie Dobbs when you and me was 
 keeping company " 
 
 "We never kept company," returned the 
 Hon. Mrs. Beamish, furious. 
 
 "Well, if we didn't, then we ought to have 
 kept company," answered the literal Tom, 
 "with me walking out with you and kissing 
 you." 
 
 "Once only, and by accident," cut in the 
 53
 
 elderly flame of days when the Beverley sta- 
 bles were smaller. 
 
 "Well, I suppose a collision's an accident, 
 but I liked it and so did you," said Lam- 
 bert. 
 
 "I didn't," denied Mrs. Beamish. 
 
 "You and I were happy," went on the 
 Whip's master, "till Beamish came along 
 and you got taken with him. I can't forget 
 you, Betty, and what might have hap- 
 pened. Don't you ever remember, Betty, 
 before you was a great lady?" 
 
 The air of the woman toward Tom was 
 kinder that it had been for some time. 
 
 "I'm not a great lady, Tom," she said 
 gently, for one of her vigorous personality. 
 "I'm a poor relation, though Lord Beverley 
 doesn't treat me like one but I am! I'm 
 lady Di's companion and distant cousin by 
 marriage. I'm a sort of female major-domo 
 of the household and I'm very happy, 
 Tom. I'm not a snob, but I've got to re- 
 
 54
 
 NO TRESPASSERS 
 
 member that I'm the Honorable Mrs. 
 Beamish that I'm Lord Beverley's cousin 
 by marriage that he looks upon me as one 
 of the family that I mustn't disgrace it by 
 -by" 
 
 "Thinking of the likes of me," said Tom 
 sadly. "All you think of is that you've mar- 
 ried into a noble family not that you came 
 out of of a h'm " 
 
 "Out of a shop. Oh, you needn't mind 
 saying it. I'm not ashamed of it." 
 
 "Why should you be?" went on Lambert. 
 "Ah, they don't make shops like that nowa- 
 days. I can see it now as if it was yester- 
 day, and smell it. And what apples your 
 mother did sell. Many's the time she's give 
 me one when I was a nipper. Lord! I 
 wish Captain Beamish had never been 
 quartered in our town never set eyes on 
 you." 
 
 "I made him a good wife, Tom," said 
 Betty, a shade of regret in her voice. 
 
 55
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "I'll be bound you did! But you'd have 
 made me a better, if only you hadn't been 
 educated above your station. I mean above 
 mine. Ain't it no good my hoping, Betty?" 
 
 A trifle sadly the Hon. Mrs. Beamish 
 smiled as she said, with an air meant to be 
 final: 
 
 "No good, Tom! If ever I feel weak I 
 take down the Peerage and look up Beverley 
 Geoffrey Vandeleur Delacroix George 
 Jocelyn, tenth Marquis of and it 
 strengthens me to do my duty in that station 
 of life." 
 
 "To which it did not please God to call 
 you," supplemented Tom Lambert decis- 
 ively when she hesitated. 
 
 Realizing the futility of further argu- 
 ment, Mrs. Beamish made her way toward 
 the great house, leaving poor Tom to extract 
 such comfort as he could from his beloved 
 horses. 
 
 56
 
 A MOUSE IN THE STABLE 
 
 ALL the morning Capt. Greville Sartoris, the 
 cousin of Lady Diana, and the heir to the 
 Beverley title, though the fortune would go 
 to the Marquis's granddaughter, had led the 
 greater portion of the house party in an otter 
 hunt. 
 
 Now, with the hounds that they had taken 
 for their rather tame hunt in full cry, they 
 were pursuing a large she-otter the dogs had 
 started. Through the open the little crea- 
 ture fled, followed by the yelping pack not 
 that, of course, with which Lady Diana had 
 run and the party of men and women on 
 foot with their savage otter spears. 
 
 The animal had found its courses along 
 the little stream no longer in their accus- 
 tomed solitude, so now she seemed to feel 
 
 57
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 that there would be safety in going toward 
 the spots never deserted. 
 
 In any event she broke cover completely 
 and made for the kennels and stables, still, 
 however, keeping close to the east bank of 
 the Bourne. 
 
 Across the stable yard the small pursued 
 object scurried in an effort to get far enough 
 away to make a dive into a deep pool there. 
 Over the retaining walls and other obstacles 
 in their path leaped the men of the party. 
 Sartoris was first, but after he had made 
 one frenzied lunge with his spear he real- 
 ized that the otter had escaped. 
 
 With an exclamation of anger he buried 
 his spear in the ground, and then looked up 
 to find the amused but scornful eyes of his 
 cousin upon him. 
 
 "Don't, Greville, it's horrible," the girl 
 exclaimed, while her grandfather was show- 
 ing the fox hounds and some of his famous 
 racing string to the visitors. 
 
 58
 
 A MOUSE IN THE STABLE 
 
 "What is?" Sartoris asked, not realizing 
 that the girl was condemning a pastime that 
 he regarded as sport. 
 
 ''Otter killing like that otter hunt- 
 ing," she answered. 
 
 "But you like fox hunting?" went on Sar- 
 toris in the bland tones of surprise of the 
 Englishman of his wiry type, with his wisp 
 of a mustache and his weak appearing fig- 
 ure, which hid considerable skilled strength. 
 "You like to see a draggled, beaten fox torn 
 to pieces alive." 
 
 "No, I don't," interrupted the girl. 
 
 "But it's done," went on the man. 
 
 "I know," said the girl. "That's why if 
 I were a man I'd ride nothing but steeple- 
 chases. I love a run best when the fox gets 
 clean away. I love a race with neither 
 whip nor spur! I love sport and in the 
 best sport there's no pain!" 
 
 It was for such speeches as that and 
 actions, too that they called Lady Di-
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 ana "the cleanest sportswoman in all Eng- 
 land." 
 
 "Not if you're beaten?" questioned the 
 cousin. 
 
 "Not if you played fair," said the girl. 
 
 Her cousin was moved to reveal almost 
 unconsciously some of that queer sporting 
 philosophy which sustained him in the some- 
 what questionable practices which were al- 
 ready being commented upon in his London 
 clubs. 
 
 "I confess I have a weakness for win- 
 ning," he said with an air of frankness. 
 "Whatever the odds in your favor, there is 
 a certain pleasure in pursuit in getting 
 home." 
 
 As to give emphasis to his words, he drove 
 the head of his spear into the ground. He 
 raised his eyes and, with a start, found 
 Myrtle Anson, the young sister of Harry 
 Anson, the Whip's jockey, near him. She 
 
 60
 
 A MOUSE IN THE STABLE 
 
 had come quietly into the yard and, as if 
 moved by an impulse of her budding wom- 
 an's heart that she could not entirely con- 
 trol, had gone straight toward Sartoris. 
 Lady Diana had not seen the girl, for the 
 back of the Marquis's granddaughter was 
 turned to this more humble young woman. 
 
 For a moment Sartoris regarded the girl, 
 then with a slight move of his shoulders he 
 turned away. Myrtle Anson, seemingly cut 
 to the heart, sank on a rock at the edge of 
 the stream and continued to watch him with 
 eyes of love. 
 
 This little bit of by-play had consumed 
 but a moment, and while it was taking place 
 and Sartoris was still eyeing the sister of the 
 jockey, Lady Diana was replying to his last 
 observation: 
 
 "There's pleasure in getting home? On 
 a weak thing that can't defend itself or 
 strike back?" 
 
 61
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 Her words seemed to the sick conscience 
 of Sartoris to hold a double entendre, and 
 he looked sharply at his cousin. 
 
 "Eh?" he exclaimed, suspiciously and ex- 
 pectantly. 
 
 But Lady Diana, who had noticed noth- 
 ing and was but speaking of the immediate 
 subject before them, went on : 
 
 "I mean a weak thing like an otter. In 
 sport there must be a fair chance." 
 
 It was with genuine relief that Sartoris 
 answered: 
 
 "I know, but I prefer lowest weight in 
 life's handicap a shade of odds in my fa- 
 vor, when I'm trying to win. But you're 
 a girl and mix sentiment with your sport- 
 ing." 
 
 The women of the house party now 
 claimed the attention of Lady Diana as they 
 called upon her to explain the points of 
 some of the racers. About them during 
 this time the anxious Marquis hovered. 
 
 62
 
 A MOUSE IN THE STABLE 
 
 He had ordered the Whip put in a locked 
 box stall, and not even the most charming 
 entreaties of the fairest of his guests could 
 induce him to unlock the door. 
 
 With a furtive glance about him, Sar- 
 toris walked toward Myrtle Anson sitting 
 like a lowly muse of tragedy by the Bourne. 
 This quick glance of Sartoris was by no 
 means a precaution, for he knew that the 
 few words that he might publicly exchange 
 with the pretty sister of the jockey would 
 not cause any comment, but his act was one 
 of instinct. There was something furtive 
 and almost sinister about this sportsman who 
 took care to win when he could without 
 causing too much of a scandal, and his rapid 
 survey of the position of his equals was the 
 tribute to his own caution. 
 
 But the first words he spoke to the girl 
 were ordinary enough. He disliked "emo- 
 tion and all that sort of nonsense, you know," 
 and he did not often exhibit it 
 
 63
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "Morning, Miss Anson. Been botaniz- 
 ing again?" he asked, lifting his hat and 
 pointing to a leather case she carried slung 
 over her shoulder. 
 
 "Yes," said the girl in a dull monotone. 
 
 "Up on the Wold?" he asked, lowering 
 his voice with that cautious instinct, though 
 there was no one to hear them. 
 
 "How I could see the Wold," said the 
 girl, meaning creeping between her words. 
 
 "With glasses?" he persisted. 
 
 For answer the girl showed him a pair of 
 field glasses concealed in the case. 
 
 "Anything worth seeing?" 
 
 Bitterly she replied: 
 
 "No opponent Silver Shoe the Rover 
 and the Whip a striding gallop, but noth- 
 ing like a trial." 
 
 There was that in her voice which would 
 have told an expert in human nature that 
 the girl despised herself for what she was 
 
 64
 
 A MOUSE IN THE STABLE 
 
 doing, but that she could not resist the de- 
 mands of this man. 
 
 But the cousin of Lady Diana did not 
 honor the girl with the slightest concern for 
 her feeling. He was thinking only of the 
 horses and of how many times he had won 
 handily because of some bit of stable in- 
 formation he had been able to extract from 
 the girl. 
 
 "I wonder if their dark horse is worth 
 anything?" he went on, his gambler's sense 
 playing in and out of a series of calcula- 
 tions as to odds and weights. "What a pile 
 one could win if one knew ! Twenty to one I 
 Look here, Myrtle, you can pump your 
 brother, if you like. He must know." 
 
 "He won't tell," said the girl, almost sul- 
 lenly. 
 
 The tone of the Captain was kinder, now 
 that he had found something that the girl 
 could do for him. 
 
 65;
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "You can make him," he said. 
 
 "I can't," she answered, her breast rising 
 and falling. "I believe he suspects " 
 
 "You?" 
 
 "You." 
 
 "Me?" exclaimed Sartoris. 
 
 There was self-loathing, accusation and 
 defiance of all the world in the girl's face. 
 
 "You and me," she said slowly, but almost 
 savagely. 
 
 But if he felt any impending danger at 
 her words Sartoris did not show it. There 
 was almost bantering humor in his face, as 
 the girl hurried on in little panting gasps: 
 
 "My brother used to tell me everything. 
 When he told me stable secrets I told you 
 I have been a traitor to him and a traitor 
 to them all I have betrayed Lady Di, 
 whom I love I have sold out Lord Bever- 
 ley, who gave us a home and everything we 
 have in the world and I have forgotten 
 all that and have sold him out sold him out 
 
 66
 
 A MOUSE IN THE STABLE 
 
 for nothing at all nothing in the whole 
 wide world. A girl only does that for one 
 reason, and my brother knows that." 
 
 With white fury Sartoris turned upon her. 
 For a moment it seemed as though he would 
 hurl at her the heavy spear in his hand. 
 
 "You've told him?" he demanded sav- 
 agely. 
 
 Myrtle faced him bravely, but in a mo- 
 ment her head drooped. 
 
 "No I haven't turned traitor to you, 
 Greville," she said brokenly. 
 
 Into the whole manner of the Captain 
 there came a great change. He was as near 
 to pity as his shallow nature ever permitted 
 as he said fervently: 
 
 "Of course, you haven't, little Myrtle." 
 
 Instantly the jockey's sister moved closer 
 to him. He took one quick step backward 
 and his tone became lighter as he hurried 
 on to bridge the gap of emotion: 
 
 "But, come, now, don't talk heroics
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 about traitors and things. Beverley never 
 bets. If the wide world knew his stable 
 secrets it would do no harm. If you give 
 me a tip or two heaven knows I want it 
 badly enough who's hurt?" 
 
 "I am," said the girl, much of her resis- 
 tance gone because of his few kindly words 
 of the moment, too soon passed. "And I 
 shan't do it again." 
 
 "Nonsense! You'll tell me when the 
 Whip's tried." 
 
 "I shan't be here to see." 
 
 "No?" 
 
 "No I can't stay here much longer, I 
 dare not" 
 
 "Nonsense, where will you go?" 
 
 "Isn't that for you to say? Haven't you 
 promised?" 
 
 Sartoris shrugged his shoulders, and then 
 became aware that Harry Anson was stand- 
 ing near the main door of the stables with 
 anxious, speculative eyes upon him. He 
 
 68
 
 A MOUSE IN THE STABLE 
 
 left Myrtle and strolled toward the stable. 
 His eyes for a moment looked keenly into 
 the face of the boy, and then, with a sud- 
 den, unwilling movement of his head, he 
 turned aside, unable, despite his wonderful 
 customary self-control, to face Myrtle's 
 brother. 
 
 But Harry Anson's eyes did not waver.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE ACCIDENT 
 
 LORD BEVERLEY was worried over something 
 the women of his granddaughter's house 
 party had told him. They had described 
 the course of the otter hunt and this descrip- 
 tion had displeased him exceedingly, though 
 he was at much pains not to let the women 
 see it. Accordingly, he went straight to 
 Captain Sartoris, whom he instinctively dis- 
 liked, though he tried to overcome that feel- 
 ing. 
 
 "Greville," exclaimed the Marquis, "I'm 
 afraid from what I hear that you went tres- 
 passing this morning." 
 
 "Oh, did we?" exclaimed Sartoris, lightly, 
 not attaching much importance to the opin- 
 ions of the racing Marquis upon any sub- 
 ject. 
 
 70
 
 THE ACCIDENT 
 
 "Yes, from beyond the bend where the 
 Bourne winds through the Brancaster prop- 
 erty," Beverley continued, in a modified 
 tone. 
 
 "Of course so it does," answered Sar- 
 toris. "Well, we didn't go far. Surely it 
 doesn't matter. As a neighbor Brancaster 
 wouldn't object." 
 
 Beverley frowned as he went on in his 
 ponderous and bombastic tone: 
 
 "He's a neighbor to whom I object cer- 
 tainly not one from whom I'd ask favors." 
 
 One of the women of the house party, 
 Lady Antrobus, had overheard the two men 
 use the name Brancaster. Of Lady Antro- 
 bus it had been said that "she rushed in 
 where well, you know, my dear." Her 
 shrewish curiosity made her anxious to 
 know what they were saying of Brancaster, 
 so, despite the breeding of her line, she in- 
 terjected herself into the conversation. 
 
 "Lord Brancaster will have to sell the
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 Rievers for a song if he goes on racing so 
 desperately," she said. 
 
 She was an old neighbor of the Mar- 
 quis, and her chance touching upon a hobby 
 of Beverley aroused his ire. 
 
 "Pardon me," said he, "betting so desper- 
 ately. Gambling is not racing." 
 
 "He's a wonderfully cool gambler," went 
 on the chatty tongue of his feminine neigh- 
 bor. "I saw him at Sandown last Autumn 
 betting over the rail with all the bookmak- 
 ers on the other side raging at him like a 
 pack of wolves." 
 
 Sartoris himself had taken the other end 
 of some of these bets, and his smile was rue- 
 ful as he put in: 
 
 "With Kelly, the Leviathan, leading 
 them, hurling the odds at his head in thou- 
 sands." 
 
 It was plain that Lady Antrobus, who had 
 known of Brancaster since he was a boy, had 
 a sort of admiration for him. 
 
 72
 
 THE ACCIDENT 
 
 "And he never turned a hair," she went 
 on. "I believe he loves the excitement." 
 
 The failure of the plan of the father of 
 Lady Diana and of Brancaster had left a 
 deep bitterness in the heart of Beverley. 
 The good man's bark was worse than his 
 bite, however. 
 
 The Marquis felt that a man of his own 
 position and morality owed it to the world 
 to point out every horrible example, even if 
 that example were the son of an old family 
 friend. "For how otherwise can the rising 
 generation get the proper moral perspec- 
 tive?" he had asked more than once. 
 
 So now he did not hesitate, though he was 
 well aware that his utterances would place 
 him in the light of seeming rather less of a 
 gentleman than he was, in the minds of those 
 who might not understand his real feeling in 
 this and related matters. 
 
 "He won't love paying for it," he 
 said, "and for his other follies" Even 
 
 73
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 Beverley felt that he was going too far. 
 
 But the mind of Lady Antrobus was alert 
 for any bit of gossip. 
 
 "Are they so very costly?" she continued, 
 hoping to open the doors of the Marquis's 
 indignation. 
 
 But Lord Beverley glanced at Lady 
 Diana not very far off. Then he coughed, 
 as he returned hesitatingly: 
 
 "Hem er I have heard so." 
 
 Mrs. Antrobus added fuel to what she 
 felt was a flame about to expire. 
 
 "I've only met him once," she said, with 
 the air of one contradicting the Marquis, 
 "and I thought he'd charming manners and 
 was quite good looking. Every youngster 
 must sow his wild oats, you know, my dear 
 Marquis." 
 
 Lady Antrobus had partially succeeded. 
 Beverley did not, it is true, add to her fund 
 of knowledge regarding the escapades of 
 Brancaster, but he did express his own opin- 
 
 74
 
 THE ACCIDENT 
 
 ion most forcibly, though in his somewhat 
 stilted phrase. 
 
 "Certainly, let him sow all the wild oats 
 he wishes," he said, "but not in my garden. 
 If you women of position in social England 
 did your duty, a boy like Brancaster would 
 be cut. Yes, and we men are just as much 
 to blame too, for we should cut him for your 
 sakes. We smile too much and look the 
 other way in these days. Many a youngster 
 would be saved from perdition if his elders 
 only spoke out as men and gentlemen should 
 speak, as I myself would speak to Brancas- 
 ter, if he ever came here. 
 
 "If we all acted as we should in regard 
 to these spendthrift boys and these wastrels 
 more than half of them would turn from 
 their folly and become worthy of their an- 
 cestors. If Brancaster ever came to Fal- 
 conhurst I would not hesitate to say to him: 
 While my women folk live in my house, 
 you are not welcome within it.' ' 
 
 75
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 Lady Antrobus sighed at thought of the 
 young Earl, who was so unwelcome in the 
 home of the friends of his father. She 
 might have returned to the attack, but at 
 this moment a loud cry from Captain Ray- 
 ner, one of the men of the house party, drew 
 not only her attention but that of Beverley 
 and all the rest as well. 
 
 Rayner was standing near the highway, 
 which passed not very far from a corner 
 of the stables, and he was looking upward 
 along the tortuous course of the road as it 
 steadily mounted to the highlands. 
 
 Down that road from the plateau above, 
 a large touring automobile was rushing, 
 swaying from side to side as the man at the 
 wheel desperately took the many turns in 
 the course. There was a woman beside 
 him. Suddenly she arose and screamed. 
 A moment later she had jumped from 
 the car, and was standing in safety in the
 
 THE ACCIDENT 
 
 road watching the terrifying descent of the 
 automobile. 
 
 Not all of the women in the group at the 
 Falconhurst stables saw the woman after she 
 had left the lurching vehicle, as some of 
 them were too occupied with their own fears 
 and terrors. For gradually, after their first 
 moments of amazement, they realized that 
 the car was beyond control. 
 
 After the woman jumped the man looked 
 backward for just a fleeting instant as 
 though assuring himself that she was safe. 
 Then he doubled over his wheel. 
 
 To the autoists among the watchers it was 
 soon apparent that the man in the car pos- 
 sessed no means of checking its momentum. 
 Plainly the brakes were not working. As 
 he came nearer and nearer to them they 
 could see that he was fumbling with his 
 change gear lever, in an effort to throw the 
 reverse into mesh and check the car. But 
 77
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 something stuck and the gears did not en- 
 gage. The Lady Diana moved closer to the 
 road, her face white, but self-possessed. 
 She thought that she recognized the staunch 
 figure in the car, which through some deep- 
 seated instinct of sportsmanship did not, and 
 had not, attempted to leave its seat. 
 
 Making a megaphone of her hands she 
 called up : 
 
 "Throw in your first throw in your first 
 that'll slacken you." 
 
 But even before she spoke the man in the 
 car had been attempting to do so. The 
 lever shot forward, and then before he 
 could try to mesh the gears, the car ca- 
 reened on two wheels. The rider's hand 
 was forced to quit the lever and with his 
 other hand grasp more firmly the wheel. 
 
 He rounded the curve and literally fell, 
 car and man, down the last descent that sep- 
 parated him from the bit of road beside the 
 Falconhurst stables. Now he seemed to 
 
 78
 
 THE ACCIDENT 
 
 have clear sailing, for the road ran straight, 
 and half a mile beyond the stables there was 
 a slight rise that would be more than suffi- 
 cient to check the speed of the car, intense 
 though it was. 
 
 As the car and man blurred past Lady 
 Diana she thought she caught from the car 
 the words, "Thank you," and the flash of a 
 hand waved in the air. 
 
 The next instant there was a thunderous 
 crash, followed by the manifold and multi- 
 tudinous sounds of separate mechanisms of 
 metal being rent asunder all in one second, 
 yet following one another in minute frac- 
 tions of that second. 
 
 The eye of the rider must have 'deviated 
 from his course in that brief moment when 
 he had waved his hand and called his thanks 
 to the girl who had had the presence of 
 mind to shout to him the only thing possible 
 in that crisis. 
 
 His car, deviating ever so slightly in that 
 79
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 instant, had rushed into the stone corner of 
 the bridge just at the side of the footpath. 
 It lay in fragments and twisted bits of metal. 
 The man, hurled to the middle of the high- 
 way, sprawled there, bleeding and uncon- 
 scious. 
 
 For a long moment men and women stood 
 without moving. Then Rayner and Bever- 
 ley broke the spell, and a half dozen of them 
 darted forward, took up the form in the 
 road and carried it into the stable yard. 
 Upon her arm Lady Diana received the 
 limp, hanging head, as they put the man 
 upon the ground. 
 
 "Quick, Lambert, some brandy," ordered 
 Beverley to the Whip's trainer. 
 
 "Grandfather, he's dying," Lady Diana 
 exclaimed pityingly. 
 
 Then she looked long into the face. 
 
 "It's the stranger, my artist," she said, a 
 vast sadness falling upon her as she saw the 
 wrist, lying there limp, upon which not so 
 
 80
 
 THE ACCIDENT 
 
 long before her hunter had set its mark. 
 He had laughed so blithely and had taken 
 so good-naturedly what had seemed to her 
 a matter of so much concern, and here he lay 
 dead, or dying. Poor stranger! Poor art- 
 ist! But a step from laughter to death! she 
 reflected sadly. 
 
 Now Lambert had brought the brandy 
 but he did not hand it to the Marquis as he 
 caught sight of the poor, pale face. 
 
 "My lord, it's the man we thought a tout," 
 he said to his employer. 
 
 "I can't help that," answered Beverley im- 
 patiently. "The pony cart, quick! The 
 man's hurt. We must take him to the house 
 at once at once!" 
 
 Captain Sartoris had been looking into 
 the face of the inert stranger on the ground 
 for several moments in a puzzled fashion. 
 He knew that he knew the man, but the 
 banishment of consciousness had made such 
 a difference in the features that for the mo- 
 
 8 1
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 ment he could not identify them. Suddenly 
 he made an exclamation. 
 
 "Good heavens, cousin! Do you see who 
 this is?" came from him as his memory 
 cleared. 
 
 The Marquis looked at the man on the 
 ground and then into the face of the Cap- 
 tain, an unspoken inquiry in his own eyes. 
 
 Sartoris took a deep breath, the better to 
 subdue his own lively astonishment. 
 
 "It's it's Brancaster," he said. 
 
 82
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE TIME AND THE PARSON 
 
 FOR six days now Lord Brancaster had lain 
 in one of the lofty old bed-chambers of the 
 ancient house of Falconhurst. He had not 
 regained consciousness for a moment since 
 the day of the accident. 
 
 Despite the words of censure the Marquis 
 of Beverley had spoken of the Earl of Bran- 
 caster there was nothing for him to do now 
 save to try to efface them in every possible 
 way. 
 
 Beverley had done more than the situation 
 demanded. It was as if the injury which 
 had fallen upon the Earl had wiped out all 
 the past and had brought to the old racing 
 nobleman a renewed consciousness of the 
 brotherhood of man. The most noted phy- 
 sicians and surgeons of London had been 
 
 83
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 summoned by him, and Sir Andrew Beck, 
 whose very retaining cast a distinction upon 
 any family able to induce the great surgeon 
 to visit them, was even now in consultation 
 with some half dozen of the kingdom's 
 greatest surgical experts. There was a 
 question as to whether they would try an 
 operation in the hope of relieving the pres- 
 sure upon the patient's brain, but the consen- 
 sus of opinion was against it. 
 
 The chamber in which Brancaster lay had 
 been the abode of more than one fugitive 
 nobleman in the days of the Commonwealth, 
 which had followed the ascendency of the 
 Puritans after the execution of Charles I, 
 and there was a well-authenticated legend 
 that "Bonnie Prince Charlie" himself had 
 once been sheltered there when there was a 
 price upon his head. 
 
 But certainly never before had the old 
 apartment occupied by the unconscious 
 Branfaster had a more lovely aspect. There 
 
 84
 
 THE TIME 
 
 were flowers everywhere, but not in the pro- 
 fusion that would have meant annoyance to 
 the ill man had he been conscious of them. 
 There were lilies of the valley in the old 
 stone vase, built into the ancient, disused 
 fireplace. Their white loveliness was ac- 
 centuated by the long trailing vines that 
 formed their background. For Lady Di- 
 ana had seen to the comfort and decoration 
 of the apartment of the man she was sure 
 could not be entirely bad. 
 
 The accident to this young man in the 
 prime of his life had done much to soften 
 her pride of the very young, and she realized 
 that her judgment was harsh. 
 
 In these days she accepted nearly every- 
 thing without question. When the woman 
 she had seen with Brancaster, on the day he 
 was known to her merely as the artist, called 
 at Falconhurst and asked to be allowed to sit 
 by the side of the unconscious man, the girl 
 had led her without question to the bed- 
 
 85
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 chamber, though her grandfather had sub- 
 sequently seen that a footman performed 
 that office. 
 
 Lady Diana had not inquired as to the 
 woman visitor anything more than her 
 name. The "Mrs. D'Aquila" she had re- 
 ceived told her nothing, and she did not 
 ask other information as to the dark, foreign 
 appearing woman who seemed to take Bran- 
 caster's injury so deeply to heart. 
 
 There was within Lady Diana a deep 
 spiritual sense. She felt that the stricken 
 Earl might die, indeed she had heard it so 
 whispered, though the Marquis tried to 
 spare her such thoughts as these. She felt 
 in her pure consciousness of small sin that if 
 he died without receiving benefit of the 
 Church of England, or of any clergyman, 
 there would be a cloud upon both his 
 chances in a world which might understand 
 him better, and upon her own conscience as 
 well. She could not forget those murmured 
 
 86
 
 THE TIME 
 
 words as the car shot by her, and that waving 
 of the hand. Surely "that within us which 
 makes for righteousness" could not ignore 
 such a spirit. His was a rare soul, which 
 must have its chance in that void into which 
 hourly it seemed about to escape. 
 
 So she had dispatched a note to the vicar, 
 innocently unmindful of the fact that 
 "Sporting J-ack" Thorpe rode far better to 
 hounds than he did to grace, and that even 
 then he was taking the cure for gout far from 
 the village, the great name of which was 
 Beverley. 
 
 To-day, just as the sun was about to set, 
 she was waiting on the terrace of the Italian 
 Garden for the appearance of Thorpe in 
 answer to her summons. As she walked to 
 and fro along the terrace, with many glances 
 down the little path known to her friends 
 who did not wish to drive a mile along the 
 road before they reached the castle she was 
 joined by her cousin, Captain Greville Sar- 
 
 87
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 toris. The captain was, as usual, "devilishly 
 hard up," as he was wont to put it, and he 
 was trying to evolve a way to make a "kill- 
 ing." 
 
 As Sartoris descended the terrace steps 
 Lady Diana stood looking earnestly in the 
 direction of the village. 
 
 "No sign of anyone coming," the Captain 
 remarked. 
 
 "They must have got my note at the 
 vicarage!" Lady Diana said with anxiety, as 
 she turned appealingly to her cousin. 
 
 "Would your parson come this way by 
 the private gate?" 
 
 "Oh! yes, Greville all our friends near 
 the village do, if they don't want to drive a 
 mile up the Front Avenue." 
 
 Sartoris shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "P'raps the old chap ain't well. Didn't 
 we hear he'd a touch of gout?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, and he wrote he was going to 
 Harrogate for a cure, but not until next 
 
 88
 
 THE TIME 
 
 week, I think." It was clear that Lady Di- 
 ana was greatly alarmed over the condition 
 of the injured man. 
 
 "Is there really much for a parson to do 
 here, Di? Poor Brancaster has never been 
 conscious since the smash." Captain Sar- 
 toris regarded his pretty cousin closely and a 
 slight irritation upset for the moment the 
 man's accustomed sang froid. 
 
 "Nearly six days hanging between life 
 and death and now at any minute he 
 may " The girl stopped abruptly, unable 
 or unwilling to speak the dreaded word. 
 
 "At any minute, my dear Di, he's just as 
 likely to wake up. When he does, believe 
 me he won't ask for a parson. He'll ask for 
 the lady who is sitting by him now." And 
 there was just a trace of unpleasantness in 
 the Captain's low laugh. 
 
 "Mrs. D'Aquila? . . . She seems very 
 devoted to him, Greville," Lady Diana said 
 slowly. 
 
 89
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "Comes over from the Rievers three times 
 a day!" There was a certain innuendo in 
 Capt. Sartoris' remark. 
 
 "She was staying there I suppose with 
 er with " 
 
 "With a tame chaperone, Di she does 
 everything quite correctly." It was quite 
 evident that Greville found something par- 
 ticularly amusing in Lord Brancaster's mys- 
 terious visitor. 
 
 "I ought to be sorry she looks so anxious 
 and troubled." Lady Diana turned a wor- 
 ried face toward her jaunty cousin. 
 
 "Hem. No doubt she is," the Captain 
 answered drily. 
 
 "Greville! . . . Who is Mrs. D'Aquila?" 
 the girl asked him point-blank. 
 
 Sartoris looked at her quizzically as he 
 slowly exhaled the smoke from his cigarette 
 before replying. 
 
 "She <was a married woman," he said, 
 "moving in good society. She is er still 
 
 90
 
 THE TIME 
 
 received in some society. She is exactly 
 the sort of woman that suits the Brancaster 
 sort of man. She is not the sort of woman 
 your grandfather would wish me to discuss 
 with you." 
 
 "I'm not a girl, Greville. What is the 
 attraction about such a woman?" 
 
 "The attraction of curry and cayenne 
 pepper for people whose appetites have 
 been spoiled by hot living," was the Cap- 
 tain's reply. 
 
 There were countless unspoken questions 
 halting on Lady Diana's lips as she re- 
 garded Sartoris sadly. It was some time 
 before she spoke. And then she said 
 "Do they never get tired of curry? I 
 should have thought too much of it would 
 
 have made them absolutely long for for 
 
 , 
 
 "Milk and sponge cake?" the Captain 
 interrupted. "Very seldom. It's always 
 difficult to break oneself of a bad habit
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 Mrs. D'Aquila is a very bad habit," and he 
 sent his cigarette spinning into the shrub- 
 bery. 
 
 "Dressed up, painted, dyed " Lady 
 Diana enumerated, as if she were counting 
 the seven sins. 
 
 "Brancaster's taste, my dear Di." 
 
 "For curried hair, Greville? It isn't 
 natural." Lady Diana had a saving sense 
 of humor that never allowed her to be long 
 downcast. 
 
 "What?" Sartoris inquired. 
 
 "Both. If he could only be cut free 
 got away from from " she hesitated. 
 
 "From that sort of thing? Quite so 
 he'd drift back to it, my dear Di they al- 
 ways do!" And the Captain spoke with 
 the conviction of one much experienced. 
 
 "You think all men are alike, Greville 1" 
 she protested. 
 
 "I know all women are not and the 
 more I see of of women like Mrs. 
 
 92
 
 THE TIME 
 
 D'Aquila the more I know it: the 
 sweeter, the fresher, the dearer, seems the 
 natural real true girl the girl like you, 
 Di." Sartoris bent over his cousin and his 
 hand brushed hers momentarily, almost as 
 if through accident. He turned quickly, 
 and leaning over the marble balustrade of 
 the pool, went on 
 
 "You've been an awfully good pal to me, 
 Di." 
 
 "Have I, Greville?" 
 
 "Yes. When Beverley cut up rough 
 
 
 
 "Nonsense," the girl broke in. "Grand- 
 dad's rich. If you got hard up well 
 you're the next heir." 
 
 "To the title empty," the Captain an- 
 swered shortly. "You'll take the fortune. 
 Your father would have had both. That's 
 why Beverley resents me, if he don't abso- 
 lutely dislike me. He'd be happy if you 
 were a boy." 
 
 93
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 Lady Diana clenched her hands and 
 glanced up proudly at the great house. 
 
 "I often wish I were," she said with real 
 regret. "We belong to the place as much 
 as it belongs to us. But when it's mine I 
 shall be the first who won't be called 'Mar- 
 quis of Beverley.' ' 
 
 "You might be called 'Marchioness,' ' 
 her cousin murmured. 
 
 "No, that would be the title of your 
 wife, Greville." 
 
 "Your title if you were my wife," the 
 man answered slowly, turning. 
 
 "Greville!" she exclaimed, with a 
 catch in her voice. 
 
 "Title and estate brought together again, 
 Di! Is it quite impossible? I've never 
 talked love and nonsense to you. But 
 I've learned to love you very really for 
 yourself and because I've seen the world 
 and know your worth in it. I'm not a saint 
 but every hour with you makes a man 
 
 94
 
 THE TIME 
 
 better makes him try to be more worthy 
 is it quite impossible?" Greville Sar- 
 toris had made love to many women in his 
 time, but with all his tremendous assurance 
 he found it just a bit difficult to say these 
 things to his cousin. 
 
 "Greville I Quite." 
 
 She stopped him with a gesture that for- 
 bade him to continue. "And please for 
 good friendship's sake, for cousinship, 
 never again " She did not finish, but 
 started forward suddenly as a dark figure 
 defined itself in the deepening shadows and 
 came quickly nearer. It was a man in cler- 
 icals. 
 
 "Ah, at last!" Lady Diana breathed with 
 a world of relief. And then she saw that 
 it was a stranger. "I beg your pardon " 
 she apologized. 
 
 "Lady Diana Sartoris?" he inquired. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "My name is Haslam," the newcomer ex- 
 
 95
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 plained. "I am taking the vicar's duty 
 while he is away. You sent a message, you 
 know." 
 
 "Yes. Lord Brancaster met with an ac- 
 cident some days ago he is lying here at 
 our house and his condition has become 
 so so serious that it seemed best to send 
 for the vicar." 
 
 "I greatly regret. His Lordship has ex- 
 pressed a wish ?" 
 
 "He has never recovered consciousness," 
 Lady Diana said, soberly. "We felt it 
 would be so sad, so terrible, if if " and 
 she stopped and turned her head away. 
 
 Mr. Haslam drew a step nearer. 
 
 "If the end should come without the con- 
 solations of the Church?" he continued for 
 her. "Though, indeed, if he is insensible 
 and can neither speak nor hear He 
 hesitated, but the man's meaning was ob- 
 vious.
 
 THE TIME 
 
 "Heaven hears always, doesn't it, Mr. 
 Haslam?" Lady Diana asked. 
 
 The Reverend Mr. Haslam inclined his 
 head. 
 
 "Greville," and Lady Diana turned to 
 her cousin, "tell the doctor Mr. Haslam is 
 going to Lord Brancaster if there is no 
 objection." 
 
 "Certainly," said Sartoris, "though I'm 
 sure he'll feel as I do that the poor sufferer 
 will be greatly benefited by the ministra- 
 tions of so eminent a divine as the Rev. Ver- 
 ner Haslam!" 
 
 The clergyman started slightly imper- 
 ceptibly, almost at the Captain's words, 
 and Greville Sartoris strolled away in the 
 direction of the house, laughing silently. 
 
 "This way, please," Lady Diana said to 
 the minister. And then, with some sur- 
 prise she asked, "Do you know my cousin?" 
 
 "I I did," Haslam replied. "At Ox- 
 97
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 ford. We have not met for many years." 
 Then with another troubled look at Sar- 
 toris he passed toward the house with Lady 
 Diana.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE TRIALS OF LOVE 
 
 ACROSS the meadows and through Bev- 
 erley Wood, Harry Anson, the Whip's 
 jockey, followed his sister. The manner of 
 the girl was furtive and occasionally she 
 looked back as though she suspected she 
 was being followed. 
 
 At such times Harry, in the dusk of the 
 evening, took advantage of whatever cover 
 there was. So Myrtle, without being more 
 than half-conscious of another's presence, 
 finally arrived in the Italian Garden that 
 stretched and sloped away from Falcon- 
 hurst to the south. Now, he thought, he 
 would find out to whom Myrtle had been 
 giving news of the racers in the Beverley 
 stables. But in his haste to enter the gar- 
 den too, and conceal himself, he stumbled 
 
 99
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 over a small rose bush whose branches had 
 escaped a needed trimming by the gardener. 
 
 With a shudder Myrtle turned and saw 
 him. But, nevertheless, with the strategy 
 of a woman, she at once put him on the 
 defensive. 
 
 "Harry!" she exclaimed to her brother. 
 
 "Well?" was the rejoinder. 
 
 "What what are you doing here?" 
 
 "Lord Beverley sent for me," Harry an- 
 swered. "I'm going up to the house. 
 What are you doing?" 
 
 "N nothing," she faltered. 
 
 "You seem frightened about it," he said 
 with cutting sarcasm. 
 
 "I'm not." 
 
 "Who are you looking for?" he de- 
 manded, drawing nearer. "Who have you 
 come to meet?" 
 
 "No one," she declared. 
 
 "That's a lie!" he almost shouted. "I've 
 watched you across the meadow down by 
 100 /
 
 THE TRIALS OF LOVE 
 
 the woodside thinking you weren't seen 
 
 ?j 
 
 "I didn't come here to meet anybody," 
 she said timidly. 
 
 "And it's not the first time," Harry 
 added. 
 
 "It's nothing to you," she told him blunt- 
 
 iy- 
 
 "Yes, it is. Someone's been talking. 
 Things have got out about the horses. 
 Who talks?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "I do," the boy went on, unable to con- 
 trol his anger. "A girl. Who for? 
 Someone who's making a fool of her." 
 
 "What do I know of the horses, Harry?" 
 she asked, thoroughly frightened. "You 
 never tell me anything as you used to do." 
 
 Harry's suspicion would not be denied. 
 
 "Good reason," he snarled. "But others 
 may and you may fetch and carry tales 
 outside for them if it's no worse than 
 101
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 that," he finished lamely, with a choke in 
 his voice. 
 
 "Worse?" the girl stammered. 
 
 "Yes," her brother answered. "But I'll 
 find the blackguard out, and if I do " 
 He stopped suddenly, as he heard footsteps 
 along the path, and shrank back against 
 the bushes under the terrace just in time 
 to escape being seen by Tom Lambert. 
 
 "Ah! Myrtle," Tom's cheery voice called 
 out, as he recognized the girl, "his lord- 
 ship's just sent for Harry, and now I want 
 you " 
 
 Harry burst out of his hiding place and 
 confronted the astonished trainer. 
 
 "You do! do you?" he growkd in Lam- 
 bert's face. "And what for?" 
 
 Tom was quite taken aback at the sudden 
 onslaught. 
 
 "What the deuce is wrong with you, 
 Harry Anson?" he asked with amazement. 
 102
 
 THE TRIALS OF LOVE 
 
 "I'll stand no wrong not with my 
 sister," the boy blustered. 
 
 "Young idiot," returned Lambert, sav- 
 agely aware that the world seemed in con- 
 spiracy with Mrs. Beamish. 
 
 "Perhaps," exclaimed Harry; "but I'm 
 not a blackguard." 
 
 Just then Mrs. Beamish came slowly 
 toward the house and then stopped abruptly 
 as she heard their heated words. 
 
 "For tuppence I'd put my stick around 
 you," shouted the furious Lambert, raising 
 his cane. 
 
 "I've found the stable mouse, Mr. Lam- 
 bert," went on Harry, rage blinding his 
 eyes and judgment alike. "Someone tells 
 Myrtle stable secrets for her to send out- 
 side. And why does she do it? Won't a 
 girl do anything for a man when he's fooled 
 her, got her under his thumb?" 
 
 Lambert could stand nothing more, and 
 103
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 he seized the boy by the shoulder, shaking 
 him savagely while he raised his stick for 
 chastisement. 
 
 Quickly Mrs. Beamish interposed, re- 
 leased Harry and stepped between them, 
 much as a referee might have done in the 
 prize ring. 
 
 "If you'd only heard what he said," 
 panted Lambert, ready to take advantage of 
 the slightest opening between the two men 
 that Mrs. Beamish might leave. 
 
 "I did," she returned in her dry tone of 
 suspicion. "He has my sympathy." 
 
 The fight left the spirit of Lambert at 
 once. This woman whom he loved was 
 forever suspecting him groundlessly. 
 
 "You think I'd go courting a girl that 
 age?" he said mournfully to his elderly 
 flame. 
 
 Mrs. Beamish smiled bitterly. 
 
 "I certainly hoped you knew better at 
 your age," she snapped. 
 104
 
 THE TRIALS OF LOVE 
 
 Then, with an abrupt resumption of that 
 dignity which became her so well, she sent 
 Myrtle back to the Anson cottage and Harry 
 to see Lord Beverley. 
 
 "And when you get back to the stable," 
 Lambert could not resist calling after 
 Harry, "you know what's waiting for you." 
 
 "Coward!" sputtered Mrs. Beamish 
 when they were once more alone. 
 
 "Cat!" retorted the outraged trainer. 
 "Only a woman would believe a lot of gos- 
 sip like that." 
 
 "I've seen you talking to the girl," re- 
 turned Mrs. Beamish coldly and haughtily. 
 
 "There was something wrong with the 
 boy," explained Lambert. 
 
 "Now we know what it is," came from 
 her. 
 
 "Well, I will be ," began Lambert. 
 
 "You certainly will be if you don't re- 
 form at once," she said tartly, as she gath- 
 ered her skirts carefully about her, ready 
 105
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 to leave him with all the scorn at the com- 
 mand of fluttering petticoats. "And you'll 
 get into all sorts of difficulties. If you 
 don't look sharp you'll find yourself the 
 central figure in a big breach of promise 
 suit. And she'll get big damages. Serve 
 you right, you old fool!" And then she 
 was gone, leaving Lambert assassinating 
 several rare shrubs with his cane. 
 
 106
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 MARRIAGE MADE EASY 
 
 ALONE in the Italian Garden were Mrs. 
 D'Aquila and Captain Greville Sartoris. 
 There was a certain kinship of spirit be- 
 tween the two. Sartoris was cool and in- 
 cisive so was the woman. Sartoris had 
 not hesitated at much to gain his small 
 sporting ends, neither would she. He 
 was now on the point of anything criminal 
 that would advance his pocketbook, so 
 would she be. Added to this they had 
 known each other intimately in London in 
 a certain society in which Mrs. D'Aquila 
 was now at home, and which Sartoris 
 sought occasionally. 
 
 As the Captain and Mrs. D'Aquila stood 
 talking in the starlight, they were inter- 
 rupted by the arrival of Sir Andrew Beck, 
 107
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 Brancaster's surgeon, who was on his way 
 to the house to see his patient. 
 
 "Ah, Sir Andrew 1" Mrs. D'Aquila 
 greeted the doctor. "I hoped to see you 
 before I left. I am so anxious about dear 
 Hubert er Lord Brancaster." 
 
 "We must all be, Mrs. D'Aquila," the 
 surgeon replied gravely, as he looked at the 
 woman somewhat curiously. 
 
 "He's worse?" she asked quickly. 
 
 "He could not be, madam." 
 
 "You are alarmed then?" 
 
 "I am hopeful, equally. He has been 
 insensible for six days. I fear at any mo- 
 ment he may collapse. I hope at any mo- 
 ment he may regain consciousness for 
 when he does, his recovery should be 
 rapid." 
 
 "Should be?" she pressed Sir Andrew. 
 
 "Nothing is certain," he explained. 
 "Brain injury leaves dangerous, and some- 
 times very curious, after effects. Prob- 
 108
 
 MARRIAGE MADE EASY 
 
 ably he will never remember anything 
 about his accident even getting into his 
 car" 
 
 "Deuced strange, isn't it?" Captain Sar- 
 toris put in. 
 
 "Yes," Sir Andrew replied. "A blow 
 on the brain knocks a bit out of memory." 
 
 "For long?" Mrs. D'Aquila inquired 
 suddenly. 
 
 "Forever," he answered briefly. 
 
 "Yes, I saw that once," Sartoris inter- 
 rupted. "You know Peter Crocker? One 
 of the best over a country went down to 
 Cheltenham and rode two winners the 
 first day. On the second he rode Halifax 
 for Lord Melrose in the big Steeplechase 
 came a frightful purler at the water 
 jump and was insensible for a week. 
 When he recovered, he never remembered 
 his two winners, as a fact never remem- 
 bered being at Cheltenham at all and 
 never remembered any of his bets!" 
 109
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 Sir Andrew Beck smiled, as he remarked 
 dryly 
 
 "That might have been convenient." 
 
 "Yes," he said, "but he had to pay all the 
 same." 
 
 "Fancy paying for what you can't re- 
 member doing!" Mrs. D'Aquila cried, 
 aghast at such a financial calamity. 
 
 "That might easily be Lord Brancaster's 
 case," Sir Andrew continued. "He has 
 had a bad bout. His life has not been too 
 regular too healthy." 
 
 "You mean, Sir Andrew, that in any case 
 there is grave danger?" Mrs. D'Aquila 
 asked. 
 
 "I say there may be, Mrs. D'Aquila. If 
 is not proper that I should disguise it from 
 anyone to whom er to whom ' 
 
 Mrs. D'Aquila did not wait for him to 
 finish. 
 
 "His life is very dear to me," she said, 
 no
 
 MARRIAGE MADE EASY 
 
 "I have always asked you to tell me the 
 truth, Sir Andrew." 
 
 Sir Andrew looked at her with serious- 
 ness as he replied 
 
 "And I am sure you won't abuse it by 
 any undue display of anxiety should you be 
 present when consciousness returns it will 
 be essential to his recovery that his sur- 
 roundings should be peaceful, restful, 
 happy." 
 
 "I hope my presence will never mean 
 anything else," she affirmed, with some 
 trace of resentment. 
 
 "Quite so," and Sir Andrew drew out his 
 watch. "And now if you'll excuse me, it's 
 time I had a look at my patient and dressed 
 for dinner. Wonderful what an appetite 
 your North Country air gives to one. We 
 will hope there will be better news to-mor- 
 row. Good evening." And he walked 
 slowly on in the direction of the house, 
 in
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 And now Mrs. D'Aquila sat thinking 
 over his words, as she had just come from 
 the chamber of Brancaster, while Sartoris, 
 equally thoughtful, smoked his strong and 
 perpetual cigarettes at her side. Finally 
 the woman raised her eyes, broodingly, to 
 his thoughtful face, as they sat together on 
 a stone bench, 
 
 "Greville," she said somberly, "I have 
 lost my chance." 
 
 He started. 
 
 "Eh, Nora, what's that?" he asked. 
 
 "I have lost my chance of becoming a! 
 first-class widow," she said in deadly, calm 
 tones. 
 
 "Whose?" 
 
 "Brancaster's." 
 
 "Rats." 
 
 "Fact." 
 
 "He'd really have married you?" 
 
 "He would." 
 
 "Rubbish I beg your pardon." 
 112
 
 MARRIAGE MADE EASY 
 
 "Certainly," went on the woman. "You 
 (don't understand Brancaster. He's a 'pre' 
 something or other. That's where I come 
 in. I'm long and I'm lank he calls it 
 aesthetic. I dye my hair puce he calls it 
 Titian and Burne-Jones. I can pant and 
 whisper at the piano under a pink lamp 
 shade, with the soft pedals down, while I 
 look unutterable yearnings into space. I 
 can babble second-hand philosophy 
 French philosophy in the moonlight. 
 He draws and he paints and, like most men, 
 he is romantic; like most noblemen, he is 
 chivalrous; like most gentlemen, he is gen- 
 erous. He thinks I have been misunder- 
 stood and harshly judged. I'm certain that 
 if some day I got him in the right mood, in 
 tears and a teagown, with my hair down 
 and a laudanum bottle on the mantelpiece, 
 you know why, one day it was as near as 
 this." 
 
 To the amazement of the Captain she took
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 from her handbag and gave to him a special 
 license to marry, dated but a month before. 
 
 Sartoris set bolt upright on the bench 
 they were jointly occupying. 
 
 "Why didn't you?" he shot out. 
 
 "Some rot about me in the papers er " 
 She made a vague gesture. 
 
 "There's more in about you this morn- 
 ing," he said. "You've made divorces 
 rather a hobby, haven't you?" 
 
 But she ignored his last words. 
 
 "I could have talked him out of it," she 
 went on. "Now there'll never be another 
 chance. It's awfully rough luck. I might 
 be a widow, Lady Brancaster, if anything 
 happened to-night. Funny situation if I'd 
 married him last week, and he recovered, 
 and then as Sir Andrew said, couldn't re- 
 member anything he had done." 
 
 There was a period of silence between 
 them, while both stared straight ahead. 
 114
 
 MARRIAGE MADE EASY 
 
 An idea seemed to be in the air. Neither 
 afterward knew just which of them had 
 thought of it first. But after a moment 
 they turned with a common impulse to stare 
 understandingly at each other. 
 
 "This," said Sartoris, tapping the paper, 
 "this would remind him. I wonder if he 
 will recover." 
 
 Mrs. D'Aquila shook her head. 
 
 "I am afraid " she began. 
 
 "If he didn't, there would be no one to 
 question anything he'd done or was said to 
 have done," the Captain interrupted. 
 
 "Said to have done?" 
 
 "Yes. You're quite sure he didn't marry 
 you?" Sartoris asked his companion, look- 
 ing at her intently. 
 
 "Of course!" 
 
 "It seems such a pity," he continued 
 "with no one left to question it ... You 
 hard up?" 
 
 "5
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "Very!" was the emphatic reply. 
 
 "So am I," agreed Greville Sartoris, 
 with something resembling a sigh. 
 
 "I'd a notion the heiress " Mrs. 
 D'Aquila began, nodding toward the 
 house. 
 
 "Tried," Sartoris finished, for her. "No 
 go. And my cousin Beverley won't lend 
 any more, and I'm in a tight corner 
 shockingly tight corner." It was usually a 
 difficult matter to read the Captain's face, 
 but on this occasion, having made this ex- 
 ceedingly personal revelation, he was at no 
 pains to conceal the care that momentarily 
 aged his handsome features. His statement 
 was too true. 
 
 "Suppose " he said in that sinister 
 fashion he had at times. 
 
 "I wouldn't dare " she countered. 
 
 Then their eyes met and clung together 
 in a glance of the deepest understanding. 
 
 "I'm devilishly hard up," he said. 
 116
 
 MARRIAGE MADE EASY 
 
 "So am I," she returned. 
 
 Sartoris swallowed hard, then when he 
 began to speak the thought that was vaguely 
 in both their minds, his first words were 
 tremulous, but as he went on his tones be- 
 came cold, decidedly emotionless. 
 
 "Suppose to-night you drive up in your 
 motor to a village church and the 
 date in the register and on the certificate 
 were put back ten days and the names came 
 out as yours and Brancaster's?" he asked. 
 
 In her excitement, now that their hitherto 
 unspoken mutual thought was out, she rose 
 to her feet. 
 
 "Impossible," she exclaimed. "The 
 risk!" 
 
 "What risk? A bare chance of recovery 
 and none of memory. You heard Sir 
 Andrew. He'll never be able to deny that 
 he'd married you, since he wouldn't be able 
 to remember anything that had happened 
 during this period. And when he'd for- 
 117
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 gotten, the special license and the marriage 
 certificate would remind him. Where's 
 your pluck?" 
 
 In her turn, the woman clenched her fists 
 and swallowed a lump in her throat. 
 
 "Where's your parson?" she asked. 
 
 He smiled pleasantly at the prospect. 
 
 "How much?" she asked in a hard voice, 
 thinking of the only motive that could im- 
 pel him. 
 
 With a shrug of his shoulders Sartoris 
 returned : 
 
 "We needn't bargain. I'll see to my 
 share." 
 
 "Where's your parson?" she asked again. 
 
 As if in answer to her urgent request for 
 a spiritual adviser, the Rev. Verner Has- 
 lam passed along the terrace on his return 
 to the vicarage. With a contemptuous 
 gesture Sartoris indicated the man. 
 
 "There he is," said he then with a quick 
 stride he passed before the clergyman and 
 118
 
 MARRIAGE MADE EASY 
 
 stood directly in his path, while the woman 
 sank down on the bench again, covering for 
 the moment her face with her hands. 
 
 "Well, Haslam," said Sartoris, leering 
 into the other's face, "what are you doing 
 here?" 
 
 Haslam made a motion toward Falcon- 
 hurst 
 
 "I" he began. 
 
 "I know what you are doing at Falcon- 
 hurst," went on Sartoris. "But I mean in 
 the village?" 
 
 "I am taking the vicar's duty," he said, 
 as his head sank beneath the other's con- 
 tempt. 
 
 "Has the vicar any idea who you are?" 
 came brutally from the Captain. "Does he 
 know you are a drunkard and were de- 
 prived of your living?" 
 
 For one brief moment Haslam raised his 
 shamed head. 
 
 "My bishop knows that I have striven 
 119
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 to conquer an evil habit that all but 
 ruined me. He knows that I am striving 
 to win back " 
 
 "And what else does he know?" broke 
 in Sartoris. "You have several other little 
 habits that aren't a credit to your cloth. 
 There was a card scandal when we were 
 in Paris." 
 
 "I beg, I entreat you if that were 
 known May not a man repent sincerely 
 of everything?" 
 
 "By all means go ahead but you'll find 
 that that is rather a large order. Tell 
 me any marriages in your church lately?" 
 
 "None for three weeks," said Haslam, 
 glad that his tormentor seemed turning 
 from his immediate object. 
 
 In a seemingly happy humor Sartoris 
 slapped the man of the robe on his back. 
 
 "Capital," he ejaculated. "No dates in 
 the register for three weeks! Now, if a 
 marriage took place and somehow owing 
 120
 
 MARRIAGE MADE EASY 
 
 to your habits names got a bit muddled 
 and dates a bit set back couldn't you in- 
 clude it in your list of er regrettable rem- 
 iniscences?" 
 
 "Include " stammered Haslam. 
 
 "That," said Sartoris forcefully, handing 
 to him the license to marry. 
 
 "Brancaster," gasped the curate. "Bran- 
 caster, whom I've just left " 
 
 "Dying probably," went on Sartoris, 
 "leaving undone what he meant to do 
 leaving a great wrong to a woman." There 
 now came into the voice of Sartoris a great 
 irony. While he seemed to be framing a 
 plausible argument to Haslam, still his 
 tone implied that he himself understood 
 how specious it all was, and his irony was 
 directed not alone at himself but at Haslam, 
 Mrs. D'Aquila and, indeed, the whole 
 world in general. "I'm not a knight Pala- 
 din, but I want to put it right. In the sud- 
 den extremity there is only one way. There 
 121
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 will be no one to question most people 
 think it's done already but because it isn't 
 is the woman to be left in er shame? 
 I'll save her" again the irony in spite of 
 himself "if you'll help me. Can't I ap- 
 peal to your better self?" 
 
 "It's fraud, it's crime," Haslam said, his 
 whole figure seeming united in a strange 
 trembling. 
 
 This time Sartoris openly sneered as he 
 went on with his appeal "to your better 
 nature," for he was sure of this weakling. 
 
 "No justice mercy pity ! You've 
 asked me for pity and mercy. What is 
 your answer when I ask them from you?" 
 
 "Heaven forgive me," came from Has- 
 lam. 
 
 In reply Sartoris drawled out: 
 
 "Strange way of putting it." 
 
 The weakling again hesitated as he 
 thought of the consequences of exposure if 
 exposure came from Sartoris. He loved to 
 122
 
 MARRIAGE MADE EASY 
 
 minister to the wealthy and nobly born. 
 And, failing that, he would be submerged. 
 
 "If if I were sure " he faltered. 
 
 Sartoris slapped him on the back. 
 
 "You have my assurance. You Have 
 heard my request. I've heard yours. 
 What do we both answer?" Sartoris asked. 
 
 Haslam looked at him. But he did not 
 dare to trust to words. He bowed assent 
 slowly. 
 
 "I'll send you a note," concluded Sar- 
 toris. "It will be to-night. Be ready." 
 
 Again Haslam bowed. Then he left 
 them. 
 
 Instantly Mrs. D'Aquila came toward 
 Sartoris as he lighted a new cigarette. 
 
 "What have you said? What have you 
 done?" she asked in the deepest agitation. 
 
 There was extreme confidence in the 
 smile of Sartoris, a confidence so great that 
 it spread to her, as he replied: 
 
 "Saved you, dear Lady Brancaster if 
 123
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 you've got the pluck to face it once more 
 you'll be a legally wedded wife. The 
 harmless necessary parson has been found." 
 
 "But the bridegroom?" 
 
 He bowed so deeply that she could see 
 the whole line of the parting of his hair. 
 
 "For this occasion only that's where I 
 come in," he said flippantly. 
 
 124
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 A WOMAN SCORNED 
 
 LORD BRANCASTER, now well on the road 
 to recovery, lay in a large seat in the loggia 
 of Falconhurst, looking almost tenderly at 
 Lady Diana, who had come to him with 
 her basket of daffodils, in her self-imposed 
 task of putting flowers in all of the old 
 carved stone vases about the great house. 
 
 Brancaster thanked her for her kindness. 
 
 "Oh, that's all right. I thought per- 
 haps you were asleep," Lady Diana said, 
 smiling as she looked around at him. 
 
 "And dreaming, eh? No; only day- 
 dreams. I was thinking . . ." 
 
 "Of what?" she asked, idly, as she busied 
 herself with her basket. 
 
 "Of what a beautiful world it is ... of 
 how good it is to be alive on a day like this 
 125
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 ... of how splendid it is to be getting well 
 again." And Brancaster looked out across 
 the great lawn, and up at the blue morn- 
 ing sky, and drew a deep breath of content. 
 
 "Yes, you've made a wonderful recov- 
 ery. A fortnight ago. . ." Lady Diana 
 stopped rather painfully. 
 
 "They didn't think I'd pull through, 
 eh?" 
 
 "No. Sir Andrew Beck says that you've 
 been as near death as a man could be with- 
 out actually dying." 
 
 "And now I've been won back from the 
 gates of death thanks to you." 
 
 Lady Diana glanced up quickly as she 
 caught the emphasis Brancaster gave the 
 final word. 
 
 "I wasn't your only nurse," she reminded 
 him. 
 
 "But you were the one. It was your 
 touch that brought peace and your presence 
 126
 
 A WOMAN SCORNED 
 
 that brought sunshine; it was you who 
 called me back to life and made me want 
 to live again." 
 
 "I I am glad to think that," she fal- 
 tered. 
 
 "You may be it's your work. And now 
 I'm nearly well again so well, that I feel 
 like a fraud for continuing to play the in- 
 valid so well, that I ought to go away." 
 
 "Why? You know you're very welcome 
 here," Lady Diana told him, ignoring, as 
 women will, the intense quality that marked 
 the young man's voice. 
 
 "I know you've made me so," he an- 
 swered, gratefully. 
 
 "Grandfather and I? Why not? Of 
 course we should do that. And oh! 
 here's your sketch book," she finished, 
 somewhat lamely, with an apparent effort 
 to divert the conversation into other chan- 
 nels. 
 
 127
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "So it is! But how did you get it into 
 your hands?" Brancaster asked, taking the 
 book from her. 
 
 "Well, you had it with you in the car." 
 
 "Had I?" he exclaimed, turning the flat 
 volume over and examining it curiously. 
 
 "Of course you had," she replied, with 
 quite a shade of wonder at the question. 
 
 He opened the book and turned its pages. 
 
 "By Jove!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "What is it?" she asked. 
 
 "These studies of hounds they look like 
 my work, but I can't recall making them. 
 And here's one I'll swear I never did." 
 
 Lady Diana looked over his shoulder. 
 
 "Dido?" she said. "No, I did that. 
 Don't you remember?" 
 
 Brancaster put his hand to his head in 
 dazed fashion. 
 
 "No," he said. 
 
 "You'd been sketching near the kennels," 
 128
 
 A WOMAN SCORNED 
 
 she continued. "We first met there, don't 
 you remember?" 
 
 "I can't remember a thing about it!" ex- 
 claimed Brancaster, his head in a whirl as 
 he found that all that had happened im- 
 mediately prior to his accident had van- 
 ished from his memory. 
 
 "Sir Andrew said that for some time your 
 memory would be confused," the girl said. 
 
 "It's hard not to recall the best mornings 
 of one's life," said the young Earl. "I wish 
 the accident had blotted out the worst, so 
 that you could never hear of them." 
 
 "I do not believe all I have heard," said 
 the girl. 
 
 "Tell me what you've heard and I'll say 
 if it's true." 
 
 "I've heard you gamble," said the girl, 
 in whom there was a strong moral sense. 
 
 "At times," he confessed, "when life 
 seems very meaningless." 
 129
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "That you are extravagant 
 
 "What's money for?" he asked lightly, 
 shrugging his shoulders. 
 
 "Not to be wasted squandered till you 
 are embarrassed I beg your pardon 
 And she stopped short, realizing that she 
 had no right to say such words. 
 
 "Till I'm nearly broke," said Brancaster, 
 < "quite right and nothing to show for it. 
 I shall be a beggar some day die in the 
 gutter and serve me right." 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 "That's not worthy! If you see you 
 were wrong there's time to go right. And 
 you should go. If you've been stupid, I 
 am sure there was some excuse." She 
 looked at him kindly, and there was in her 
 heart the earnest desire to help this new 
 found friend. 
 
 "Only the old one a young fool should 
 not be his own master. My mother died 
 when I was born my father, when I was 
 130
 
 A WOMAN SCORNED 
 
 a child. I was a minor with too much 
 money and I went the pace downhill all 
 the time with every hand to help me." 
 Brancaster's voice was a bit sad and a 
 melancholy expression played about his mo- 
 bile mouth. 
 
 "Ah! if there had only been a sister's 
 hand!" And Lady Diana looked at him 
 wistfully. 
 
 "Yes, but no good woman ever came into 
 my life till I met you. Your hand has 
 given me new life." 
 
 "You make too much of it," she said 
 simply, turning aside for a moment to hide 
 the embarrassment she could not but feel. 
 
 "The giver or the gift?" he asked. "I've 
 made little enough of life, so far!" 
 
 "Couldn't you in the future?" Her voice 
 carried with it a gentleness that was almost 
 a caress. 
 
 "Is that your wish?" For a man who 
 had but lately been at death's door, Lord 
 131
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 Brancaster showed surprising animation. 
 
 "Indeed from my heart," she told him. 
 
 His face lighted suddenly and he said: 
 
 "Then the past does not make you utterly 
 despise me?" 
 
 "Of course not. It only makes me sad. 
 Very very sorry." 
 
 "For me or my folly?" and he looked at 
 her with a gratitude that was unquestion- 
 able. 
 
 "Both. It all seems such a pity!" 
 
 "Could your pity ever be akin to " 
 
 "To hope? It is that now." 
 
 The fearless gaze of the "cleanest sports- 
 woman in all England," inspired Bran- 
 caster. Hurriedly and hopefully, yet fear- 
 fully, he went on : 
 
 "And if hope were justified if you saw 
 that a man could shake off the past re- 
 trieve repair hold up his head and come 
 to you with clean hands and a clean heart 
 would you let him say to you " 
 132
 
 A WOMAN SCORNED 
 
 The sudden entrance of a servant put 
 an end to what was in his heart and 
 mind. 
 
 "Mrs. D'Aquila," announced the menial. 
 
 Brancaster shrugged angry shoulders. 
 
 "You'd rather be alone," suggested Lady 
 Diana. 
 
 "Yes and I shall be in a few moments," 
 answered Brancaster. 
 
 "I'll come to you when you are," said 
 Lady Diana, and was gone. 
 
 A moment later Mrs. D'Aquila was ad- 
 vancing toward him with outstretched 
 hands. 
 
 "Ah, dear Hubert," she exclaimed, and 
 then stopped short as she saw that he took 
 almost involuntarily a few backward steps 
 from her. "What is the matter, Hubert?" 
 
 "Nothing," returned Brancaster. "Won't 
 you sit down?" 
 
 She obeyed his hand gesture, and sat 
 down.
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "Well, now," she continued, "tell me how 
 you are." 
 
 His manner was cold as he replied, 
 
 "Practically quite well again at least I 
 shall soon be Sir Andrew has gone." 
 
 While his manner was cold and the wo- 
 man must have seen plainly that he wished 
 to break with her there was no consciousness 
 of such knowledge in her voice and manner 
 as she exclaimed : 
 
 "Poor darling! I'm so glad. Doctors are 
 sweet persons, but a hateful nuisance." 
 
 "I owe my life to them and er to my 
 nurses," he said warmly. 
 
 "Dear things," she said, "but I should 
 have nursed you better. You don't know 
 what misery it was to think of you lying 
 there between life and death among stran- 
 gers." 
 
 "They cared for me like the best of 
 friends," said Brancaster warmly. 
 
 "Quite sweet of theml" went on the
 
 A WOMAN SCORNED 
 
 woman. "But it was I who should have 
 been with you it was my right, my duty, 
 given me by our love. What should I have 
 done if anything had happened if I had 
 been left alone?" 
 
 She touched his shoulder with the light- 
 est of pressure, yet it was exceedingly re- 
 pugnant to him and he squirmed in his seat, 
 finally arising. 
 
 "Nonsense! YouVe plenty of friends, 
 Nora," he exclaimed, annoyed. 
 
 "Friends?" she responded in a peculiar 
 inflection. 
 
 "Yes," he went on hurriedly, but still 
 firmly. "You always had before we met, 
 and will again after " Even he* could not 
 yet finish the sentence. 
 
 "After what?" she asked, leaning far 
 over toward him. 
 
 Brancaster took a deep breath and nerved 
 himself. 
 
 "After youVe forgotten my existence," he
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 said. "Friends who'll amuse you for the 
 day, entertain you, invite you here and 
 there, for this race week, or that season, as 
 I did." 
 
 "Did?" she asked, repeating the past 
 tense meaningly. 
 
 "Yes," went on B'rancaster, affecting not 
 to notice. "When you were tired with 
 town and wanted rest and quiet in the coun- 
 try." 
 
 The woman's voice now became low, in- 
 tense, and full of a sinister threat. 
 
 "Was that quite the spirit of your invita- 
 tions, your letters your protestations?" she 
 asked quietly. 
 
 Brancaster shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "Oh, well surely no midsummer mad- 
 ness is expected to live through an autumn," 
 he said firmly. 
 
 The woman was now on her feet and 
 quite close to him while her eyes fairly 
 blazed into his. 
 
 136
 
 A WOMAN SCORNED 
 
 "What are you trying to tell me, Hu- 
 bert?" she demanded. 
 
 "That that when a man has been as 
 near to death as I have," he continued, "he 
 learns to look at life differently more 
 clearly and " 
 
 She broke in with: 
 
 "Stuff! When the devil was sick, the 
 devil a saint would be!' You've a fit of 
 the dismals and I don't wonder after a 
 month of prunes and prisms in a place like 
 this ! Come back to the Rievers we'll ask 
 some cheery people down to stay you'll be 
 yourself again." 
 
 "I am not coming back to the Rievers," 
 he said shortly. 
 
 "Eh? Well, it is gloomy. Much jollier 
 to meet again in town." 
 
 "No," he said. 
 
 "Then where?" 
 
 "Nowhere," he replied. "We can't meet 
 again at all." 
 
 137
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "Can't? Why?" she asked, ready for the 
 clash. 
 
 "All that's over, Nora," he said. "I'm 
 sorry, but it's best to say it out. I've de- 
 termined between us this to-day is 'good- 
 by.' " 
 
 "Do you forget that you asked me to be 
 your wife?" she said. 
 
 "That was before " he began and 
 paused. 
 
 "Before a pack of lies were published in 
 the papers," she finished for him; "innuen- 
 does suspicions that I was never called to 
 answer that were only half believed be- 
 cause because you know how defenseless 
 a woman is nothing was proved! Did I 
 ever deceive you about myself? I told you 
 everything " 
 
 "Everything?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I am sorry," he said, "but I do not re- 
 member the statements I read about you 
 138
 
 A WOMAN SCORNED 
 
 last week, you did not explain. I remember 
 no explanation from you." 
 
 "You do not remember many things that 
 happened before your accident as Sir An- 
 drew said," she replied. 
 
 "Some trifles certainly," he responded. 
 
 "Trifles!" she exclaimed. "You forget 
 that you confirmed your promise to me. 
 Hubert, whatever the world says of me, 
 thinks of me, you were different. I told you 
 all. You knew and understood. Shan't 
 we walk down the old paths together again? 
 Won't you lead me to the new life, the hope 
 you promised?" 
 
 "Nora, forgive me," said Brancaster, in 
 deep agitation, "but whatever I promised I 
 did not then know " 
 
 But the woman interrupted savagely: 
 
 "That you'd meet Di Sartoris, a chit of a 
 girl simpering over a sick man, and fall in 
 love with her!" 
 
 "That has nothing to do with it " he 
 139
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 said, resentful that Lady Diana's name had 
 been brought into their conversation. 
 
 "It was everything," she asserted. 
 
 "Very well, then, have it your own way," 
 hesaid. "Ifl'vebeenafool I'llstopintime. 
 There's the truth and that is good-by." 
 
 To the relief of Brancaster a servant en- 
 tered and gave him a note which he saw at 
 once had been written by Beverley. 
 
 "I was to ask your lordship, to read it at 
 once," the servant said and withdrew. 
 
 With a muttered apology Brancaster tore 
 open the envelope, and then, having par- 
 tially read the note, looked keenly at Mrs. 
 D'Aquila. 
 
 "About me?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes," he answered. 
 
 "Pray read it," she said with a shrug of in- 
 idifference. 
 
 Brancaster read aloud : 
 
 "I do not wish to seem personally dis- 
 courteous to your guest, and I am very sen- 
 140
 
 A WOMAN SCORNED 
 
 sible of the consideration due to the feelings 
 of a woman, but I trust her visit to-day will 
 be a short one, and I must ask you to let her 
 understand, with as little offense as may be, 
 that now you are recovered, her visits here 
 must cease. I hoped her own common 
 sense would have prompted her not to call 
 again, but since she has you must make it 
 clear that I cannot receive a lady whose ex- 
 act position and relation to yourself I can- 
 not explain to my granddaughter Di." 
 
 The woman stopped him with a furious 
 gesture. 
 
 "Thanks," she said savagely. "So it's 
 once more again Di ? I am to be humiliated 
 for Di! Insulted for Di! Thrown over 
 by you turned out by him for Di! 
 Very well! Tell him what I tell you, that 
 when next we meet I trust I shall be able to 
 explain correctly the precise nature of my 
 position and relation to him and to you 
 and to Di!" 
 
 141
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED GUEST 
 
 THERE was only laughter and jovial clink- 
 ing of glasses as Beverley entertained the 
 hunt at breakfast in the great hall of Falcon- 
 hurst, while outside the hounds were being 
 prepared for a big meet. The men in their 
 red coats seemed so many figures stepped 
 out of the frames of the portraits on the walls 
 behind them. 
 
 But at one end of the table a little with- 
 drawn from their neighbors the Rev. Verner 
 Haslam and Captain Sartoris were talking. 
 The clergyman looked anxiously up and 
 down the board. 
 
 "Where's Brancaster?" he asked, his un- 
 easy conscience troubling him. 
 
 But Sartoris was perfectly at his ease and 
 the other's anxious tones passed by him. 
 
 "Oh, he's driven down to the station," he 
 142
 
 AN UNEXPECTED GUEST 
 
 returned in a casual tone. "He's been fuss- 
 ing all the morning about a parcel or some- 
 thing he wanted from town." 
 
 "He's quite recovered?" asked Haslam. 
 
 "They think so. Talks of hunting to- 
 day," said Sartoris. 
 
 "But his mind his memory?" the uneasy 
 clergyman asked. 
 
 Sartoris shrugged his shoulders in their 
 well-fitting red coat. 
 
 "Why?" he asked. 
 
 "When the vicar returns he'll read that 
 that entry in the marriage register," he said, 
 glancing uneasily up the table. 
 
 "Brancaster's marriage," returned the 
 other. "Well didn't he marry?" 
 
 "You know " began Haslam. 
 
 "Pardon me. I know nothing." 
 
 "You signed for him," persisted Haslam. 
 
 "No. You wrote his name." 
 
 "But the work. The cross against it " 
 
 Sartoris was visibly annoyed. 
 143
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "Brancaster's wrist was injured at the 
 time," he said. "Dash it! We must be ar- 
 tistic he couldn't write." 
 
 "What does it matter? The thing is 
 there," groaned the substitute vicar. 
 
 "Quite so in perfectly legal form," said 
 Sartoris firmly. 
 
 "He will know it's false," said the con- 
 science-stricken Haslam. 
 
 "Never! He never can or will unless 
 you tell him," said the Captain. "Do you 
 want to add a memory of jail to your other 
 reminiscences? Beastly place! My dear 
 fellow, for once in our lives we've done a 
 good action. Don't be afraid of it. We've 
 bought justice for a woman. She'll stick 
 to it. I shall stick to it. You stick to it. 
 You can't be found out so be noble. 
 You'll have a jolly bad time if you don't." 
 
 The other shuddered. 
 
 "But will she make her claim publicly 
 soon?" he asked. 
 
 144
 
 AN UNEXPECTED GUEST 
 
 Sartoris took a puff at the cigarette be- 
 tween his lips as he returned : 
 
 "Can't say. She never meant to while he 
 lived. She was anticipating er weeds, 
 don't you see? Now the situation's 
 changed. If he jilts her she may be jealous 
 perhaps resentful and well, if the crash 
 comes sooner or later it's all one to you, 
 my dear Haslam d'you see? You've got 
 to stick to it." 
 
 Beverley now rapped on the table and 
 gradually the company of men settled into 
 their places. 
 
 "The season's over," said the Marquis, 
 "and this is our last meet. Now those beastly 
 violets are sprouting in the garden our last 
 meet and the last time I shall hunt the 
 hounds. The Beverleys have hunted from 
 Falconhurst for over two hundred years" 
 he paused to let the applause subside "and 
 so they will as long as a Beverley lives, a 
 Beverley'll be their master. But Beverley 
 145
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 has no son to come after him. He died as 
 a Beverley should for his country. He's 
 jiot here to be my deputy. So, gentlemen, 
 it lies with you to say who shall. You want 
 young blood to hunt good hounds I'll find 
 them all right but we want a deputy mas- 
 ter one you'll all follow one the country 
 knows one who'll hunt the Beverley as a 
 good sportsman should and as you who sit 
 around me are good sportsmen one and all, 
 I've called you all together to leave the 
 choice to you." 
 
 At this moment the young Earl of Bran- 
 caster entered and took his seat at the table 
 of Beverley. Instantly there were shouts 
 of "Brancaster" and Captain Raynor got to 
 his feet quickly with : 
 
 "In the old days it was the rule when the 
 master at Falconhurst came a cropper, it 
 was the master of Rievers who hunted the 
 hounds. It has been his turn to come crop- 
 pers lately. But now, as we all rejoice to 
 146
 
 AN UNEXPECTED GUEST 
 
 see, he's fit and well again, and standing at 
 Lord Beverley's right hand. Could a bet- 
 ter man take the whip than Lord Brancas- 
 ter?" 
 
 As amid cheers that followed this speech, 
 Lady Diana and the women of the hunt in 
 full field costume entered and grouped 
 themselves on the stairs to hear the conclu- 
 sion of the speeches, Brancaster arose and 
 with a bow to the company began in a low 
 voice which gradually increased in power: 
 
 "Gentlemen, you pay me a very high com- 
 pliment, but I am afraid I don't deserve it. 
 To command the support of the Beverley 
 Hunt, I have not yet proved that I can ride 
 hard enough or as straight as I shall when 
 I follow the lead that I am certain will 
 appeal most nearly to you the lead you 
 would follow to the hardest finish in the 
 world the lead, not of a deputy master, for 
 there is none here fitted to take that place 
 but the lead that is given in some counties
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 by the Mistress of the Hounds. Gentlemen, 
 let us follow that example and declare by 
 acclamation to-day that Lady Diana Sar- 
 toris is the chosen Deputy Mistress of the 
 Beverley Hounds." 
 
 Only the greatest positive and affirmative 
 shouts greeted this declaration, and, encour- 
 aged by it, Brancaster walked slowly to the 
 foot of the stairway, and took from his 
 pocket a jewel case containing a miniature 
 whip in diamonds, the package he had been 
 fuming about in the morning. 
 
 "Lady Diana," he said to the young girl 
 above him, "you have heard the decision of 
 the hunt. May I beg that on their behalf 
 you will accept the whip?" 
 
 And he gave to Lady Diana the glittering 
 diamond whip. 
 
 Lady Diana was plainly moved, and there 
 seemed tears of pride and joy in her eyes as 
 she answered: 
 
 "Gentlemen I I if you really wish it 
 148
 
 AN UNEXPECTED GUEST 
 
 then as long as you wish it I will do my 
 best to hunt as hard and ride as straight as 
 a Sartoris should I thank you very much 
 and I'll hold the whip you give me till it 
 it can go into better hands." 
 
 Overjoyed at the turn of events the old 
 Marquis hastened to the table, filled a big 
 bumper and then motioned to all the com- 
 pany to do the same. 
 
 "Ladies and gentlemen," he cried, "the 
 hounds wait! It's time for a stirrup cup! 
 Fill your glasses ! I give you a toast." 
 
 Cries of "the Whip" and "Lady Di" 
 greeted him. 
 
 "Yes, the Whip and Lady Di," he said, 
 "and not only the Whip and my dear Di 
 for the Whip may soon have a new handle 
 to its name " 
 
 A general murmur greeted this statement. 
 
 "Falconhurst and Rievers may be bound 
 by a new thong," went on Beverley. "On a 
 day like this it's a great pleasure to ask you 
 149
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 to drink not only to your new Whip to my 
 grandchild Di but to the future " 
 
 The strident tones of a big footman at the 
 'door interrupted him, or rather inserted 
 themselves into the pause he had intended 
 to be impressive. 
 
 The footman's word completed the Mar- 
 quis's sentence, but they also gave a sinister 
 threat, a tragic turn to the happy course of 
 events. 
 
 "Lady Brancaster," announced the foot- 
 man, while all turned their eyes to the door- 
 way to behold Mrs. D'Aquila smiling 
 coldly. 
 
 150
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 A POOR DESSERT 
 
 FOR a moment there was a general silence 
 after half the company had got to its feet. 
 Haslam moved toward Sartoris as if he re- 
 quired the assisting strength of his person- 
 ality. Beverley turned toward the woman 
 standing there coolly self-possessed. 
 
 "Madam!" he exclaimed. 
 
 In a most decided drawing-room manner 
 Mrs. D'Aquila faced him. 
 
 "Lord Beverley, pray forgive this er * 
 intrusion," she said sweetly. "Certain ru- 
 mors having reached my ears, I had come 
 to ask for a private talk, with a view to ob- 
 viating a public scandal. But, happily - 
 or unhappily I have just heard the words 
 that have fallen from your lips. Therefore, 
 though I regret the pain that I may cause,
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 it is due to myself that I should speak here 
 as publicly as you have spoken, and say 
 that I am Lord Brancaster's wife." 
 
 Brancaster started forward, his hand at 
 his forehead as he struggled to regain mem- 
 ory of the last days before his accident 
 "Wife?" he almost shouted. "It's a lie!" 
 Lady Diana had gone straight to her 
 grandfather and, ready to fly to the refuge 
 of his arms, stood close to him. 
 
 "Madam," said Beverley in deep pain, "if 
 this is some ill-timed piece of bravado 
 some attempt- 
 But Mrs. D'Aquila took the words from 
 his mouth. 
 
 "It was an attempt to save your grand- 
 daughter humiliation," she said, "Lord Bev- 
 erley; perhaps something worse. It is now 
 an endeavor to assist you in explaining to her 
 exactly my position in this house." 
 
 While Lady Diana's eyes followed Bran- 
 caster wistfully, despairingly, the young 
 152
 
 A POOR DESSERT 
 
 Earl turned to the company of his friends 
 and neighbors. 
 
 "Gentlemen, on my honor " he ex- 
 ploded, "Beverley, this is an outrage! Turn 
 this woman out." 
 
 Beverley seemed half inclined to take the 
 hot-headed suggestion of his neighbor and 
 act upon it. 
 
 "Mrs. D'Aquila, " he began. 
 
 "That is not my name," she said firmly. 
 "You don't believe it?" 
 
 "I believe Brancaster," said the racing 
 Marquis, clasping the hand of the younger 
 man. 
 
 Suddenly the woman held out to him a 
 paper. 
 
 "Then read that," she ordered. 
 
 Beverley, without taking the document 
 into his own hand, looked at it as though 
 it were a thing which might scorch him. It 
 was plainly a marriage certificate. 
 
 "Great Heavens!" he exclaimed. 
 153
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 But Brancaster had been looking over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 "It's forged it's false. You know it," 
 he almost shouted into the face of the smil- 
 ing woman. 
 
 Lord Beverley gave another long look at 
 the document and read there the signature 
 of the Rev. Verner Haslam. He walked 
 slowly toward the clergyman, but not before 
 Sartoris had whispered to him savagely: 
 
 "Stick to it." 
 
 Lord Beverley now had the paper in his 
 own hands and he passed it to Haslam. 
 
 "Mr. Haslam, is this true?" he asked. 
 
 But Verner Haslam did not look at the 
 document. Speaking with the greatest pos- 
 sible effort he slightly bowed, as he answered 
 in a low tone : 
 
 "That is my signature, Lord Beverley." 
 
 His manifest difficulty in speaking only 
 strengthened his assertion, as all present 
 thought that the clergyman hesitated merely 
 154
 
 A POOR DESSERT 
 
 because he found a very unpleasant duty be- 
 fore him. 
 
 But Haslam was not to escape without 
 telling a real falsehood. 
 
 "It can't be, Beverley Di I swear," be- 
 gan Brancaster and stopped. 
 
 But Beverley paid no further attention to 
 the pale young girl. To the clergyman he 
 turned, asking: 
 
 "And it's true that you married them 
 that they are man and wife?" 
 
 Again Haslam bowed, and then as he felt 
 the cold menacing eyes of Sartoris on him 
 he managed to add a hoarse: 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 With a half sob and a scream, Lady Diana 
 flung herself into the arms of Lord Bever- 
 ley. The old man gathered her closely to 
 himself, and then glowered upon the smiling 
 Mrs. D'Aquila and the stricken Brancaster 
 equally. 
 
 "You hound," he said sternly to Brancas- 
 155
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 ter, "you, knowing this, come here and 
 would have Out of my sight, both of 
 you Turn this woman and this black- 
 guard out of my house I"
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 BRANCASTER PLUNGES AGAIN 
 
 THREE weeks after the hunt breakfast at Fal- 
 conhurst had ended so disastrously for Bran- 
 caster and Lady Diana, Sartoris and Mrs. 
 D'Aquila met in a corridor of the stables at 
 the London horse show. 
 
 Sartoris had been making secret signals 
 to the woman as she sat in a box with a party 
 of her Bohemian friends. 
 
 "Ah, at last!" he exclaimed in relief, hur- 
 rying to meet her as she came down the cor- 
 ridor. 
 
 Mrs. D'Aquila glanced to the right and 
 to the left as she walked swiftly along. Her 
 name and face were in every newspaper in 
 the United Kingdom because of the great 
 D'Aquila-Brancaster case, begun when she 
 started her suit to prove her marriage. 
 157
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "I could not get away from my friends 
 before," she said anxiously, "but I ought not 
 to meet you all " 
 
 "I am not sure that I ought," returned 
 Sartoris far from feeling at ease himself, 
 "with a chance of Beverley's seeing us, but it 
 is so important, and surely for a moment, in 
 public" 
 
 "Nowhere," said the woman, decisively. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because Brancaster fights to a finish to 
 prove that I am not his wife his lawyers 
 follow the wildest clews sift the smallest 
 suspicion. He has me followed by detec- 
 tives everywhere dogged says openly 
 I've heard it if I win my case and prove the 
 marriage he'll divorce me on the first 
 chance." 
 
 "Another divorce!" exclaimed Captain 
 Sartoris, in good-natured satire. 
 
 "But he shan't!" she said, setting her teeth 
 together, 
 
 158
 
 "Quite so," he returned. "Heroine of the 
 greatest society scandal of the century. 
 Wife or no wife? Columns in the daily 
 press, pictures in the weekly. Fabulous of- 
 fers from the music hall syndicates!" 
 
 "And every shilling I possess going to the 
 lawyers," she lamented. "But I'll spend ev- 
 ery shilling, raise every shilling, pawn my 
 last diamond and then I'll starve until they 
 own me Lady Brancaster." 
 
 "I know you'd like it," he sighed. "I 
 wish you were Lady Brancaster in all truth." 
 
 "What do you want?" she asked shortly. 
 
 "What you owe me for the title," he said. 
 
 "Money?" 
 
 "My name is on a bill that I must meet 
 to-morrow for three thousand. I want a 
 bit of ready money for interest then with 
 time, and the chance of a lucky win If 
 I could know to-night I daren't let you go 
 to my rooms or go myself to yours. Isn't 
 there some good, safe, neutral spot, where 
 159
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 no one in the world ever goes, in a crowd?" 
 
 She reflected a moment 
 
 "I have it," she exclaimed, "no one who 
 knows us ever goes there. It's Tussaud's, 
 the wax works. Be there at ten sharp. It 
 closes early." 
 
 With a word of appreciation for her sharp 
 and nimble wit Sartoris left her, their en- 
 gagement made for that night. 
 
 Sartoris had scarcely vanished around an 
 angle of the corridor, when who should sud- 
 denly confront Mrs. D'Aquila but Lady 
 Diana, her grandfather and Mrs. Beamish, 
 who appeared upon the scene from the op- 
 posite direction to that in which Sartoris had 
 opportunely made his escape. 
 
 Mrs. D'Aquila met the newcomers coolly. 
 She strolled past them and deliberately 
 looked them up and down, without so much 
 as a word or a nod of recognition. Then 
 with her head held high, she swept slowly 
 and insolently away. 
 
 1 60
 
 BRANCASTER PLUNGES AGAIN 
 
 Lord Beverley stood still, with com- 
 pressed lips. 
 
 "I always disliked that woman!" Mrs. 
 Beamish sputtered, unable to control her 
 feelings. 
 
 "I wonder how she dare show her face!" 
 Lady Diana said, red with embarrassment. 
 
 "My dear, it's a public place. She's a 
 right to be here," her grandfather remon- 
 strated. 
 
 "Calling herself Lady Brancaster!" And 
 the suspicion of a tear trembled on one of 
 her lovely eyelashes. 
 
 "I know what I should like to call herP 
 Mrs. Beamish exclaimed spitefully. "The 
 hussy!" 
 
 "The law will tell us what to call her 
 and other people, in time, Betty we need 
 not discuss it till then," Beverley said 
 quietly. And then, to change the subject 
 
 "Where's your hack, Di?" he asked. 
 
 "Here, dear " And Lady Diana turned 
 161
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 to one of the box-stalls from which a sleek 
 head was thrust out, in appeal for a lump of 
 sugar. 
 
 "And where's Lambert? He ought to be 
 here, looking after the mare." 
 
 Mrs. Beamish sniffed quite audibly, as she 
 said, half to herself 
 
 "And he's somewhere else, looking after 
 the fillies." 
 
 And at that moment Tom Lambert came 
 bustling up to them. 
 
 "Well, Tom?" Lord Beverley greeted 
 him, inquiringly. 
 
 " 'Fraid it's no go, my lord. Mare went 
 very short this mornin'. Had her leg under 
 the cold douche for an hour but 'tis still very 
 'ot and puffy feels like the ligament. 
 'Fraid we can't show her!" 
 
 Lady Diana patted the pretty creature. 
 
 "Poor darling!" she said, as the mare 
 pressed her silky nose into her mistress' hand. 
 162
 
 BRANCASTER PLUNGES AGAIN 
 
 "Would you like the bandage off?" Lam- 
 bert asked the Marquis. 
 
 "No, no! You know more about legs 
 than I do. If you say she's lame, that set- 
 tles it, Tom." Lord Beverley looked over 
 the rail with disappointment, for he knew 
 that his granddaughter's heart was set on the 
 mare's winning. 
 
 "I am disappointed. I know we should 
 have won," Lady Diana said sorrowfully. 
 
 "Looked like it, my lady, yesterday," Tom 
 remarked. "But you can't be certain of 
 nothing with 'osses." 
 
 Lady Diana smiled, for she knew that the 
 trainer was trying in his clumsy way, to 
 comfort her; and she lowered her voice as 
 she inquired 
 
 "Not of the Two Thousand, Tom?" 
 
 Lambert held up a warning ringer, while 
 Lord Beverley glanced round the corridor 
 suspiciously.
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "There's nothing certain in this world, my 
 dear Di, except income tax and influenza," 
 he warned his granddaughter. 
 
 At this juncture the big double doors lead- 
 ing to the arena opened briefly to allow a 
 top-hatted gentleman and a steward to pass 
 through. 
 
 "Eh? Oh! Clanmore!" Lord Beverley 
 exclaimed pleasantly, as he recognized a 
 friend. 
 
 "Wonder if I could ask you a favor?" the 
 newcomer said. 
 
 "Should think so if you tried hard," was 
 Beverley's bantering answer. 
 
 "Well, for each of our competitions here 
 there are three judges one English, one 
 American, and one Continental " 
 
 "Verdict in Volapuk, or Esperanto?" the 
 Marquis inquired, drily. 
 
 "There'll be none at all for the high jump 
 ' it's on now if we can't get someone to do 
 164
 
 BRANCASTER PLUNGES AGAIN 
 
 deputy for our chap got kicked on the knee 
 and had to leave the arena. If you would 
 only volunteer, everyone would be delighted 
 there'd be no delay and " Lord Clan- 
 more stopped, with a most appealing look at 
 Lady Diana's grandfather. 
 
 Lord Beverley was quite willing. 
 
 "Certainly with pleasure it won't take 
 long?" he asked. 
 
 "No time. Announce Lord Beverley 
 at once," he said, turning to the steward. 
 "Come along!" he finished, waving a hand 
 at the Marquis. 
 
 "Di?" said Lord Beverley, in a low voice. 
 
 "Yes, dear." 
 
 "I thought just now I saw Brancaster." 
 There was seriousness in her grandfather's 
 manner. 
 
 "Yes?" And she looked up somewhat 
 sadly. 
 
 "If you should meet, you will remember
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 that he is a stranger. Under no circum- 
 stances will you speak to him. Promise 
 
 me" 
 
 "I I don't want to promise." 
 
 "Very well, but you know my wish my 
 very earnest wish, and you will remember 
 it and respect it, dear, I feel sure." Lord 
 Beverley showed more concern than was his 
 habit, as he followed Clanmore to the arena 
 door, and he stopped and looked back for a 
 moment before he passed through into the 
 tan bark enclosure. 
 
 Lady Diana strolled slowly along the cor- 
 ridor, examining the beautifully groomed 
 occupants of the boxes, leaving her compan- 
 ion and the trainer standing in front of the 
 mare's stall. 
 
 "So disappointing the mare can't com- 
 pete! When did she injure herself, Lam- 
 bert?" Mrs. Beamish asked with solicitude. 
 
 "When she forgot she was a 'orse and be- 
 haved like a donkey when she lost her tem- 
 166
 
 BRANCASTER PLUNGES AGAIN 
 
 per, like the rest of her sex, an' made a fool 
 of herself," the trainer answered, with more 
 than a trace of irritation, for he still smarted 
 from the lady's late insinuations in regard 
 to Myrtle Anson. 
 
 Mrs. Beamish bridled under the unex- 
 pected attack. 
 
 "Men never make fools of themselves!" 
 she retorted. 
 
 "No. Women make fools of 'em," Lam- 
 bert said, scoring handily. 
 
 "And girls. So I've noticed." And she 
 gloated triumphantly over the discomfited 
 Lambert. 
 
 Meanwhile Lady Diana was surprised by 
 an unexpected greeting 
 
 "Hullo Di why aren't you riding?" 
 It was Sartoris, suave and elegant in fault- 
 less city garb. 
 
 "Can't," she answered, giving him the 
 hand he claimed. "Isn't it bad luck? The 
 mare's lame." 
 
 167
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "I'm awfully sorry. Some pals of mine 
 came on purpose to see you." 
 
 "Who?" she asked him. 
 
 "Er Linconshire people you don't 
 know them I've just come from their box 
 the girl asked me to get your autograph 
 shove it in her book, and I'll take it back 
 kind of consolation, eh ! here's a style." 
 
 "It's just like yours, Greville," Ladj; 
 Diana remarked. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "The book!" she replied, as she took it 
 from him. 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 "The little bits of blue paper," she ex- 
 plained, "let in like photographs." 
 
 "Er yes and taken out like 'em if the 
 page gets soiled, don't you see or the er 
 collector wants to swap them with another 
 lunatic." And the Captain laughed in his 
 easy fashion. 
 
 "Do they really do that?" Lady Diana 
 168
 
 BRANCASTER PLUNGES AGAIN 
 
 asked him in astonishment, as she wrote her 
 name in the book. She was not much given 
 to the lesser frivolities of her sex. 
 
 "Rather 1" the Captain answered. "Aw- 
 fully keen bargainers some of 'em knew a 
 chap once who actually got three good bish- 
 ops for quite an indifferent ballet girl." 
 
 Lady Diana laughed. 
 
 "Don't be ridiculous!" she said. 
 
 "I was never more serious in my life 
 believe me. Thanks so much. I'll take it 
 now," he added, holding out a hand for the 
 book. 
 
 Faint shouts and hoots from the arena now 
 reached their ears, causing Lady Diana to 
 approach the great doors, which opened mo- 
 mentarily, affording her a glimpse of the 
 scene within. Then, turning, she saw a 
 group of friends standing at some little dis- 
 tance up the corridor. They recognized her 
 and beckoned. 
 
 Greville Sartoris, meanwhile, dallied in 
 169
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 front of one of the boxes, glancing covertly 
 over his shoulder at his charming cousin. 
 And then, as the girl moved away to join the 
 knot of pleasure-seekers who had summoned 
 her, the Captain opened the autograph book. 
 He quickly slipped out the piece of paper 
 on which Lady Diana had written her name, 
 regarded it searchingly, triumphantly, for 
 an instant, and then placed it in his pocket. 
 
 And then with a satisfied sigh Captain 
 Sartoris strolled away, carrying with him in 
 his waistcoat pocket a promissory note, made 
 out in the most approved fashion, payable to 
 Greville Sartoris, and signed at the bottom 
 by that rich and well-known young sports- 
 woman his cousin, Diana Sartoris. 
 
 In the meantime, Mrs. Beamish and Lam- 
 bert had been joined by a party of merry- 
 makers from the Falconhurst estate, the 
 mare's box-stall offering a convenient ren- 
 dezvous for Lord Beverley's dependents. 
 
 "Why, bless me, what are you all doing?" 
 170
 
 BRANCASTER PLUNGES AGAIN 
 
 Mrs. Beamish exclaimed, as the country peo- 
 ple, arrayed in holiday finery, surrounded 
 her. 
 
 "Come up by the 'scursion, ma'm, just for 
 a day's pleasure, with his lordship's leave, 
 us and Mary the second 'ousemaid, George 
 Walter, and the under gardener's brother-in- 
 law who's 'ome from the sea started at five 
 this morning we did," answered Tomlin, one 
 of the Beverley kennel-men. 
 
 "Pretty early!" said Mrs. Beamish. 
 
 "It was that. Fourteen in the carriage, 
 and didn't arrive till eleven." 
 
 "Quite a pleasure trip. Where did you 
 go?" she asked. 
 
 "Begun at the Zoo." 
 
 "What did you think of the animals?" 
 
 "All right for furriners, ma'rhl" put in 
 Bunting, the head whip, "but give me the 
 foxes 1" 
 
 "Then we went to the Tower," Tomlin 
 continued. 
 
 171
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "And 'Enery put his head on the block. 
 Didn't you, 'Enery?" And Mrs. Bunting 
 appealed proudly to her progeny, which 
 clung tightly to her skirt. 
 
 " Yes," blurted 'Enery. 
 
 "The young 'un knows how to enjoy him- 
 self," Tomlin explained, complacently. 
 
 "Evidently," Mrs. Beamish smiled. 
 
 "And when we go to the Wax Works he's 
 to see the Chamber of 'Orrors I've always 
 promised him haven't I, 'Enery?" And 
 'Enery's mother patted the young scion on 
 the crown of its hat. 
 
 "Yes. I want to see Dr. Crippen," 'En- 
 ery whined. 
 
 "Dear light-hearted pet," Mrs. Beamish 
 laughed. 
 
 "But we thought we'd come here first " 
 Tomlin continued. 
 
 "Just to see the difference. Are the oth- 
 ers here?" Mrs. Beamish asked. 
 172
 
 BRANCASTER PLUNGES AGAIN 
 
 Tomlin evidenced some discomfiture at 
 this query. 
 
 "Well, ma'm, the gardener's brother-in- 
 law had a little trouble in the Tube," he 
 said, lamely. 
 
 "And a lot of whisky out of it?" Mrs. 
 [Beamish was relentless. 
 
 "Well, sailors are always that free " 
 Tomlin stammered. 
 
 "I hope he'll be when the day's over," 
 she said grimly. "Mind none of you get 
 lost!" 
 
 " 'Case we do, ma'm," Tomlin explained, 
 with an air, "we've all fixed to meet at the 
 Wax Works nine o'clock and then to St. 
 Pancras for the last train." 
 
 Mrs. Beamish could not forego a few 
 words of warning for these rustics. 
 
 "Well, I hope you all catch it," she said, 
 "and thoroughly enjoy yourself. And mind 
 nobody picks your pockets," she cautioned.
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "In London there are thieves everywhere." 
 
 "That's all right, ma'm. We're York- 
 shire," Tomlin assured her, confident of his 
 own ability to take care of the entire party, 
 if it were necessary. 
 
 "Good show, Tom?" he asked the trainer. 
 
 "Might be if they chucked in a clown 
 and a tight rope. I like 'osses in their 
 places in the stable or on the grass," Lam- 
 bert grumbled. He had not recovered 
 from the sting of Mrs. Beamish's biting sar- 
 casm. 
 
 "Same 'ere. Wish you could get off for 
 an hour with us." 
 
 "I'd like to. See if I can't pick you up 
 later p'raps at the Wax Works. I want 
 to see them particular." 
 
 At this point young Henry sent up a sud- 
 den and tremendous wail. 
 
 "Mother I want some milk I want a 
 glass of milk!" he howled. 
 
 This sudden demand of nature reminded
 
 BRANCASTER PLUNGES AGAIN 
 
 them all that the inner man would not be in- 
 definitely denied. And Bunting wiped his 
 mouth with anticipation as he said 
 
 "Quite right, my son, we all do! Give 
 us your 'and and I'll lead you to it." 
 
 And the joyful party hurried away to find 
 a refreshment stand, leaving Mrs. Beamish 
 and Lambert unceremoniously behind. 
 
 "What on earth does a man at your time 
 of life want with wax works?" that lady 
 asked scornfully. 
 
 "Nothing wrong with 'em, is there?" 
 
 "If there isn't, you're the man to corrupt 
 them," and Mrs. Beamish spoke with great 
 conviction. 
 
 "Now Mrs. B.," Tom began. 
 
 "Mish!" the uncompromising female stip- 
 ulated. 
 
 Lambert look at her apprehensively. He 
 knew that there were times when women, 
 like horses, must be humored. 
 
 "Well Beamish then, if you will 'ave
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 it," he conceded. "You needn't be so hard 
 on a chap. When we 'aven't had a pleas- 
 ant little talk so to say for nigh on six 
 weeks." 
 
 "It's not my fault that it isn't longer," she 
 told him. 
 
 "Not since that even' in the Eyetalian 
 Garden at Falconhurst." 
 
 "Where the Myrtles come from and go 
 to." Tom had made a fatal mistake in re- 
 calling that particular spot to Mrs. Beam- 
 ish's mind. 
 
 "Still 'arping on that!" he groaned. 
 
 "I am!" 
 
 "Mrs. B. " he implored. 
 
 "Mish, if you please " and the unyield- 
 ing woman fixed him with a hostile eye. 
 
 "Beamish, then. There ain't no more be- 
 tween me and Myrtle than there is between 
 me and the moon." 
 
 "Moonshine! Tom Lambert, you'll 
 never make me believe that if you talk till 
 176
 
 BRANCASTER PLUNGES AGAIN 
 
 you're black in the face instead of red." 
 
 Mrs. Beamish knew that the trainer's 
 ruddy color was a source of anxiety to the 
 man. 
 
 "Very well, Mrs. B mish in that case 
 I'll go and 'ave a glass of milk as it is said 
 to be good for the complexion." 
 
 "Ha! Drink!" There was a world of 
 conviction in the lady's tone. 
 
 "Yes, drink, and it's you as 'ave drove me 
 to it so now you know." And Tom turned 
 away in a rage, just as Lady Diana came 
 back to join her companion. 
 
 "What's the matter, Betty?" she laughed, 
 perceiving Lambert's annoyance. 
 
 "Lambert!" was the laconic answer. "In 
 his second childhood talking of going to 
 wax works!" And Mrs. Beamish was too 
 disgusted to see any humor in the situation. 
 
 "Well, but they all do ! Even Harry An- 
 son and Myrtle " Lady Diana could not 
 conceal her amusement. 
 177
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "What! Is she in town?" Mrs. Beam- 
 ish was startled. 
 
 "Oh, yes. They came up with the others 
 and she came to see my maid Saker, you 
 know, and she told her she's going to meet 
 them all there." 
 
 "I've no doubt!" said Mrs. Beamish, and 
 her lips tightened. "And so'm I !" she fin- 
 ished firmly. 
 
 Then the doors of the arena opened to al- 
 low several people to pass out among them 
 two old friends of the Beverley household 
 a Mrs. Pelham and Capt. Rayner. 
 
 "Ah! Mrs. Beamish mornin' what 
 d'you think of the show, eh?" Capt. Rayner 
 asked Lady Diana's companion. 
 
 "Splendid! Compromise between a 
 flower show and a circus. It only wants a 
 young person with tarlatan skirts and tissue 
 paper hoops." 
 
 It was plain that Mrs. Beamish was not 
 enjoying herself particularly. 
 178
 
 BRANCASTER PLUNGES AGAIN 
 
 "Chance for you, Mrs. Beamish!" the 
 Captain told her with amusement. 
 
 "Thanks. I'll leave the bare-back act to 
 society beauties." 
 
 "Betty's in a bad temper," laughed Lady 
 Diana. 
 
 "Doesn't she like the ring?" Mrs. Pelham 
 inquired. 
 
 "No. I think it's even dull," Mrs. Beam- 
 ish answered. "You performing?" she 
 asked Rayner. 
 
 "My team is four bays," the Captain an- 
 swered with pride in his voice. 
 
 Mrs. Beamish consulted her list. 
 
 "I see 'em with no names," she said. 
 "I'll christen 'em for you. What are they 
 like?" 
 
 "Two of 'em ripping! Full of form " 
 the Captain began, bubbling over with en- 
 thusiasm. 
 
 "Ah! Pegwell Bay and Herne Bay!" 
 
 "One's a tiny bit off color," he objected. 
 179
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "Ah! Sick Bay!" Mrs. Beamish corrected 
 herself with pleasure. 
 
 "And the other's as full of spirit as 
 
 "Bay Rum!" she interrupted. They 
 laughed, while Mrs. Beamish looked at her 
 list again. 
 
 "And I see somebody's got four 
 browns " 
 
 "Name them, Mrs. Beamish," Captain 
 Rayner implored her, with mock serious- 
 ness. 
 
 "Oh, Brown, Jones, and Robinson!" she 
 enumerated. 
 
 "But there are four, Betty," Lady Diana 
 said. 
 
 "Oh, very well Peter RoBinson, then." 
 
 Their bantering was interrupted by a 
 wrangling uproar. 
 
 "Good gracious what's that!" Mrs. 
 Beamish exclaimed. 
 
 "Look out there mind the ladies!" 
 someone shouted. It was Sartoris' voice 
 180
 
 BRANCASTER PLUNGES AGAIN 
 
 that gave the warning cry, as a struggling 
 horse burst from the arena, with its rider 
 sawing wildly on the bit, while a groom 
 clung to the fractious animal's head. It 
 was Kelly, the plunging bookmaker, who 
 sat in the saddle. 
 
 "Take the brute away!" cried Lord Clan- 
 more from the entrance. 
 
 "I object I object!" Kelly bawled, 
 thickly. 
 
 "Then confound you, go home and ob- 
 ject!" Clanmore retorted. 
 
 "You can't order me " Kelly began, 
 ponderously. 
 
 Clanmore shook a warning finger at the 
 man. 
 
 "The judges have ordered you out of the 
 ring, Mr. Kelly, because your brute's dan- 
 gerous and you can't ride. If you ask me 
 I should say you were drunk." Then, to 
 the attendants "He doesn't come back^ 
 mind," he added. 
 
 181
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "Drunk what's that you look here 
 Kelly stammered, trying to dismount, in the 
 process of which he slipped and fell sprawl- 
 ing upon the floor. Then, as the groom 
 led away his mount, the erstwhile rider 
 scrambled with difficulty to his feet, shout- 
 ing 
 
 "I'll jolly soon show you who's 
 drunk!" 
 
 Sartoris stepped quickly in front of the 
 infuriated man. 
 
 "Kelly! Kelly! I say now listen to 
 me a minute," he said, as he took Kelly's 
 arm and led him aside. 
 
 "D'you say I'm drunk?" Kelly demanded, 
 shaking himself free. 
 
 "Certainly not," the Captain told him, 
 soothingly. "Bit excited. Disheveled, 
 that's all. What you want is just a brush 
 up. So much in appearance, you know." 
 
 "He says I'm drunk!" Kelly shouted. 
 
 "Well, well, he's a teetotaler and per- 
 182
 
 BRANCASTER PLUNGES AGAIN 
 
 haps you have been lunching " Sartoris 
 smiled in spite of himself. 
 
 "What's a bottle of cham?" Kelly de- 
 manded. 
 
 "Gooseberry very often," Sartoris an- 
 swered, truly. 
 
 "Mine ain't!" Kelly regarded the Cap- 
 tain with indignation at the fancied insult. 
 
 "Of course not, but if you add quantity 
 to quality ' Sartoris said. 
 
 "I never stint my pals, when they're at 
 my table," Kelly affirmed righteously. 
 
 "Oh, you have been celebrating?" 
 
 "Rather!" 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Best day's racing we ever had yesterday. 
 Four skinners out o' six. Lord! Didn't 
 we rip it off Brancaster!" And Kelly's 
 laugh at his pleasant recollection drove his 
 fuddled resentment entirely out of his mind. 
 
 "He was betting heavily?" Sartoris ques- 
 tioned. 
 
 183
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "You know him. Plunging to get home 
 double or quits double or quits but no 
 quits this time." Kelly no longer laughed; 
 on the contrary, his red eyes glared savagely 
 at the Captain. 
 
 "You don't like him?" Sartoris asked. 
 
 "No! 'Cos he stands up to me, dares to 
 bet bigger. But I'll break him 'fore I've 
 done wi' him." 
 
 And as Kelly uttered his hostile threat, 
 who should emerge from the arena exit but 
 Lord Brancaster himself. 
 
 "Mornin', my Lord!" said Kelly, lurch- 
 ing toward Brancaster, and ostentatiously 
 raising his hat. "Any fancy for a bet to- 
 day Derby Oaks or Leger?" he in- 
 quired, while Sartoris made his escape, as 
 if he were glad to rid himself of the situa- 
 tion. 
 
 "No, thank you, Kelly," Lord Brancaster 
 replied, nodding shortly. 
 184
 
 BRANCASTER PLUNGES AGAIN 
 
 "Two thousand?" Kelly demanded. 
 
 "No, thanks." 
 
 Kelly pursued his quarry with great en- 
 ergy. 
 
 "Think I don't mean it think I'm drunk 
 maybe? 'Ere d'you know what they've 
 been saying?" He waved a hand un- 
 steadily, indicating the arena. "In there? 
 I ask you am I drunk?" 
 
 "Oh, please er don't appeal to me," 
 Brancaster said, embarrassed. 
 
 "Why not? You've asked me favors, and 
 will again." 
 
 "I hope not," the young man answered, 
 quietly. 
 
 "Do you? Well you will and I'll be 
 there. Come on now two thousand any 
 outsider twenty to one sixty to one for 
 a monkey frightened?" 
 
 "I've no fancy," said Brancaster. 
 
 Kelly snorted. 
 
 185
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "And no pluck? Bah to a thousand 
 what will you have?" He pressed Bran- 
 caster closely. 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "I'll make it easy if you're short," the 
 man persisted. "I'll wait I did before 
 didn't I, when you was getting out that 
 last mortgage, I waited. And I will 
 again " 
 
 Brancaster ground his teeth and glanced 
 helplessly at the onlookers. And control- 
 ling himself with a visible effort, he an- 
 swered, simply: 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Kelly." 
 
 "Then have a bet!" Kelly continued, in 
 wheedling tones now "If I mayn't ride in 
 there, I must have a bet out here coom on, 
 just to oblige for a thousand 
 
 "I'm not betting," said Brancaster, firmly. 
 
 "Oh . . ." Kelly exclaimed, through 
 pursed lips. "Well, of course, if it is like 
 that I'm sorry. But on Monday don't 
 186
 
 BRANCASTER PLUNGES AGAIN 
 
 forget I'm here Joe Kelly, as can buy 
 and sell you twice over if you want money 
 here he is you've only to ask him wait- 
 ing to oblige waiting for you, my lord, 
 whenever you've got the brass or got the 
 pluck to come along!" 
 
 And he took his hat off, sweeping it low in 
 mock courtesy, and staggered off down the 
 passage, to find Lord Clanmore and once 
 more make his protest. 
 
 From a little table at the side of a bower 
 Lady Diana and Mrs. Beamish had heard 
 Kelly's words. Suddenly the elder woman 
 leaned toward Lady Diana. 
 
 "Di do you believe that he married that 
 woman?" she asked quickly. 
 
 "No," said Lady Diana decisively. 
 
 "Then speak to him speak to him," said 
 the dry voice of the chaperone with some 
 little tinge of sentiment. "It's just what he's 
 breaking his heart for, I'll swear, and I 
 won't look." 
 
 187
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 Lady Diana needed no further urging, 
 but went at once to Brancaster. 
 
 "Lord Brancaster, Hubert," she said in a 
 low voice. 
 
 At once the Earl turned to her. 
 
 "You, Di !" he exclaimed. "Do you still 
 believe in me?" 
 
 "Yes, in spite of everything in spite of 
 everybody. And it's because I believe in 
 you that you mustn't lose faith in yourself. 
 Do you hear me?" 
 
 "God bless you, Di." 
 
 "Did you think I'd desert you? Grand- 
 dad made me promise not to write, but all 
 the time I've been hoping that I might meet 
 you that I might hear from you." 
 
 "And you believe," sighed Brancaster, 
 "although I have no proof to put against 
 that woman's story although I can't ac- 
 count for those lost days. Ah, if I onlj 
 could remember!" 
 
 188
 
 BRANCASTER PLUNGES AGAIN 
 
 "Perhaps you will, some day and mean- 
 while, what's love without trust? And I 
 love you, Hubert." 
 
 They were close by a little bower of min- 
 iature trees and Brancaster suddenly took 
 the girl in his arms. 
 
 She permitted the embrace but for a mo- 
 ment, and then slipped from his arms, con- 
 scious of the fact that there was more for 
 them to do than to deal merely with the 
 superficials of love. 
 
 "And now we've only a few moments 
 " she said breathlessly, "tell me is it true 
 what that man hinted almost said, that 
 you're ruined?" 
 
 "All but," returned Brancaster; "I've bet, 
 plunged, deeper and deeper, till there's 
 next to nothing left." 
 
 "But don't you see that by doing that," 
 chided the girl, "you were confirming every- 
 thing that people said about you? If you 
 189
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 were once free of difficulties you'd 
 promise me never to bet again to plunge 
 again?" 
 
 "With all my heart," said Brancaster sin- 
 cerely. 
 
 "Then listen," said Lady Diana. "The 
 Whip has had her trial and come out of it 
 with flying colors. Grand-dad says he's 
 never had such a horse in his stables and 
 that nothing can stand against her for the 
 Two Thousand. Couldn't you 
 
 But there was no need for her to finish 
 her sentence. 
 
 "Back her?" exclaimed Brancaster excit- 
 edly. "Yes for every shilling I'm worth 
 and find means to fight the enemy, to win, 
 to victory and you." 
 
 A voice at the other end of the room made 
 them turn. 
 
 "Kelly," said Lady Diana pointing, her 
 tone conveying a strong suggestion to Bran- 
 caster. 
 
 190
 
 BRANCASTER PLUNGES AGAIN 
 
 "I say I want Lord Clanmore," sputtered 
 Kelly. "I'm Joe Kelly. I'm known and 
 respected, I am. I can buy the ring or 
 break it if I want to make the biggest 
 book on earth bet thousands to your 
 fivers " His last words were directed at 
 Lord Brancaster. 
 
 Brancaster and Lady Diana smiled 
 happily. 
 
 "You daren't lay me the odds in thou- 
 sands," suggested the young man. 
 
 "Daren't I?" returned Kelly scornfully. 
 "To anything you fancy." 
 
 "For the Guineas?" said Brancaster. 
 
 "Yes, the favorite to ten thousand," 
 shouted Kelly. 
 
 His loud words and Lord Brancaster's 
 reputation for plunging, drew a crowd at 
 once which seemed to spring from all the 
 byways and pressed closely about the two 
 principals. On its outskirts Lady Diana 
 watched the two. 
 
 191
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "No," returned Brancaster to Kelly's offer 
 on the favorite. 
 
 "Black Eagle?" suggested the book- 
 maker. 
 
 "No bet." 
 
 "Raynardo," came from Kelly. 
 
 "No good," said Brancaster. , 
 
 "Black Diamond," countered Kelly. 
 
 "The field," Brancaster offered. 
 
 "Yes," said Kelly instantly; "bar that 
 lot twenties " 
 
 "Twenty thousand to one," said Bran- 
 caster while the crowd all but cheered. 
 
 "Yes," returned Kelly shortly. 
 
 "Twice," flaunted Brancaster. 
 
 "Three times," defied Kelly. 
 
 "Done," answered Brancaster in his turn. 
 
 "Done! Name your horse," shouted 
 Kelly. 
 
 "The Whipl" exclaimed Brancaster, all 
 but shouting. 
 
 IQ2
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 CAPTAIN SARTORIS RECEIVES 
 
 CAPTAIN GREVILLE SARTORIS had eaten a 
 lone but excellent dinner in his chambers, 
 when his man announced the Rev. Verner 
 Haslam. The Captain, busy with his coffee 
 percolator, directed that his caller be shown 
 in. 
 
 A moment later Haslam, with pallid 
 cheeks, fairly bolted into the room. 
 
 "They're after me, after me!" he panted, 
 his hands and knees trembling. 
 
 "Who are?" demanded Lady Diana's 
 cousin sardonically. 
 
 "Detectives," returned the trembling man 
 of the robe. "Ever since the Brancaster 
 case began I've been hunted, hunted, I'm 
 dogged by them." 
 
 193
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 Sartoris shot a contemptuous glance at the 
 man, exclaiming 
 
 "Rats!" 
 
 "D don't," Haslam said, jumping nerv- 
 ously. 
 
 Greville Sartoris sneered. 
 
 "As bad as that, eh?" he commented. 
 "Not only dogged, but rats after you! 
 Well, don't you worry yourself, leave the 
 dogs to worry the rats. One's about as real 
 as the other." 
 
 The curate's throat worked convulsively 
 and his hands opened and closed involun- 
 tarily, in his excitement. 
 
 "I tell you, it's true," he gasped. "I'm 
 shadowed " 
 
 "Then why on earth come here?" Sar- 
 toris asked him. 
 
 "To tell you that I can't go on with it," 
 Haslam groaned "that I'd rather make a 
 clean breast of " 
 
 194
 
 CAPTAIN SARTORIS RECEIVES 
 
 "You mean a dirty record," Sartoris 
 snarled, in disgust. 
 
 "Even that's better than going to jail." 
 It was clear that the man was in a blue 
 funk, which not even the Captain's taunts 
 could dispel. 
 
 "Confessions won't keep you out of it 
 Shut up and jail's a bare possibility; own 
 up and it's a dead cert," Sartoris told him, 
 lighting a cigar. 
 
 Haslam sank into a chair and covered his 
 face with his hands. 
 
 "Oh! what shall I do what shall I do?" 
 he sobbed. 
 
 "Do!" said Greville, with a calm all the 
 more marked because of Haslam's agitation 
 ' "try to be a man for once, and not a cur." 
 
 "You don't know what I've been through I 
 
 I've never had a moment's peace since I did 
 
 it. I can't sleep, I can't eat." He rose and 
 
 walked quickly to the table, stretching a 
 
 195
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 hand toward the brandy bottle that stood 
 there. But the Captain stopped him. 
 
 "You can drink evidently," Greville said 
 viciously, "and you do get the jumps and 
 go skulking about like a furtive thief to give 
 the whole case away before you even go into 
 the witness box." 
 
 Haslam started and his wild eyes seemed 
 to see some far-off horror. 
 
 "What's that! The witness-box! I 
 daren't! I can't face it I can't. I can't-^ 
 I can't!" His voice rose to a shriek. 
 
 "Can't what?" asked Sartoris, in the tone 
 one would use in speaking to an unreason- 
 able child. 
 
 "I can't stand there and swear to a lie be- 
 fore Almighty God! I, a clerk in holy or- 
 ders!" 
 
 "Holy skittles!" And the Captain ex- 
 haled a cloud of smoke. "I'm going to do it. 
 I'm up to the neck in it just as much as you 
 196
 
 CAPTAIN SARTORIS RECEIVES 
 
 are and I'm prepared to swear that black's 
 white." 
 
 "You're a different sort of man from me," 
 Haslam told him. 
 
 "I should hope so," with infinite con- 
 tempt "Now look here, Haslam. What 
 you've got to do's to pull yourself together, 
 and trust to me to pull you through. A 
 hundred to one we win and then you can 
 make a fresh start with money in your 
 pocket but blab, and it's all up. Jail 
 
 first the gutter after for who'll help you 
 
 
 
 except me? Well?" And he waited a 
 bit impatiently. 
 
 Haslam thought a moment before he an- 
 swered. 
 
 "I'll I'll go on but I've no money * 
 I've no place to lay my head." 
 
 "It isn't an egg and you're not a chicken 
 though you do want to cackle," Sartoris 
 said flippantly. "Now look here! I've 
 197
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 got a little cottage on the Broads Dane- 
 ham" and he went to his desk and wrote 
 something on an envelope as he talked. 
 
 "I'll give you the address, and wire the 
 old caretaker that you're coming down to- 
 night." 
 
 "To-night?" 
 
 "Yes. You can stay there till you're 
 wanted. The train leaves Fenchurch Street 
 at nine. You'll just have time to catch it in 
 a taxi there's the address," and he handed 
 Haslam the envelope. 
 
 "But the detectives!" the curate objected. 
 
 "We'll dodge them if they're real. 
 You mustn't go back to your lodgings my 
 man'll let you out the back way here, and 
 I'll send a few things down to Mr. er - 
 James Batford that's your new traveling 
 name," and Sartoris smiled with amusement 
 as he looked at the fellow. 
 
 "And meantime I'll lend you a cap and 
 a coat to cover up that black kit of yours." 
 198
 
 CAPTAIN SARTORIS RECEIVES 
 
 With these words Sartoris left the room to 
 get the articles with which he proposed to 
 disguise his accomplice. 
 
 The Captain had scarcely disappeared 
 through the doorway when Haslam made a 
 spring for the table. Seizing the brandy 
 bottle with shaking hand he poured him- 
 self half a tumbler of the raw spirits which 
 he gulped greedily. As he bent over the 
 table with one hand clutching it, and the 
 other grasping the glass, Sartoris reappeared 
 with the cap and the coat. Unperceived by 
 his guest, he stood there watching him for a 
 moment. Then he said, sardonically: 
 
 "Ah ! I forgot the bottle. Well, let's hope 
 it'll give you enough Dutch courage to 
 carry you to Norfolk. Here, put these on," 
 and he helped the clergyman on with the 
 coat and gave him the cap. Then the Cap- 
 tain pushed an electric button, and pulling 
 out a sovereign purse he said: 
 
 "Here's a sovereign for you. The fare's 
 199
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 fifteen bob, and the taxi'll be three; and 
 don't make a beast of yourself with the bal- 
 
 ance." 
 
 When Sartoris's man appeared, in answer 
 to the bell, the Captain directed him briefly. 
 
 "Emmett, take Mr. Haslam out by the 
 back way understand?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." And in an undertone "Can 
 I speak to you a moment, sir?" 
 
 "What is it?" asked Greville. 
 
 "The er young woman from Falcon- 
 hurst, sir," the man said, inquiringly. 
 
 "Myrtle! not if I know it! Say I'm out 
 or wait a bit! Perhaps she's got some 
 stable news. All right. Let her come in, 
 Emmett." And turning to the clergyman 
 "Off you go, Haslam," he cried. "I'll write 
 you." 
 
 "G good night!" Haslam answered as 
 he turned away. 
 
 "Oh good night," said Sartoris indiffer- 
 ently, "and good luck!" And when Em- 
 200
 
 CAPTAIN SARTORIS RECEIVES 
 
 mett had shown him, trembling, out of the 
 room, the Captain added 
 
 "And good riddance! I wish it were for 
 good," he said to himself grimly. And then 
 in another second, Myrtle Anson closed the 
 door behind her and stood in Sartoris's 
 chambers. 
 
 The thought that she might really be able 
 to help him get a bit of ready money made 
 Sartoris so gracious toward the sister of the 
 jockey that he took her into his arms. 
 
 "Ah, Myrtle, my dear little girl," he said. 
 
 "You are glad to see me, Greville?" she 
 asked tenderly. 
 
 "Of course," returned Sartoris, "but have 
 you anything to tell me? You know I'm 
 devilishly hard up, and a little tip " 
 
 "I have something to tell you," she began. 
 
 "About the horses?" he asked eagerly. 
 
 "About myself," she said. "My brother 
 Harry knows how it is with me. He 
 follows me everywhere." 
 201
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "If he comes here young cub," blustered 
 Sartoris. 
 
 "Don't call him that," remonstrated the 
 jockey's sister. "He knows because he loves 
 me. He's read it in my face. Oh, Gre- 
 ville, keep your promise to me and make me 
 your wife before it is too late." 
 
 "My dear Myrtle," he protested, "I'm a 
 beggar. I can't keep myself." 
 
 "Is that all? Is it only money?" 
 
 "If I were a rich man I'd marry you to- 
 
 morrow." 
 
 "Then then if I show you a way to be- 
 come rich," she said eagerly. 
 
 At his quick exclamation she went on: 
 
 "I swore that I'd never tell you another 
 stable secret but to make you rich to 
 marry me yesterday they tried the Whip." 
 
 "With what?" he asked tersely, his stable 
 sense alert. 
 
 "Silver Shoe," said the girl. 
 
 He whistled. 
 
 202
 
 CAPTAIN SARTORIS RECEIVES 
 
 "That would tell them," he said. "She's 
 a flyer." 
 
 "The Whip won pulling double by 
 twenty lengths back her," the girl advised. 
 
 "Twenty to one! It's a fortune," ex- 
 claimed Sartoris. 
 
 "But do it at once," the girl continued. 
 "I heard his lordship tell Harry he meant to 
 do the touts this time that he would tell the 
 world himself directly the horse started for 
 Newmarket." 
 
 "When's that?" 
 
 "To-morrow, Sunday, night. They're 
 going to put a horse box on to the fast train 
 that comes through Falconhurst at seven- 
 twenty." 
 
 All the greed of Sartoris's small nature 
 was aroused, and not realizing the self- 
 revelation and satire that his own words re- 
 vealed, he exclaimed: 
 
 "Myrtle, you're an Ai little girl a dear, 
 sweet, little girl." 
 
 203,
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "And you'll marry me?" she questioned 
 anxiously. 
 
 Before Sartoris was put to the necessity 
 of further invention and delay, there was a 
 knock on the door and in answer to his 
 master's call Sartoris's man came in with the 
 statement that a "Mr. Kelly" wished to see 
 Sartoris. The latter directed that he be 
 brought in. Myrtle he led into another 
 room. 
 
 As Kelly came in, scowling at Sartoris's 
 man, the Captain greeted him heartily with: 
 
 "Kelly, you're the very man I wanted. 
 I've just had a wire. Commission chap I 
 know wants to back the Whip for two thou- 
 sand. 
 
 "Then you'd better try someone else," said 
 the bookmaker shortly. "I'm fed up with 
 the Whip, I am. The Whip's just what 
 I've come to see you about. The horse is in 
 your cousin's stable and you ought to know 
 204
 
 CAPTAIN SARTORIS RECEIVES 
 
 something about him. Wot I want to 
 know is wot is ii; and 'ow good is it?" 
 
 "Why?" demanded Sartoris. 
 
 " 'Cos I lost my temper," explained 
 Kelly, "and lost my 'ead, too, with Bran- 
 caster, an' I laid him twenty to one against 
 the Whip." 
 
 "You did?" 
 
 "Three times." 
 
 "What in?" 
 
 "Thousands!" 
 
 "Good heavens, man," said Sartoris, not 
 entirely displeased to see another in trouble 
 also. "You'll be broke. They tried the 
 Whip yesterday. She romped home. The 
 best horse they've ever had in the Beverley 
 stables. Cover, man! Cover!" 
 
 "Cover be 'anged," said the disgusted 
 Kelly. "I've tried, but the whole town 
 rings with it, and the 'orse is now five to 
 
 one." 
 
 20$
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 , "Anything is better than nothing," Sar- 
 toris advised. "If you wait you'll get 
 worse. Beverley is going to tell the wide 
 world. Oh, you're in a hole put there by 
 Brancaster." 
 
 This lack of sympathy on the part of Sar- 
 toris angered Kelly. 
 
 "I'm in a 'ole, Mr. Captain Sartoris," he 
 said threateningly. "But what are you? 
 I'm going to get out of this 'ole and you are 
 going to 'elp me. I've been a good pal to 
 you now it's your turn." 
 
 "What can I do?" demanded Sartoris 
 with a shrug of his shoulders. 
 
 "I'll tell you what I can do," returned 
 Kelly, taking a piece of paper from his 
 pocket. "You see this bill for three thou- 
 sand pounds due to-morrow." 
 
 "Yes, that's right," answered Sartoris 
 easily. "But I want you to let me renew it. 
 I'll pay you the interest to-morrow and give 
 you another bill." 
 
 206
 
 CAPTAIN SARTORIS RECEIVES 
 
 "With Lady Diana's name on it again?" 
 insinuated Kelly. 
 
 "Yes. Isn't her name good enough?" de- 
 manded her cousin. 
 
 "Quite, but I'd like to see her put it there. 
 Because I don't believe she ever did. I'm 
 a-going to ask her. So you can keep that 
 new bill of yourn and I'll keep this till 
 after the Two Thousand race. And if the 
 Whip wins I shall take it to Lady Diana an' 
 ask her how her signature comes there. 
 But if the Whip loses I'll give it back to 
 you, and I'll throw you a couple o' thou- 
 sand in as a make-weight." 
 
 "How can I stop the Whip from win- 
 ning?" asked Sartoris, fearful that his forg- 
 ing of his cousin's name would soon come to 
 light 
 
 "That's your job," returned Kelly. "Lots 
 of things 'appens to 'orses especially favor- 
 ites. When KlarikorT was favorite for the 
 Leger he got burnt in 'is box." 
 207
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "Do you suggest that I shall " began 
 Sartoris. 
 
 "Use your 'ead, that's all," said Kelly. 
 "You've got plenty. But if the Whip wins 
 it will be in a halter and don't you forget 
 it" 
 
 The sound of a sudden scuffle interrupted 
 them. The noise of one man pushing aside 
 another came from outside the door. 
 
 "I tell you I will go in," said Harry An- 
 son's voice. 
 
 In another moment the Whip's jockey had 
 forced his way into the room. 
 
 208
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 COFFEE AND REPARTEE 
 
 KELLY recognized the Whip's jockey at 
 once. 
 
 "Harry Anson!" he exclaimed. "Oh! 
 Since he's dropped in so friendly like, see 
 if you can't settle something with him. I'm 
 off. Hello, Harry." 
 
 He crossed partially to the door and then 
 beckoned the despondent Captain to one 
 side. 
 
 "But when the race is over, remember, 
 you've got to settle with me," he warned 
 finally, and was gone. 
 
 Angrily Sartoris turned upon the jockey. 
 
 "What do you mean by bursting into my 
 rooms like this?" he said. 
 
 Harry's answer was direct and to the 
 point 
 
 209
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "I've come here after my sister. Where 
 is she?" he shouted, almost shaking his fist 
 in the other's face. 
 
 "What's your sister to me?" answered Sar- 
 toris in apparent disgust. 
 
 "That's what I want to know," returned 
 the jockey, "and that's what I mean to know 
 before I go out of this room." 
 
 "She's not here," said Sartoris. 
 
 "You're a liar," instantly responded the 
 jockey. "I watched her come in half an 
 hour ago, and she's not come out. Where's 
 that door go to?" 
 
 He pointed to the door behind which 
 Myrtle was hiding. 
 
 "What's that to you?" demanded Sartoris. 
 
 "I'll show you." 
 
 Anson started for the door, but the Cap- 
 tain blocked his way. 
 
 "You won't," he said. 
 
 The jockey picked up a heavy decanter 
 from the table. 
 
 210
 
 COFFEE AND REPARTEE 
 
 "Get out of my way, or I'll " he shouted, 
 as he sprang toward Sartoris. 
 
 But the door opened suddenly and Myrtle 
 rushed between them. 
 
 "Harry," she exclaimed. 
 
 Her brother let the decanter fall to the 
 floor, where it broke into pieces. 
 
 "Myrtle," Harry exclaimed in an agony. 
 "It's true, then? You were here with him 
 alone? Myrtle, tell me I'm thinking wrong 
 of you!" Her head dropped. "Look me 
 in the face tell me " 
 
 Her head was still bowed. 
 
 "I can't," she said brokenly. 
 
 A half sob came from Harry as he sank 
 into a chair. 
 
 "Myrtle my little sister," he groaned. 
 "You his his " 
 
 Down by his side the girl knelt. 
 
 "Harry, Harry, don't you a man cry 
 for me like that I'm not worth it," she 
 said. 
 
 211
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 For a moment the jockey raised his head 
 while the tears coursed down his cheeks. 
 
 "Ah, Myrtle! You was once worth all 
 the world before you met him," he sobbed. 
 
 The drawling and unfeeling voice of Sar- 
 toris broke in upon the anguish of the 
 brother and sister. 
 
 "See here, my lad," he said, elevating his 
 eyebrows, "suppose for one moment we look 
 at the matter coolly " 
 
 Abruptly Harry pushed his sister back as 
 he got to his feet. 
 
 "Coolly," he said, "when youVe ruined 
 
 my sister! Look at it coolly! Why, every 
 
 drop of blood in my body would cry shame 
 
 on me if I did. Call yourself a gentleman!" 
 
 he was standing directly before Sartoris 
 
 now "Well, I'm little better than a stable 
 
 lad, but I wouldn't treat any woman as 
 
 you've treated her a motherless girl with 
 
 no one in the world but me." 
 
 212
 
 COFFEE AND REPARTEE 
 
 "My good boy, I assure you " drawled 
 on Sartoris. 
 
 His tone again infuriated the boy. 
 
 "Curse your assurance," said Harry. 
 "There's only one thing I want to hear from 
 you. Are you going to marry my sister 
 yes or no." 
 
 "No," said Sartoris clearly. 
 
 Maddened, Harry plunged one hand into 
 his pocket, and the next moment was cover- 
 ing the Captain with a revolver. 
 
 The girl rushed toward him, but at his 
 stern command of "stand back," she 
 stopped. 
 
 But Sartoris did not lose his presence of 
 mind. 
 
 "Oh, fire away, my little fellow," he said 
 in his slow voice, "but if you shoot as straight 
 as you ride you won't make your sister a 
 widow, and I shan't be able to make her a 
 wife." 
 
 213
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 The unexpected directness of this attack 
 upon his emotions disconcerted the boy, and 
 involuntarily he lowered his weapon. 
 
 "Quite so," said Sartoris, and then to point 
 out clearly to the other his own lack of 
 nerves, he drew himself a cup of coffee from 
 the still simmering machine. 
 
 "Have a cup?" he asked, "No? Well, 
 then let's take all that as said and talk 
 sense. You want me to marry your sister. 
 I don't want the Whip to win the Two 
 Thousand. I've backed something else. 
 Lord Beverley never bets. It would do no 
 harm if you didn't ride your best." 
 
 "I ride my best or not at all," returned 
 the jockey, forgetting his own misery at the 
 moment, at thought of his glorious horse. 
 
 "Not what I mean," said Sartoris. "Ride 
 the Whip by all means, but pull her a little, 
 my good boy and perhaps I'll 
 
 "You dare say that to me, who's always 
 214
 
 COFFEE AND REPARTEE 
 
 been an honest lad," came from the jockey. 
 
 "Do you prefer that to her being an 'hon- 
 est' " began Sartoris. 
 
 Harry had now absently placed his re- 
 volver on Sartoris's writing table, and he 
 had forgotten it. 
 
 Quickly Myrtle went to Harry as a cry of 
 indignation came from both brother and 
 sister. 
 
 "That's the price," continued Lady 
 Diana's cousin. "Here's your chance. 
 What d'you say?" 
 
 Before Harry could frame a reply Myrtle 
 had answered. 
 
 "No," she said, strongly, her head now 
 erect and proud. "Do you think I'd buy 
 my honor at the price of his? No. You've 
 robbed me, but you shan't rob him. If I 
 must face shame I'll face it alone." 
 
 "No, you won't; not while I'm here, lass," 
 said the brother to his sister. "We'll go to 
 215
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 his lordship straight. He'll see justice done 
 
 when he knows what you are, Captain Sar- 
 
 
 
 toris." 
 
 "And what she is," put in Sartoris quick- 
 ly. "Don't forget that. Hold your tongue 
 and I'm quite willing to provide for her 
 and hold mine. But talk of her or her 
 lovers " 
 
 Myrtle gave a sudden exclamation at Sar- 
 toris's threat, but Harry put his arm about 
 her. 
 
 "Come away, lass," he said. "It's a fine 
 thing, sir, of a gentleman to foul a girl's 
 good name to try to break a poor lad's 
 pride but you can't. As for your money, 
 she'd never touch a farthing. Lord knows 
 what dirty way it was got. We're going 
 now, but when we meet, if her sorrow does 
 tie my tongue mind this I'm just a stable 
 lad, but I'm honest, and whenever I look you 
 straight in the face, I know you for the ly- 
 ing dog you are!" 
 
 216
 
 COFFEE AND REPARTEE 
 
 When they had gone Sartoris stretched 
 himself on a sofa, and lighting a fresh cig- 
 arette, buried his aristocratic nose deep in 
 the evening paper. It was not the first oc- 
 casion of its kind in which Greville Sar- 
 toris had played a similar part 
 
 217
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 AT MADAME TUSSAUD'S 
 
 THE WHIP'S trainer, Tom Lambert, had 
 gone to Madame Tussaud's primarily out of 
 vanity. He had had the chance to act as 
 guide to a party of the upper servants of Fal- 
 conhurst, and as he had visited the place 
 seven years before he thought that this would 
 be a fine opportunity to display his knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 The little party had entered the Chamber 
 of Horrors, and all stood transfixed, gazing 
 at the villainous caricatures of famous mur- 
 derers, when suddenly one of the girls 
 started and screamed. Lambert turned 
 round sharply. 
 
 "Confound it, Mary, what the deuce " 
 he began. 
 
 "Oh! I saw it move!" the girl cried. 
 218
 
 AT MADAME TUSSAUD'S 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "I don't know/' she answered, lamely, 
 ashamed of her spasm of fear. 
 
 "I want to see Dr. Crippen!" wailed little 
 Henry. 
 
 "Be quiet," said Mrs. Bunting, the wife 
 of the head whip. 
 
 "I I'll wait for you upstairs," murmured 
 Mary, moving off. The girl had had her 
 fill of the excitement. 
 
 "What are you frightened of? They're 
 only dummies," Lambert told her. "And 
 'ere, all of you, don't look as if you was at 
 a funeral. We've come 'ere to enjoy our- 
 selves." 
 
 "I want to see Dr. Crippen!" howled little 
 Henry again. 
 
 "Do you know what I want?" the trainer 
 asked the boy sharply. 
 
 "No!" 
 
 "I want to smack your 'ead and I'll do it 
 in a minute," Lambert admonished him. 
 219
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "I want to see Dr. Crippen first," the lad 
 persisted. 
 
 "O very well which is it? 'ere you 
 are!" said Lambert, looking at the names 
 on the high enclosure which contained the 
 most infamous of the exhibits. He caught 
 hold of the child and held him up to one of 
 the wax figures not the celebrated doctor 
 at all, as it happened. "That's Dr. Crip- 
 pen nice beauty, isn't he just your living 
 image wouldn't you like to kiss 'im?" 
 
 "No! I want another!" the boy pro- 
 tested. 
 
 Lambert looked at his young charge in 
 surprise. 
 
 "Another what?" he asked. 
 
 "I want another Dr. Crippen!" 
 
 "Another Doc . . .!" and with decision 
 
 Lambert said, "Mrs. Bunting, this child's 
 
 not well. You ought to give 'im something 
 
 every night and see the Doctor every 
 
 220
 
 AT MADAME TUSSAUD'S 
 
 mornin'. If 'e was mine I know what I'd 
 give 'im," and he flourished his walking- 
 stick in the air. "Peevish little beast, al- 
 ways 'owling and 'ollering the child's in 
 pain it's my belief if I had a child with 
 a face like that I should say it meant one 
 of two things either he'd pinched a tanner 
 from the collection plate or he'd swallowed 
 a bit of slate pencil." 
 
 "There's nothing wrong with 'im," an- 
 swered Mrs. Bunting, "but he's growing 
 every day." 
 
 "Growing a bigger nuisance every day," 
 growled Lambert, "always interfering and 
 interrupting his betters spoiling everyone's 
 pleasure." He turned again to his cata- 
 logue. "Now where are we? 'The Six 
 Stages of Wrong. A graphic record of a 
 downward career.' ' 
 
 "What's it all about, Tom?" asked Bunt- 
 ing, avoiding his wife's malevolent eye. 
 221
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "Who's the lady?" Bunting persisted, 
 pointing to an intense looking figure of a 
 female. 
 
 Lambert searched his catalogue. 
 
 "'Number 288, Miss Christabel Pank- 
 
 hurst, eldest daughter of . . . for this 
 
 she suffered one week's imprisonment and 
 afterwards' no, 'ang it, that's the wrong 
 page come to the next group. You see 
 what's the matter. It's like this, this cove 
 he's been playing bridge with a bloke that 
 knew a bit the money w^hat he lost is the 
 money what 'is master 'ad given 'im to pay 
 for the lamp oil then 'e comes and meets 
 this gentleman tells 'im the tale bites 'is 
 ear for a bit, and 'ere move up one please 
 'ere the bloke wants 'is money back why 
 shouldn't 'e? that makes the first bloke 
 nasty, goes to the other bloke's office at night 
 and 'its 'im on the 'ead well, of course, any 
 bloke as does that sort of thing gets ruined 
 
 222
 
 AT MADAME TUSSAUD'S 
 
 -it might 'appen to you or to me to-mor- 
 
 row." 
 
 "I want to see Dr. Crippen !" the little boy 
 whimpered. 
 
 "Be quiet," Lambert begged. "Will no 
 one give that child a banana? Now up 'ere 
 this is the stocks, which they used to use in 
 the Royal Exchange, which is why they still 
 call it the Stock Exchange some people 
 say they ought to use 'em still. 'Number 
 270. The 'Ampstead Tragedy,' " he read. 
 " 'Mrs. Pearcy and the Actual Perambula- 
 
 tor.' 
 
 "What was she doing with it?" asked 
 Bunting. 
 
 The trainer looked again at his cata- 
 logue. 
 
 "Left the kid at 'ome and goin' for the 
 washing, I suppose," he replied. "The 
 original iron gates from Newgate, through 
 which Jack Shepard escaped," he continued, 
 reading from the book. 
 223
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "My word! I wonder 'ow 'e did it!" 
 Bunting exclaimed involuntarily. 
 
 "I want to see Dr. Crippenl" little Henry 
 persisted. 
 
 "Will no one give that child a banana?" 
 Lambert's patience was all but exhausted. 
 
 The trainer continued to explain as best 
 he could the mysteries of that awful room, 
 and had piloted his gaping friends to one 
 side of the room, where they were busily 
 engaged in examining some ancient instru- 
 ment of torture, when two men entered. 
 One was the superintendent of the Wax 
 Works, and the other his head-workman. 
 The two approached the structure an affair 
 much like a jury-box where Dr. Crippen 
 stood stiffly among his nefarious associates. 
 
 "You see, sir," said the head-workman, 
 
 "Wainwright's firm as can be since we had 
 
 his feet seen to. It's this 'ere Dr. Crippen 
 
 as gives all the trouble. If I could only 
 
 224
 
 AT MADAME TUSSAUD'S 
 
 take 'im away now, sir, we could put him all 
 right by Monday." 
 
 "Yes, but it's Saturday," objected the su- 
 perintendent, not wishing to deprive any of 
 his Saturday night visitors of the pleas- 
 ure of gazing upon the celebrated doctor. 
 
 "So it is, sir but it's nigh on closing 
 time, an' I got the van at the door." 
 
 "Is there room?" asked his superior. 
 
 "Rather, sir I'm only taking Mr. 
 Churchill, Miss Maude Hallen, and the 
 Kaiser for a touch-up. 'Arry Lauder and 
 King Halfonso will stand hover till after 
 the 'olidays." 
 
 "Very well then," the superintendent as- 
 sented, and he took the figure of Dr. Crip- 
 pen by the arm and rocked it slightly. 
 "Yes it is hardly safe." 
 
 The head-workman beckoned to his as- 
 sistants who appeared in the doorway. 
 
 "Come along, boys!" and he opened the 
 225
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 door of the platform. "Dr. Crippen " he 
 directed "and into the van sharp 1 Beg 
 pardon, sir," he continued, turning to his 
 chief, "but I'll be bringing back President 
 Roosevelt on Monday. Shall I put him up 
 alongside the lions?" 
 
 "He might be more appropriate inside 
 'em," the superintendent answered, for he 
 was of a facetious turn a saving grace in a 
 wax works employe. 
 
 Unnoticed by the Falconhurst sightseers, 
 Dr. Crippen was borne ignominously away, 
 while the fascinated visitors worked their 
 way around the room, until they reached the 
 jury-box again. 
 
 " 'Number 323. William Palmer of 
 'Rugely,' " Lambert read, stopping before 
 one of the figures. " 'A cold-blooded as- 
 sassin. Under the guise of love and friend- 
 ship he sacrificed his victims to satisfy his 
 lust for gold; and callous to the voice of 
 nature he smiled upon his crimes. He was 
 226
 
 AT MADAME TUSSAUD'S 
 
 an owner of race-horses' I don't believe a 
 word of it." And then, moving down the 
 line of staring monstrosities, he began 
 
 "This chap in the bath but Mrs. Bunt- 
 ing is present " and the trainer stopped 
 abruptly, his native modesty forbidding him 
 to dilate upon such a subject. He passed 
 to another exhibit. 
 
 " 'Marwood, the executioner, taken from 
 life!'" he read. 
 
 "Lor! Did they 'ang the 'angman?" 
 asked Bunting. 
 
 "I want to see Dr. Crippen!" Little 
 Henry felt that his wishes deserved some no- 
 tice. 
 
 "Will nobody give that child a real 
 good 'iding! Just when I'm doing my best 
 to liven you up, improve your minds, and 
 tell you all about it, interrupts me every 
 minute!" Lambert protested. He closed 
 his catalogue with a snap. 
 
 "If you want to know any more about it 
 227
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 you can read your catalogue for yourselves," 
 he finished, mopping his forehead. 
 
 "The dear child's tired, that 'e is. Ain't 
 you 'Enery Claude?" said the boy's mother, 
 as she took his hand, and frowned resent- 
 fully at their discouraged guide. 
 
 "Oh! take 'im on upstairs," said Bunting, 
 as the boy began to cry. 
 
 "Come along, 'Enery. You shall have a 
 nice stale bun in the refreshment room," and 
 with these soothing words, Mrs. Bunting 
 led the disappointed youngster away to the 
 upper and less terrible regions, followed by 
 the others. Lambert alone remained be- 
 hind, for as he waited to act as a sort of rear 
 guard to his retiring forces, he caught sight 
 of Myrtle Anson, who had entered unseen 
 by the others and was now standing in the 
 shadow of an alcove. She motioned silently 
 to the trainer. 
 
 "Why, Myrtle, my lass," he exclaimed 
 kindly. 
 
 228
 
 AT MADAME TUSSAUD'S 
 
 The girl plunged at once into her errand 
 with him. 
 
 "I want to tell you something you alone 
 and I want you to promise me that what- 
 ever I tell you you won't tell anyone even 
 that I told you." 
 
 "Of course I will, my lass," he said. 
 "What's wrong." 
 
 "It's about the Whip. Someone wants to 
 stop her winning," she said, realizing that 
 her task would be very difficult if she were 
 going to succeed in telling just what she 
 wanted to without telling all. 
 
 "Lots do, but they won't," answered the 
 confident trainer, not taking her at all seri- 
 ously. "She'll just romp in." 
 
 "But this is one who means to stop her 
 by fair means or foul," she went on. "He 
 tried to get Harry to pull her." 
 
 "And Harry knocked him down, I hope," 
 snorted the trainer. 
 
 "He couldn't do that but but he re- 
 229
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 fused you know he would and he 
 wasn't going to speak for for my sake 
 but I couldn't rest." The girl was becom- 
 ing confused in her effort to tell but a 
 part of the truth, the part that would serve 
 merely as a warning. "I was afraid that 
 he the person might try and injure the 
 Whip some way to prevent her run- 
 ning" 
 
 "Who is he?" sternly asked the aroused 
 horseman. 
 
 "I don't want to tell you that," she said. 
 "Don't ask me. I only came to warn you 
 to watch the horse so that they mayn't have 
 a chance to injure her." 
 
 "How can I, when I don't know where 
 the danger's coming from?" continued 
 Lambert, the drops appearing on his fore- 
 head, as he tried to penetrate behind her 
 words. "Look here, Myrtle, my lass, 
 you've told me so much, you've got to tell 
 me the rest. Come, now, I've got to know 
 230
 
 AT MADAME TUSSAUD'S 
 
 the man's name who wants to nobble the 
 Whip." 
 
 "No, no!" 
 
 "But I say, yes! It's your duty to them 
 as has reared you and looked to you all your 
 life. Out with it what's his name?" 
 
 Under his compelling earnestness the 
 girl's head drooped. Then she raised it 
 bravely and, looking him square in the eye, 
 said: 
 
 "It's Captain Sartoris." 
 
 "His lordship's cousin you're dream- 
 ing," he said in amazement. 
 
 "I'm not," she asserted. "I wish I were. 
 I swear it." 
 
 Into the agonized senses of the trainer 
 there came to him from the hall outside a 
 voice he knew and loved and feared well, 
 too. 
 
 Mrs. Beamish was saying: 
 
 "Oh, my good woman, don't come and 
 bother me." 
 
 231
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 Lambert fairly leaped into the air. 
 
 "That's her voice, a thousand to nothing," 
 he lamented. 
 
 "Mrs. Beamish!" the girl exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes," went on the perturbed trainer, 
 "and if she catches you and me together 
 again, I'm done for Run away, my gal 
 for goodness' sake, go away right out of 
 the building write to me I mean I'll 
 write to you we'll keep writing to one an- 
 other." 
 
 He was now hopping up and down in his 
 agitation. 
 
 "Is this the Chamber of Horrors?" he 
 heard the voice he feared so much asking 
 outside. 
 
 "I should say it was," groaned Tom. 
 
 Myrtle was amused for the moment. 
 
 "What are you going to do?" she asked. 
 
 "Goodness knows," he said, looking about 
 the room for another means of exit. But 
 he could find none. Finally he scanned 
 232
 
 AT MADAME TUSSAUD'S 
 
 closely each little den and even each figure 
 in turn. His eyes fell upon the jury-box 
 and the vacant place in the group of mur- 
 derers where Dr. Crippen had stood. 
 
 "Do?" he repeated, as a sudden inspira- 
 tion came to him. "I'm going to be Dr. 
 Crippen." 
 
 In a moment he had darted up the little 
 flight of steps that led into the jury-box, had 
 stepped over the railing, and was standing 
 posing in the place lately occupied by the 
 wax figure of Dr. Crippen. A black silk 
 handkerchief he had taken from another 
 figure he tied about his throat, so that it 
 somewhat resembled the celebrated doctor's 
 beard. 
 
 He had barely assumed his motionless 
 pose, when Mrs. Beamish entered, followed 
 at a distance by a young woman in the 
 shabby weeds of a poor widow. 
 
 Myrtle turned and came face to face with 
 Mrs. Beamish. The latter had known that 
 233
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 Tom Lambert was to guide the Falconhurst 
 servants through the place and had drawn 
 her own conclusions. 
 
 "Good evening, ma'am," said Myrtle 
 quite respectfully. 
 
 "More than can be said of the evening's 
 work," commented the outraged Mrs. 
 Beamish, as she glanced about. "Where's 
 your accomplice?" 
 
 "My what, ma'am?" the girl asked. 
 
 "The man you've been keeping an assig- 
 nation with," snapped Lady Diana's com- 
 panion. 
 
 "I have kept no assignation with any 
 man," the girl said, her tones still respectful 
 toward this woman whose jealousy she knew 
 and sympathized with. 
 
 "You may tell that to the marines, my 
 girl," went on the jealous woman. "I know 
 better, and you ought to. A man old 
 enough to be your father, and ugly enough 
 to frighten the crows." 
 234
 
 AT MADAME TUSSAUD'S 
 
 "I don't " began Myrtle. 
 
 "You may go now," said Mrs. Beamish, 
 and Myrtle, who had not relished this scene 
 with the jealous woman, went at once. 
 
 As Mrs. Beamish turned from the girl 
 she brushed against the woman who had 
 been following her. 
 
 "What do you want, pray?" asked Lam- 
 bert's elderly flame. 
 
 "Nothing, madam," returned the woman, 
 "I thought you seemed to want somebody." 
 
 "So I do and only let me catch him," 
 snapped Mrs. Beamish. 
 
 "If you could describe him, my lady," said 
 the other. 
 
 "I can't. Language fails dictionary 
 language." 
 
 "What's he like?" 
 
 Mrs. Beamish had been looking about her 
 
 busily, seeking Lambert. Her eyes for the 
 
 past few moments had been traveling down 
 
 the line of the murderers in the jury-box. 
 
 235
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 Suddenly they rested upon the posing Lam- 
 bert and recognized him. 
 
 "So that's it, is it?" she remarked in her 
 hardest and dryest voice. "The wretch." 
 
 Lambert, however, seeing her eyes leave 
 him, was sure that she had not recognized 
 him. 
 
 To the other woman Mrs. Beamish turned 
 and then pointing to the murderers she asked 
 for Lambert's benefit: 
 
 "What are those?" 
 
 "Those are murderers, madam," said the 
 woman. 
 
 "They look it," returned Mrs. Beamish, 
 her voice cutting Lambert to the quick, "ev- 
 ery man Jack of them especially that one 
 in the corner with the hideous red face." 
 She glanced into the catalogue she carried. 
 "No. 9 Dr. Crippen. Just what I should 
 have guessed. You can see the man is a 
 monster of wickedness." 
 236
 
 AT MADAME TUSSAUD'S 
 
 "So you can, my lady," agreed the other. 
 
 Lambert shook in his boots, but not with 
 amusement. 
 
 "Crime written large across his ugly face 
 in every line of it," resumed Mrs. Beam- 
 ish, who was having her revenge. "And 
 there are a good many of them a hardened 
 old villain. I could believe anything of a 
 man with that face." 
 
 "So could I, my lady," agreed her com- 
 panion readily. 
 
 "Yes and he's extraordinarily like a man 
 I've known and suspected for a long time." 
 
 "Lor', lady, that ain't no compliment to 
 the gentleman." 
 
 "He isn't a gentleman," said Lambert's 
 punisher. "He's quite a common person * 
 and behaves himself as such." 
 
 "You don't say so, lady!" 
 
 "Don't I, though! And that's nothing to 
 what I could say. But there, I can't look 
 237
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 at the creature. It makes me quite ill, and 
 I'm tired. I shall sit down for a bit until 
 they turn the people out." 
 
 She seated herself directly below the jury- 
 box and beneath Lambert. Involuntarily 
 the trainer, who had been finding it difficult 
 to hold his pose and keep his face as ex- 
 pressionless as wax, groaned. 
 
 Instantly the woman who had been talk- 
 ing with Mrs. Beamish exclaimed: 
 
 "Lor, what was that?" 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Didn't you hear it? Sounded like a 
 groan." 
 
 Mrs. Beamish had known perfectly what 
 the sound was, but she had a very definite 
 plan in her mind regarding Lambert, and 
 she pretended that she had not heard. 
 
 "Well, why not?" she responded, "it's the 
 Chamber of Horrors. I dare say it's done 
 by machinery somebody suffering tor- 
 tures or on the rack or something." 
 238
 
 AT MADAME TUSSAUD'S 
 
 As Mrs. Beamish laid her gold mesh bag 
 down on the bench beside her, just under a 
 sign "Beware of pickpockets," the other 
 woman sank down on the bench with a 
 smothered "Oh!" 
 
 "What's the matter?" asked Mrs. Beam- 
 ish anxiously. 
 
 "It's my hunger, my lady," she said. 
 "I'm out of work. I haven't had a morsel 
 of food all day. I came in here thinking 
 that some kind of person might assist me, 
 but" 
 
 Mrs. Beamish passed to the other a very 
 handsome bottle of smelling salts, which the 
 woman kept. 
 
 "Feel any better?" asked Mrs. Bea- 
 mish. 
 
 "A little," confessed the other, and she 
 slipped Mrs. Beamish's gold bag into her 
 pocket. 
 
 "Oh, my lady, how kind you are," she 
 added, as into her specially arranged pocket 
 239
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 went all of the other loose valuables of the 
 jealous Mrs. Beamish. 
 
 "If you'd let me offer you something," 
 and Mrs. Beamish's hand made a movement 
 vaguely toward the place where her purse 
 had been. 
 
 But the other knew the impulse and fore- 
 stalled it. 
 
 "No, no, my lady^" she said; "I know you 
 mean kindly, but don't spoil it. Poor I may 
 be, and unhappy I am but I has my pride." 
 
 She was half way to the door now. 
 
 "Thank heaven I has my pride, my lady," 
 she said once again and was gone. 
 
 "Poor, dear soul," commented Mrs. 
 Beamish aloud to the unbounded delight of 
 poor Lambert, who did not dare move, "and 
 so dignified in her sorrow. What hard lives 
 some people have." 
 
 There was a suspicion of tears in her eyes, 
 and she put her hand in her pocket to find 
 her handkerchief. 
 
 240
 
 AT MADAME TUSSAUD'S 
 
 "Why, wherever's my handkerchief!" she 
 exclaimed. Then as gradually the truth 
 dawned "And and my purse, and 
 where's my gold bag? That woman!" 
 
 In a moment more she was running from 
 the Chamber of Horrors, crying: 
 
 "Here! Stop thief I Stop thief 1" 
 
 241
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 LOCKED IN 
 
 AT the hen-like retreat of the Hon. Mrs. 
 Beamish, Tom Lambert laughed long and 
 loud, repeating some of her phrases of pity 
 for the old woman who had robbed her. 
 
 Finally, his mirth over, he put one leg 
 partially across the jury-box rail, intending 
 to leave the place, seek out Mrs. Beamish 
 and have a good laugh at her expense. But 
 the voice of Sartoris and Mrs. D'Aquila 
 outside deterred him, and again froze his 
 face to a likeness of his conception of wax. 
 
 Lambert was quite immovable when Sar- 
 toris and the woman who maintained that 
 she was the wife of Brancaster came into the 
 Chamber of Horrors. 
 
 "We shall be all right here," she said. 
 242
 
 LOCKED IN 
 
 "I suppose there's no chance of our getting 
 shut in? There's a notice here about the 
 hydraulic door closing automatically after 
 the bell rings." 
 
 Sartoris laughed. 
 
 "Only to frighten the bumpkins," he re- 
 sponded, "and add to the horrors. If it did 
 close they'd hear us shout, I expect." 
 
 The chance of it had impressed the 
 woman. 
 
 /They wouldn't," she said, "I noticed 
 that. There's a muffled door beyond. And 
 on the last stroke of the clock every attend- 
 ant will be rushing out for a drink. Satur- 
 day night, you know. I don't want to be 
 locked in here until Monday." 
 
 "In the dark, too!" commented the other. 
 "If it comes off I'll sit and hold your hand." 
 
 Directly beneath Lambert and in the same 
 spot formerly occupied by Mrs. Beamish, 
 Mrs. D'Aquila seated herself and motioned 
 the Captain to her side. 
 243
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "Well, sit and talk quickly," she said. 
 "I'm in a hurry. I've brought you all I 
 could spare." She gave to him a number 
 of bank notes from her purse. "Notes I 
 thought you'd prefer them three hundred 
 toward that interest." 
 
 "Shan't ever be grateful enough," he said. 
 
 "Quite sure you won't," she responded. 
 
 "I'll give you something in return," he 
 went on, gloomily. 
 
 "How sweet of you ; what is it?" 
 
 "Bad news!" 
 
 "Good gracious!" 
 
 "That horse of Beverley's the Whip > 
 has been tried a flyer the Two Thou- 
 sand's a certainty." 
 
 There was one moment while Sartoris was 
 giving this piece of stable information when 
 Lambert, the Whip's trainer, had much dif- 
 ficulty in remembering that he was an image 
 of wax. He moved suddenly and had great 
 trouble in not leaving his perch and giv- 
 244
 
 LOCKED IN 
 
 ing Sartoris the threshing he knew he de- 
 served. But he believed that, since they 
 were now on the subject of his beloved horse, 
 patience would be vastly rewarded. 
 
 Mrs. D'Aquila had not seemed startled at 
 what Sartoris had said. 
 
 "That doesn't sound bad," she said. "If 
 one had a bit on, at say, twenty 
 
 "No chance," the Captain interrupted. 
 "Di must have told Brancaster, for he 
 caught Kelly, the big book-maker, half 
 drunk and off his guard and rushed him 
 with three big bets. If the Whip wins, he'll 
 win a fortune." 
 
 "Brancaster," she exclaimed in a voice of 
 gloom, now thoroughly aroused. 
 
 "Yes, he'll have lots of money to fight 
 you with. If the horse gets beat he'll be 
 nearly broke." 
 
 For a moment Mrs. D'Aquila was in deep 
 thought. 
 
 "Horses do get beat sometimes," she said. 
 245
 
 THE WHIR 
 
 "Yes," said Sartoris equally gloomy. 
 "That's what Kel what a chap I know said. 
 When Klarikoff was favorite for the Leger 
 he got burnt in his box." 
 
 "In his stable?" she asked. 
 
 "No, horse-box on the railway," he re- 
 turned. 
 
 "I wonder how it was done," she said in 
 a tone that might have stood for the sug- 
 gestion of an evil deed, so sinister it was. 
 
 Sartoris shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "Accident," he said in his thin voice. 
 "I'd give something for another." 
 
 "You would?" she asked in a peculiar 
 tone. 
 
 "Yes," he said frankly. "I've had a 
 plunge on something else. I want to see 
 the Whip beaten. I must see her beaten. 
 That's why I told you. You've got quick 
 wits" 
 
 "The jockey," she suggested. 
 
 "Honest idiot." 
 
 246
 
 LOCKED IN 
 
 "The stable?" 
 
 "Guarded like the Sultan's harem! Bev- 
 erley's pet fad." 
 
 "Yes, the train's the place," she said mu- 
 singly? getting to her feet. 
 
 Puzzled, Sartoris also arose. 
 
 "How? His lad and probably his clown 
 of a trainer, Lambert, will travel with him 
 in the box," he said. 
 
 "When does he travel?" she asked. 
 
 "To-morrow. They'll stop the evening 
 train to Grantham by signal at Falconhurst, 
 tack the box on behind, and slip it at Men- 
 field, where the down express will pick it 
 up" 
 
 "Slip it " she said, while her thoughts 
 were busy on some sudden problem. 
 
 "Yes," he explained. "It's what they al- 
 ways do, don't you know, pull a string thing 
 that undoes the coupling and the horse- 
 box slows down and stops at the Junction 
 while the train runs through " 
 247
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "Has has it ever gone wrong?" she asked 
 in a way to arouse his suspicions. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "The slip business. What would happen 
 if the horse-box were slipped too soon say 
 Falconhurst tunnel and left standing on 
 the line?" 
 
 "The next train would see the red tail- 
 light and stop," he said. 
 
 There was a world of potential tragedy 
 in the woman's voice, as with the smile of a 
 destiny of evil she went on : 
 
 "But in the dark it will be dark if 
 someone had dropped off the tail-light be- 
 fore the next train could stop?" 
 
 "The box would be smashed," he said in 
 a dazed fashion. 
 
 "And the horse?" She paused for a full 
 moment. Then she went on : 
 
 "The train does not run fast through the 
 tunnel. IVe been there dozens of times. 
 248
 
 LOCKED IN 
 
 I've seen guards do the thing it's easy 
 enough to swing from carriage to carriage 
 along the foot plate to drop off the red 
 tail-light to pull the slip and let the next 
 train" 
 
 With her hands brought violently to- 
 gether she let inference finish her sentence 
 for her. 
 
 "Whom could one trust?" demanded Sar- 
 toris suddenly. 
 
 "When I've work to do," she said, "I 
 only trust myself." 
 
 "But, you couldn't " he began. 
 
 "No, but you could easily if you were 
 on the train," she said, "if you joined it 
 further north and none knew it you could 
 do it if you want it done so badly and you 
 have the pluck " 
 
 She was interrupted by the ringing of the 
 bell which gave notice that the hydraulic 
 door would close shortly. 
 249
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "Ah, the door!" she exclaimed. 
 
 Then in a low, but strong tone she went 
 on: 
 
 "What's going to happen? Is the Whip 
 going to win or will there be an acci- 
 dent?" 
 
 They left quickly then, as they did not 
 wish to run any risk of being locked in when 
 there was work to do, as she had phrased it. 
 
 For a full half minute Lambert stared 
 after them, then he leaned over the jury-box 
 and shook his fist in the direction of the re- 
 treating pair. 
 
 "No there won't, my pretty lady," he said, 
 aloud, the solitude and the company of the 
 waxen images inclining him to hear the 
 sound of his own voice. "There'll be no 
 accident. Why? Because that clown of a 
 trainer Lambert will stop it because he'll 
 send his horse safe to the post first and he'll 
 talk to you after tell you what he heard 
 tell you to your face what you are " 
 250
 
 LOCKED IN 
 
 The second bell rang and immediately 
 without waiting to allow any who might be 
 in the Chamber of Horrors to get out, the 
 unseen attendant on another floor pulled a 
 lever and the door closed with a hard bang. 
 Lambert was locked within the Chamber of 
 Horrors, with no way of escape until Mon- 
 day morning. 
 
 "Here, stop that!" he roared, as he got 
 down from the jury-box and tried to open 
 the door, "I tell you there's someone inside 
 open the door at once don't play the con- 
 founded fool I tell you it's most important 
 let me out let me out " 
 
 But he could not move the door. Then 
 he put his hands to his mouth and shouted: 
 
 "Help, help, help!" 
 
 All of the lights except a few near the 
 ceiling were switched out, adding to the ter- 
 ror of the trainer's situation. 
 
 "Don't do that don't do that!" he fairly 
 howled. "Stop it don't leave me here in 
 251
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 the dark I shall go mad alone here in 
 the dark with these alone for a day and a 
 night and another night till Monday 
 while" 
 
 Into his frenzied mind there came 
 thoughts of the Whip. At the picture of his 
 beloved and first member of the Beverley 
 string lying upon some railroad track dying, 
 his terror increased as he cried: 
 
 "They are smashing my horse they'll 
 smash the Whip while I'm locked up here 
 they shan't let me out I say let me 
 out" 
 
 The manifold tortures of the situation 
 were too much for the trainer and he sank 
 down, sobbing and screaming while even the 
 lights in the ceiling faded away. 
 
 252
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 MRS. BEAMISH RELENTS 
 
 MRS. BEAMISH was decidedly uneasy as 
 she sat in the morning room at Falconhurst, 
 on the evening of the day following that on 
 which Tom Lambert had been locked into 
 the Chamber of Horrors. Lord Beverley 
 had been furious when Lambert failed to 
 appear, and Lady Di was even then at the 
 station to see the Whip put safely into the 
 horse-box for the trip to Newmarket. 
 
 The Marquis paced up and down the 
 room fretting and fuming. 
 
 "You may say what you like, Betty," he 
 said to Mrs. Beamish, "I say that it's noth- 
 ing short of disgraceful. Here's Lambert 
 knows perfectly well that the Whip starts 
 for Newmarket to-night by the seven-thirty 
 and that he's got to travel with her and 
 253
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 not only is there not a sign of the man, but 
 not a word from him!" 
 
 "Perhaps he thought it didn't matter," 
 Mrs. Beamish volunteered. 
 
 "Didn't matter! Betty! You're not gen- 
 erally a fool. I beg you won't talk like one. 
 Didn't matter! With a mare that no one 
 can manage but him and Di and her 
 jockey!" The Marquis looked at his com- 
 panion with amazement. 
 
 "I suppose he thought the jockey could 
 go with her!" 
 
 "Of course he can and of course he 
 will," he said. "I've arranged for that 
 but if Harry Anson goes to Newmarket to- 
 night Tom Lambert'll go for good to- 
 morrow morning." 
 
 "Perhaps he may be coming by the train 
 that gets in from town at seven-twenty," she 
 suggested. 
 
 "And perhaps he mayn't Betty! You'll 
 drive me mad with your perhapses and sup- 
 254
 
 MRS. BEAMISH RELENTS 
 
 poses. The seven-twenty is always late I 
 Lambert ought to have been here this morn- 
 ing. Why isn't he? Answer me that! 
 Why isn't he?" he demanded, striking the 
 table in his excitement. 
 
 "How should I know! Unless he may 
 have been been detained," she said 
 guiltily. 
 
 "Detained! Where? Couldn't he wire? 
 Isn't there the telephone? The man's not 
 a fool!" 
 
 "I'm not so sure of that!" Mrs Beamish 
 commented. 
 
 "But I am. I wish I were as sure that 
 he isn't the other extreme a rogue." 
 Lord Beverley was in an exceedingly pessi- 
 mistic frame of mind. 
 
 "Tom Lambert a rogue! No! what- 
 ever he is, but he's not that!" Mrs. Beam- 
 ish exclaimed. She was indignant in spite 
 of herself. 
 
 "You seem to be very sure of what he is 
 255
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 and what he isn't, Betty. But let me tell 
 you, that for a long time past stable secrets 
 have been leaking out in a most inexplica- 
 ble way. Now, Lambert is just the man 
 who could have given them away, and I'm 
 beginning to believe he's just the man who 
 did." There was almost conviction in the 
 Marquis's words. 
 
 Mrs. Beamish sprang to her feet hotly. 
 
 "And I'll swear I mean I'll pledge my 
 word, he didn't. What! Tom Lambert 
 do a dirty trick! Tom Lambert betray 
 anybody's trust he'd sooner die; he's got 
 his little faults, but an honester man doesn't 
 breathe. Why I remember years ago, 
 when he was quite a lad " and she stopped 
 suddenly. 
 
 "I daresay," replied Beverley with irony. 
 "I don't want to hear what happened years 
 ago I'm thinking of to-night! I'm think- 
 ing of the fact that Di's gone to see the 
 Whip off by the seven-thirty that it only 
 256
 
 MRS. BEAMISH RELENTS 
 
 wants ten minutes and that Lambert's not 
 here! What have you got to say to that?" 
 
 "No doubt there's a reason there's some 
 explanation." 
 
 "Then give it to me!" he demanded 
 grimly. 
 
 "I can't," she told him, while to herself 
 she said, with woman's perversity, "I 
 won't!" 
 
 "Why not, if you hold the key!" 
 
 "Hold the key!" she protested. 
 
 "Of his conduct," said her relative snap- 
 pishly. "Hold a brief for him if you like 
 it better." 
 
 "He he may have met with an acci- 
 dent," she said lamely. 
 
 "Let's hope so. Bless me, I don't mean 
 that! But I do mean it'll have to be a bad 
 one to make me condone his absence. I 
 don't want any more words, Betty. Tom 
 Lambert's been in my stables now for nearly 
 thirty years, but so surely as he doesn't 
 257
 
 travel with the Whip to-night so surely 
 I'll sack him to-morrow." And Lord Bev- 
 erly stalked out of the room. 
 
 "Sack him! Sack Tom Lambert!" Mrs. 
 Beamish exclaimed to herself involuntarily. 
 "Oh, no! I didn't bargain for that!" She 
 hurried to the door. "Lord Beverley!" she 
 called, and then she stopped. 
 
 "No! I daren't tell him while he's like 
 that," she told herself. "Supposing I 
 were to try to get Lambert let out! 
 What's the good? It's too late now the 
 mischief's done and to-morrow morning 
 won't make it any worse. No ! there he is 
 and there he'll stay, till the doors open on 
 Monday morning. But I can't let him lose 
 his place and if I told Beverley now a 
 bull of Bashan 'Id be a babe-in-arms to 
 him." And then, with a sudden inspiration 
 "I know! I'll write to him a letter he 
 can get to-morrow morning and I'll keep 
 out of his way all day." She sat down at 
 258
 
 MRS. BEAMISH RELENTS 
 
 the writing table. "That's it!" She took 
 up a pen and began to write 
 
 "Dear Lord Beverley : Poor as my opin- 
 ion of Tom Lambert is " (Looking up at 
 clock) "Five and twenty past seven! Ten 
 o'clock last night!" (counting on her fin- 
 gers) "ten to ten's twelve and ten to half 
 past seven's another nine twenty-one 
 hours and a half alone in the Chamber of 
 Horrors!" And then, hardening her heart 
 she added, "Well, serves him right!" 
 
 "Poor as my opinion of Tom Lambert is, 
 I cannot allow you to think " she wrote, 
 and then she stopped. "Poor wretch! how 
 hungry he must be! and thirsty And a 
 good lesson for him ! Let him dream of his 
 Myrtle!" 
 
 She proceeded with her letter 
 
 "To think that his absence is due to de- 
 sign on his part I know where he is " 
 She stopped again and reaching for the tele- 
 259
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 phone book, opened it, and searched the 
 pages for a moment. 
 
 "Tussaud Madam and Sons Limited 
 56 Paddington," she said. "That's it!" 
 And then she slammed the book shut. "No, 
 I won't!" she exclaimed and wrote again 
 
 "The fact is that he went to Madam Tus- 
 saua" s last night (more fool he!) and (Poor 
 Tom! wonder if he's got any cigars with 
 him!" she finished, questioning herself, and 
 forgetting the letter entirely.) 
 
 Then, with a sudden inspiration, she 
 seized the telephone instrument, and taking 
 up the receiver, called : 
 
 "Hullo! are you there? Yes Trunk 
 call, please. Get me 56 Paddington 5 6 
 yes, that's right! Sunday evening, you can 
 put me through quickly? You can. 
 Thanks." 
 
 Mrs. Beamish resumed her writing. 
 "After all," she said to herself, "I don't see 
 260
 
 MRS. BEAMISH RELENTS 
 
 why I need give myself away so much," and 
 she ran her pen through the lines that she 
 had written, and began afresh. 
 
 "I have reason to believe that he went 
 with some of the others to Madame Tus- 
 saud's last night and I think it quite pos- 
 sible that he may have stayed too late and 
 got locked in. And after twenty-four soli- 
 tary hours confinement in the Chamber of 
 Horrors, I do think he's been punished 
 sufficiently for his carelessness and other 
 things!" she added, for her benefit only. 
 
 The telephone bell rang insistently, and 
 she answered at once. 
 
 "Hullo 1 What! Through already! 
 Thanks! Hullo! Who's that? Are you 
 Madame Tussaud's? Who's speaking? 
 The night watchman? Oh! Have you got 
 the keys You have . . . I er I think 
 that by some accident, a gentleman got 
 locked in last night when the place was 
 261
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 closed: into the Chamber of Horrors. 
 Yes!" She listened a moment to some 
 message. 
 
 "Yes, do, please," she continued, after a 
 pause, "and when you've got him ask him 
 to speak to Mrs. Beamish on the 'phone. 
 B E A M I S H! Thank youl 
 I'll hold the line No. Don't ring us off 
 another three minutes!" 
 
 "Yes (Why do they man or woman 
 telephone exchanges with congenital 
 idiots!)" 
 
 She turned again to her letter. 
 
 "Think he's been punished sufficiently, 
 and though of course he ought not to have 
 got locked in or to have been there at all 
 I do hope you'll forgive him for my sake. 
 Whatever am I writing! for my sake in- 
 deed! For Myrtle Anson's! and it'd be no 
 more than he deserves if I were to tell Bev- 
 erley all about it but I won't I'll hold it 
 over him!" 
 
 262
 
 MRS. BEAMISH RELENTS 
 
 She was still holding the receiver to her 
 ear, and in reply to the operator's customary 
 question she said snappishly: 
 
 "Finished? Good heavens, no! I told 
 you another three minutes they're fetching 
 somebody. No! I haven't finished what? 
 You cut me off if you dare! Sorry to keep 
 you from your novel, but you'll have to 
 finish the chapter when I'm done and 
 eh? On again?" and then she recognized 
 Lambert's voice. 
 
 "Ah, Lambert," she exclaimed, over the 
 wire, "they've got you out, eh? Tired of 
 being a wax work?" 
 
 But the trainer paid no attention to the 
 jibing quality of her tones and plunged in- 
 to a recital of what he had heard while he 
 posed as Dr. Crippen. 
 
 "It's not true," she exclaimed over the 
 wire. "You're inventing it to get at me! 
 Tom Lambert, will you swear it is true?" 
 
 Lord Beverley entered during her con- 
 263
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 eluding words, and she explained rapidly to 
 him. 
 
 "What cock and bull story's this?" he de- 
 manded. 
 
 But after another short talk with Lam- 
 bert she continued to Beverley: 
 
 "It's true! He says he overheard a plot 
 to kill the Whip. They mean to uncouple 
 the horse-box at Menfield Junction just the 
 other side of the tunnel and leave it where 
 the down express'll run into it and smash the 
 whole thing up." 
 
 Lord Beverley now talked with Lambert 
 in his turn. 
 
 "If this story of yours is true, whose plot 
 is it?" he asked. "What! Captain Sartoris! 
 Greville! Are you mad or drunk, sir, to 
 make such an accusation! You'll take your 
 oath upon it? Going by the same train as 
 the Whip prevent the horse's starting at 
 any cost. Yes, I'll do that." 
 
 He snapped up the receiver, when they 
 264
 
 MRS. BEAMISH RELENTS 
 
 heard the whistle of the train as it left Fal- 
 conhurst station. 
 
 "You can't There goes the train," 
 lamented Mrs. Beamish. 
 
 "Too late!" exclaimed Beverley. "I 
 wouldn't have that horse hurt for three times 
 what she stands to win. Good heavens, 
 Betty. Harry Anson and the others we 
 must save them." 
 
 But Mrs. Beamish was already on her 
 agitated but rapid way to the door. 
 
 "And we will," she cried. "It is my do- 
 ing! My stupid jealousy has led to it all. 
 It's my duty to put things straight, and I'm 
 going to do it!" 
 
 "How?" demanded the Marquis. 
 
 "Give me the big motor and a couple of 
 men," she said, "and I'll race the train and 
 get to the tunnel first." 
 
 265
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE WRECK 
 
 THE station employes at Falconhurst station 
 had rather hurriedly prepared the horse- 
 box for the reception of Lord Beverley's 
 pride, for they were anxious to see the car 
 attached to the train which, having arrived 
 ahead of its time, was being held, for they 
 knew that once through the tunnel the down 
 express would be only three minutes behind 
 them. They had set the red tail-light and 
 arranged the slip cord which would release 
 the coupler when it was pulled, and now 
 they were waiting for the Whip to be led 
 aboard. 
 
 Lady Diana and Harry Anson were stand- 
 ing at the intelligent animal's head while the 
 girl said her good-bys to the racer she 
 266
 
 THE WRECK 
 
 loved and upon whose successful perform- 
 ance at Newmarket depended so much. 
 
 "Good-by," she whispered to the horse 
 softly, "you're to run your first great race. 
 Win it. Win it! For you're carrying my 
 heart!" 
 
 It seemed almost as though the Whip un- 
 derstood, for with her muzzle she caressed 
 the hand of the girl. 
 
 Then Lady Diana turned to the jockey. 
 
 "Good-by, Harry," she said; "go and 
 win for the honor of the stable for the 
 honor of our colors and for me God 
 bless you both, and good luck!" 
 
 And then she stood aside. Rapidly 
 Harry and the porters led the Whip into the 
 car which had already been bedded down. 
 Then while Harry waved his hand and 
 Lady Diana and the others on the plat- 
 form responded, the train, which had 
 backed down, bore off the car and its own 
 load of passengers. 
 
 267
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 Harry, who knew that the succeeding days 
 would be of great activity, went to bed in 
 his bunk in the compartment in one end of 
 the little odd English horse-box, while the 
 train attained a high rate of speed and en- 
 tered Falconhurst tunnel. 
 
 He promised himself that he would keep 
 one eye on the horse, even while the train 
 was in motion and but little danger was to 
 be apprehended from those to whose inter- 
 est it might be to try and harm the Whip. 
 But he soon dozed. 
 
 They were in the tunnel when Captain 
 Sartoris opened a door of a carriage which 
 he had quite to himself. He had joined 
 the train further to the north of Falconhurst 
 and none of the Falconhurst people had 
 known that he was aboard. 
 
 Now in the blackness of the tunnel he 
 crept along the footplate which ran just 
 below the side doors and which in the past 
 had given opportunity for many a crime. 
 268
 
 THE WRECK 
 
 While the passengers were absolutely un- 
 conscious of his lurching progress past them 
 he crept along the train, clinging and sway- 
 ing. In this fashion he passed by the door 
 of a compartment in which the morose Ver- 
 ner Haslam was thinking of him at that very 
 moment and lamenting to himself weakly 
 that he had been drawn into a path whose 
 issue he could not see. 
 
 Perhaps the presence of the man, who 
 had become in a sense his master, was real- 
 ized subconsciously by the clergyman, for 
 at the moment that Sartoris passed by his 
 compartment the shoulders of the substitute 
 vicar were drawn up into a shrug and shud- 
 der. But to his conscious mind there came 
 no warning. 
 
 Sartoris, while not a crack, was never- 
 theless something of an athlete, and the 
 passage on the footplate gave him no par- 
 ticular concern, once he had accustomed 
 himself to the swaying and the exact 
 269
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 counterpoise it was necessary to impart to 
 his own body. 
 
 Now he stood at the very end of the foot- 
 plate which was on the carriage next the 
 horse-box. Soon he had passed to the end 
 of the horse-box. Quickly he raised the 
 tail-light and swung it in a circle for a few 
 seconds. 
 
 He wished to hurl it in such a way that 
 the flame would surely be extinguished, as 
 he wanted no warning to be given to the 
 train behind which was to complete his 
 project. 
 
 He realized that if he merely dropped the 
 lantern to the line, there was a bare possi- 
 bility that it would continue to burn. 
 
 His semi-circular swings were justified a 
 moment later, when he flung the lamp to the 
 ground, for there was a sudden impact, and 
 then no light showed. 
 
 With one foot resting upon the carriage 
 and one upon the horse-box, he pulled the 
 270
 
 THE WRECK 
 
 slip cord and had the instant pleasure of 
 seeing the horse-box and its freight drop be- 
 hind. 
 
 The Whip would not run. The race 
 would be lost. He would be saved from 
 Kelly's clutches. Brancaster would be im- 
 poverished and the marriage of Lady Diana 
 and Brancaster put far off. 
 
 Quietly he slipped along the footplate 
 and regained his own carriage and compart- 
 ment without his absence having been noted. 
 
 With a speed that gradually fell away the 
 horse-box, with the Whip inside and 
 Harry fast asleep, rumbled through the tun- 
 nel and came to a stop on the main line, 
 directly in the path of the first train which 
 should come along, near Menfield Junction. 
 
 The whistle and the sounds of the rapid 
 approach through the tunnel of the down 
 express came very plainly through the dark- 
 ness, just as a motor containing two men and 
 Mrs. Beamish dashed around a bend in the 
 271
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 road and came to a palpitating, panting stop 
 near the horse-box, and at one side of the 
 line. 
 
 Mrs. Beamish and her two escorts from 
 the establishment below stairs at Falcon- 
 hurst darted across the line and pounded 
 upon the door of the horse-box as the train 
 in the tunnel moved nearer and nearer. 
 
 Finally Harry put his head out of the 
 window and the frenzied voice of Mrs. 
 Beamish came to him: 
 
 "Quick, Harry, the down express's on you. 
 You're cut off and the Whip and you'll be 
 killed!" she shouted above the roar of the on- 
 coming train. 
 
 Harry cast one glance behind him, saw 
 the rushing express and then threw down 
 the sidedoor of the horse-box. 
 
 The Whip was led across the line and to 
 
 safety under the very glare of the headlight 
 
 of the express. Not a second after this the 
 
 engine of the onrushing train plowed into 
 
 272
 
 THE WRECK 
 
 the car just left by Harry and the Whip and 
 was derailed, while the engine driver fell 
 badly hurt to the ground. 
 
 The light impediment of the horse-box 
 served to derail several of the carriages be- 
 hind which had been traveling at high 
 speed, and a number of passengers were 
 hurled out, or thrown violently against par- 
 titions and other immovable objects within 
 the train. 
 
 Amid escaping steam and a fire, which 
 had started among the wreckage, the work 
 of succor was begun. 
 
 Among those who labored none worked 
 with greater courage than the Rev. Verner 
 Haslam. His train had been stopped after 
 the crash, and had backed down to render 
 aid. It was he who crawled among the 
 splintered, burning mass on the line to bring 
 out many of the children who had been in 
 the express. 
 
 273
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 AT NEWMARKET 
 
 ON the day after the wreck and the day be- 
 fore the great race the Whip made her 
 triumphal entry into Newmarket. The 
 march toward what all in the Beverley sta- 
 bles felt to be victory ended for the day 
 when the racer was escorted by touts, racing 
 men, tipsters and youngsters into the yard of 
 the Rutland Arms Hotel, with several 
 policemen to keep the crowd at a safe dis- 
 tance from the pride of Beverley. 
 
 Lady Diana and Mrs. Beamish had ar- 
 rived at Newmarket in a motor-car and 
 were already at the inn when the mare was 
 led into the yard, accompanied by Lam- 
 bert and Harry Anson, as well as a small 
 army of attendants. As soon as the Whip 
 274
 
 AT NEWMARKET 
 
 was halted inside the ivy-covered enclosure, 
 Lady Diana could not resist welcoming the 
 beautiful mare with an enthusiastic kiss on 
 her soft nose. 
 
 "You darling!" the girl cried. "And 
 looking more beautiful than ever isn't she, 
 Betty? I hope she's none the worse for her 
 fright last night, Tom?" 
 
 "Lord! no, my Lady! Playful as a lamb 
 she is, biting and lashing out at everybody 
 as comes within a mile of her," answered 
 Lambert, with pardonable pride. 
 
 Mrs. Beamish, too, patted the Whip's 
 neck. 
 
 "Pretty dear! let's hope she'll give a good 
 account of them as tried to do for her, when 
 I come across 'em," Tom told her, and the 
 honest fellow rested a loving hand on the 
 mare's back. 
 
 "There take her to her box, Tom," 
 Lady Diana directed, "the old Beverley 
 box that has seen so many a winner go forth 
 275
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 from it to carry the Beverley colors first 
 past the post." Her eyes sparkled as she 
 saw again the throngs of eager people madly 
 cheering her grandfather's victories. 
 
 "And it'll see another to-morrow, my 
 lady for it's never sheltered a better horse 
 than the Whip no, not though the stable 
 door's that thick with our plates as you can 
 scarcely see the wood between 'em!" The 
 trainer spoke with the assurance of one who 
 knew. He had not spent almost thirty 
 years with the Beverley horses without be- 
 ing confident by this time of his own judg- 
 ment. 
 
 "But there's room for one more plate, 
 Lambert," Mrs. Beamish said with notice- 
 able cordiality, "and we'll nail it there to- 
 morrow, won't we, Di?" she appealed. 
 
 "That we will!" Lady Diana rejoined. 
 
 "Ever since the Fifth Harry gave it us, our 
 
 crest has been 'The Whip,' our motto ' 
 
 276
 
 AT NEWMARKET 
 
 way for me!' and to-morrow we'll take our 
 way to triumph. Yes. 'The Whip's' the 
 sign that England rules the sea, and 'The 
 Whip' shall be the sign of victory for Bev- 
 erley by land!" 
 
 There was a cheer from all the bystanders, 
 as Lady Diana, making a sign to Harry 
 Anson to follow with his charge, led the 
 way to the paddock, leaving Mrs. Beam- 
 ish and Lambert behind her, alone in the 
 courtyard. 
 
 "And how may you be feeling, Mrs. B 
 mish?" Tom inquired, not quite certain of 
 his reception. 
 
 Mrs. Beamish showed some signs of emo- 
 tion. 
 
 "I'll not disguise from you, Lambert, that 
 I'm not feeling quite myself," she answered. 
 
 "Ha! Feeling more like your old self and 
 and less like your new eh? less like the 
 Hon. Mrs. Beamish and more like Betty 
 277
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 Dawkins eh? more like the jackdaw and 
 less like the peacock's feathers, eh?" Tom 
 was resolved not to be too kind. 
 
 "Peacock's feathers, indeed!" she ex- 
 claimed indignantly. 
 
 "Yes . . . Gold 'andbags and watches 
 and lace 'ankerchiefs, and such like." Here 
 he burst into a loud guffaw. "Lor! that 
 young woman she did take you on proper!" 
 he jeered, recalling Mrs. Beamish's adven- 
 ture in the Chamber of Horrors. 
 
 "Yes! and you looked on and let her. 
 Tom Lambert, I'll never forgive you!" 
 
 "Come, I like that! Who had me locked 
 up in the Chamber of Horrors?" he re- 
 torted. 
 
 "It was your doing!" Mrs. Beamish told 
 him, vindictively. "When a man associates 
 with murderers, he must expect to be locked 
 up. Why did you hide?" 
 
 Tom smiled broadly, knowing that he had 
 the situation well in hand. 
 278
 
 AT NEWMARKET 
 
 "Because you've got a suspicious mind," 
 he explained. 
 
 "Because you've got a guilty one," she 
 corrected. 
 
 Lambert saw that the lady was a bit more 
 difficult than he had believed and he 
 straightway lost his assurance. 
 
 "Stop that, Betty! It ain't a thing for 
 joking," he said with feeling. And as the 
 Whip's jockey reappeared in the courtyard 
 Tom turned to him and called, "Harry, my 
 lad, come here, and if you can, just you 
 speak up what you've got to say." 
 
 Harry Anson approached Mrs. Beamish 
 with his cap in his hand. 
 
 "I I want to thank you, ma'am, for what 
 you did last night for saving my life," 
 he said choking and embarrassed. "Yes, 
 ma'am, it was so," he continued, as Mrs. 
 Beamish started to protest. "If it hadn't 
 been for you, my sister'd ha' been left alone 
 in the world along in her trouble." 
 279
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "Trouble ?" Mrs. Beamish inquired, not 
 understanding. 
 
 Harry's emotion almost got the better of 
 him. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, wrong there has been and 
 shame but it wasn't from him it come" 
 and the boy pointed to Lambert "but 
 from the same hand as tried to wreck the 
 Whip last night." 
 
 "From Captain Sartoris!" Mrs. Beamish 
 cried, a great light breaking over her at 
 last. 
 
 "Yes, that's him! . . . Him as wanted 
 me to pull that mare him as would have 
 ruined me as he'd ruined her my sister!" 
 The poor boy nearly broke down as he told 
 his great trouble. 
 
 The good woman put her hand tenderly 
 on Harry's shoulder, and in a most motherly 
 way she comforted him as best she could. 
 
 "My boy, my boy " she said, "I'm sorry, 
 very sorry if there is anything I can do 
 280
 
 AT NEWMARKET 
 
 if presently Myrtle can have a new start 
 in a new land " 
 
 "Oh, ma'am! if it only could be!" the 
 lad cried impetuously, hope springing anew 
 within him. 
 
 "It shall be," she assured him. "I know 
 I can promise as much as that for Lord Bev- 
 erley." 
 
 "Thank you, ma'am, from my heart and 
 hers." And Harry's eyes filled in his com- 
 plete thankfulness. 
 
 "There, there, that'll do, my lad! You 
 go and look after your 'oss," Lambert said, 
 with clumsy kindness. 
 
 As Harry hurried away the trainer turned 
 his shining face to Mrs. Beamish. 
 
 "And now, Betty what have you got to 
 say?" he asked. 
 
 "Sorry, Tom, with all my heart. I take it 
 back." 
 
 "Now you see what comes along o' sus- 
 picion and jealousy," he chided her. 
 281
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "Well, you needn't triumph over me," she 
 protested. 
 
 "I'm not a-triumphing over you, Betty 
 only a-telling of you for your good, that 
 there train accident all lies at your door!" 
 
 "My door!" 
 
 "And the door of the Chamber of 
 Horrors, what you left locked on me for 
 four-and-twenty hours. If you had not been 
 jealous and followed me to Tussaud's 
 
 "You wouldn't have hidden among the 
 murderers and we should never have known 
 of the plot at all," she interrupted. 
 
 "Well, I never!" Lambert was surprised 
 into exclaiming. Mrs. Beamish's nimble 
 wits were too much for him. 
 
 "No, you never would!" she hastened to 
 follow up her advantage. "And the Whip 
 with Harry and the lad would have been 
 smashed up, as well as the others." 
 
 "Trust a woman to turn a story round her 
 282
 
 AT NEWMARKET 
 
 own way and " Tom fumed and sput- 
 tered. 
 
 "Look!" she suddenly said, pointing to 
 the patch of street visible through the en- 
 trance. 
 
 "Captain Sartoris!" Lambert exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes. Now if you want someone to talk 
 to and tell off talk to him! and when 
 you've done that, you can come and talk to 
 me you'll find me," she ordered, conscious 
 of her woman's mastery. 
 
 "Where?" asked Tom. 
 
 "Where you ought to be and never are 
 with your horse!" And there was a 
 wicked gleam of triumph in Mrs. Beam- 
 ish's eye. 
 
 283
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 MRS. D'AQUILA'S INSPIRATION 
 
 "AH, Lambert, the Whip arrived?" Sar- 
 toris's manner was assured and easy. 
 
 Lambert looked him directly in the eye. 
 
 "Yes, she has," he sputtered, "and she's 
 going to arrive to-morrow, too, you infernal 
 scoundrel! Don't talk to me don't you 
 dare to show your ugly nose near my horse 
 or I'll pull it for you." 
 
 The Captain's smile was contemptuous. 
 
 "My good idiot you are very drunk," 
 he said. 
 
 "No, I'm not," disclaimed the trainer. 
 
 "Then what the deuce do you mean by " 
 
 "I mean," said Lambert, sternly, "that I 
 was at Madame 'Toosoo's' on Saturday 
 night, Captain Sartoris, close to your el- 
 284
 
 MRS. D'AQUILA'S INSPIRATION 
 
 bow, at your back, and I heard every; 
 blooming word you said." 
 
 Mrs. D'Aquila had followed Sartoris in- 
 to the yard and she heard Lambert's last 
 words. 
 
 "Dear me, who is this creature?" she 
 'drawled, surveying the horseman through 
 her glasses. 
 
 "You'll jolly soon know to-morrow," the 
 outraged and angry trainer said, "when 
 you're both in the dock, madam, and you 
 hear what I've sworn that you wanted it 
 so badly that you had the pluck but there 
 wasn't an accident " 
 
 And Lambert, who knew that if he re- 
 mained longer in the yard he couldn't keep 
 from thrashing Sartoris, left abruptly. 
 
 The Captain was slightly taken aback. 
 
 "Did you hear that?" he asked the 
 woman. "Your own words. The beast 
 must have been there really hidden we 
 never saw him and he heard everything." 
 285
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "What does it matter?" returned the 
 steadier nerved woman. "He's no wit- 
 ness. And it's one oath against two. 1 
 shall swear that I was never there in mj 
 life." 
 
 "Is it worth the trouble?" 
 
 "My dear Greville " 
 
 "You've forgotten the accident." 
 
 "I've not. I always thought it possible," 
 she said. 
 
 "I didn't," he returned sharply. "I 
 thought that when the horse-box stopped 
 on the line, the lad, the trainer, whoever it 
 was could get out go for help at any 
 rate jump out when they heard the next train 
 coming. I never thought of a dozen poor 
 devils torn and cut and thrown about 
 smashed 1" 
 
 "All third-class passengers," the woman 
 answered with a shrug. "Dreadful things 
 are always happening to people of that 
 
 sort." 
 
 286
 
 MRS. D'AQUILA'S INSPIRATION 
 
 "Quite so," returned Sartoris, "but you 
 mustn't kill 'em for all that. I only thought 
 I was going to do for the horse. What's 
 the punishment for manslaughter?" 
 
 Mrs. D'Aquila laughed outright. 
 
 "Fiddlesticks," she commented. "They 
 can't prove anything. Where's your mo- 
 tive?" 
 
 "I'll tell you," he said. "The truth will 
 come out if any of these people die. It was 
 my work. I tried to kill my cousin's horse. 
 Kelly, the bookmaker, has laid thousands 
 against it. In Kelly's pocket is a bill of 
 mine with Di's name upon it. She did 
 not put it there. If the Whip does not win 
 that bill comes back to me. There's my 
 motive. If the Whip wins he'll give the 
 bill to Di." 
 
 For the moment she abandoned her de- 
 fense of him to him. 
 
 "And if you have any sense," she said, 
 
 287
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "you'll be in Paris to-night clear away by 
 to-morrow " 
 
 "That won't prevent the horse from win- 
 ning," he said, "won't stop Kelly. The 
 minute Beverley sees that bill the chain's 
 complete. I shall stand proved a criminal 
 a train wrecker nearly a murderer. I 
 shan't hesitate." 
 
 "Don't be absurd," she advised. 
 
 "I'm not," he answered sullenly. "Do 
 you think I'd pass the rest of my life broke? 
 Begging hunted no, thanks. I've had 
 my time not half a bad time. It must end 
 some day, and I shan't hesitate." 
 
 Sartoris had drawn a revolver and was 
 looking at it. 
 
 "What's that?" she asked. 
 
 "That," he smiled bitterly. "That's 
 Harry Anson's revolver. He left it in my 
 rooms. Poetic justice if I used it. I'm 
 afraid, Nora, the chain's too strong. 
 There's no way out." 
 
 288
 
 MRS. D'AQUILA'S INSPIRATION 
 
 She looked at the weapon in his hand and 
 then at him quickly. 
 
 "Yes, there is," she exclaimed suddenly, 
 "and almost a certainty. That thing made 
 me think of it. You told me Harry Anson 
 came to your chambers and threatened you. 
 If I were you I should go in fear of my life." 
 
 "I!" 
 
 "And I should swear it forcibly," she 
 went on, "before the nearest magistrate in 
 London, and come down to-morrow with 
 detectives and arrest him on the course, just 
 before the race." 
 
 "They'd get another jockey." 
 
 "To ride the Whip? You know that's 
 impossible!" 
 
 Sartoris took a deep breath of relief. 
 
 "That's true!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "Very well," she said enthusiastically. 
 "No race is over until it's lost. Here is 
 your chance. Almost a certainty. Take it 
 and win!" 
 
 289
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "By Heaven, I will," he said fervently. 
 
 "Then put that thing away," she said, in- 
 dicating the revolver. "Don't lose a minute! 
 I'll walk with you to the station. Go up to 
 town at once and do your work. We'll see 
 'Brancaster broken and beaten yet." 
 
 290
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE TRUTH AT LAST 
 
 As Sartoris and Mrs. D'Aquila strolled off 
 together toward the station, Mrs. Beamish 
 and Tom Lambert watched them from the 
 yard of the inn, which they had entered 
 soon after the others left it. 
 
 "There they go. A pretty pair of beau- 
 ties. They ought to marry each other," 
 said poor Tom, who had marrying on the 
 brain whenever he found himself alone with 
 his Betty. 
 
 "If you'd seen them stand there, as bold 
 as brass," he went on, "and swear me out 
 as if I'd dreamed everything I heard them 
 say." 
 
 "Quite sure you didn't, Tom?" she asked 
 tartly. 
 
 "Just as sure as I am that I didn't dream 
 291
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 that I saw that young woman filch from you 
 everything you had with you," he said. 
 
 Then his mind wandered into another 
 channel as he thought of a day years ago. 
 
 "Remember, Betty," he said, "what a day 
 we had haymaking in Farmer Marsh's 
 meadow? You wore a little lilac sunbon- 
 net and looked a daisy, and no sweeter daisy 
 doesn't blow " 
 
 "Oh, Tom," she said, trying to stop 
 him. 
 
 "Remember, Betty," he continued, "after 
 supper you and me went for a walk along 
 Miller's lane. Wasn't the honeysuckle 
 sweet, Betty?" 
 
 Old memories were stirring in her, too. 
 
 "It was, Tom," she said. "Ah ! there's no 
 place like a hedge for honeysuckle." 
 
 "Remember, Betty, you wanted a bunch 
 and I climbed up to get it for you?" 
 
 She sighed. 
 
 "And tore your hands with a great bram-
 
 THE TRUTH AT LAST 
 
 ble your little hand and I tied it up for 
 you with my handkerchief." 
 
 "And while you were doing it I " 
 
 He finished his sentence with an expres- 
 sive pantomime of kissing. 
 
 "Don't, Tom," she begged, as old mem- 
 ories seemed about to make her give to Tom 
 his long deferred "Yes." 
 
 "I can't help it, Betty," he said. 
 
 Now once more Betty called upon the 
 volume which had prevented her many 
 times from forgetting that she belonged by 
 marriage to the almost princely house of 
 Beverley, and so could not marry one be- 
 neath her in station. 
 
 "Save me, Burke," she said. "Beverley, 
 Geoffrey, Vandeleur, Delacroix, George, 
 Jocelyn,' " She was repeating the titles 
 and names of the Marquis of Beverley as 
 they appeared in "Burke's Peerage," that 
 she might conquer her passion for Tom 
 Lambert. 
 
 293
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "I'm going," she lamented, and then con- 
 tinued to quote : " 'Tenth Marquis of K. 
 G., K. C. B.;K. C, S. I. "' 
 
 But Lambert overcame the last obstacle 
 in his path of love, seized her, drew her to 
 him, and kissed her, just as he should have 
 done long ago. And to his wonder she re- 
 turned his caress. 
 
 "Oh! Tom I mean Mr. Lambert what 
 have you done?" she cried. 
 
 Then both of them became aware of the 
 presence in the yard of Lady Diana. The 
 girl was laughing at them. 
 
 "I've compromised you in public and 
 now you'll have to marry me," said Lam- 
 bert with a laugh. 
 
 "Do you know, Betty, I really think you 
 will," put in Lady Diana as Lambert and 
 Mrs. Beamish retreated into another corner 
 of the yard. 
 
 But Lady Diana had scant time to give 
 294
 
 THE TRUTH AT LAST 
 
 to their affairs, for a moment later Lord 
 Brancaster appeared. 
 
 He had received a letter from the girl 
 telling him how the Rev. Vrner Haslam 
 had been taken to Falconhurst after the 
 wreck, and how unnerved he had seemed. 
 He had really appeared on the point of tell- 
 ing something to Lady Diana, but the next 
 morning had left Falconhurst without a 
 word. 
 
 Lady Diana had added in the letter that 
 Lord Beverley had applied for warrants for 
 Sartoris and Mrs. D'Aquila on the strength 
 of an affidavit made by Tom Lambert. 
 
 Brancaster had rushed to Newmarket the 
 moment he received the letter. 
 
 The young people were commiserating 
 with each other on the flight of Haslam, 
 when that individual entered the stable 
 yard. He was pale and agitated and even 
 trembling as he approached. 
 295
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Haslam," said Lady Diana, "I 
 was just talking of you. Why did you run 
 away from us so suddenly at Falconhurst?" 
 
 "I was afraid " began Haslam, and 
 then stopped. 
 
 "Of what?" she asked gently. 
 
 "What I had done," he said. 
 
 "You should have been proud. It was 
 splendid work. You saved all those chil- 
 dren. You crawled into the wreckage 
 when others feared to do so." 
 
 "And can't save myself my soul my 
 life," he said in a seeming agony. 
 
 "Come come where is the danger?" 
 asked the young girl. 
 
 A terror almost such as might come to one 
 demented at imaginary perils crossed the 
 pallid face of the man in clerical garb. 
 
 "Sartoris Greville Sartoris," he said, 
 "the devil loose at my throat next save 
 me" 
 
 296
 
 THE TRUTH AT LAST 
 
 "Mr. Haslam, you are in no danger here," 
 Brancaster said, reassuringly. 
 
 "Why not? Does he stop at anything?" 
 went on the frightened clergyman. 
 
 "What do you mean?" demanded the 
 young Earl, now determined that the scene 
 should end or that the cleric should explain 
 himself. 
 
 "That I am a coward," said Haslam. 
 "Fear sealed my lips. Fear opens them." 
 
 There was a murmur of astonishment 
 from Brancaster and Lady Diana, and then 
 the pale clergyman hurried on: 
 
 "That was his work wasn't it? You 
 told me the accident?" 
 
 Tom Lambert had left Betty's side and 
 was now openly listening to Haslam. 
 
 "I know it was his work, sir," interrupted 
 Lambert. "I heard it planned between him 
 and Mrs. D'Aquila." 
 
 The vicar was looking straight before 
 297
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 him. In the vacancy he seemed to see hor- 
 rible sights, hear terrifying sounds. 
 
 "Murder 1" he muttered. "A dozen lives 
 a hundred what did he care? He 
 would have taken them to gain his end. 
 Would he stop at mine?" 
 
 "Why should he want ?" Brancaster be- 
 gan. 
 
 "My silence forever! The silence of the 
 grave," said the clergyman almost beside 
 himself in his cowardly passion. "Because 
 I helped his villainy he drove me to it by 
 fear. Then held me dumb by fear. Now 
 I have seen his work, his plan complete 
 reckless remorseless the crash the torn 
 bodies on the line I've seen the fire- 
 heard the children scream what is my life 
 to him? Save me I Save me, if you will. 
 Put prison walls between us. There I can- 
 atone repent." 
 
 "Of what?" asked the young Earl, going 
 298
 
 THE TRUTH AT LAST 
 
 closer to Haslam and looking at him pecul- 
 iarly. 
 
 Haslam raised his head, looked directly 
 at the questioner, and then at Lady Diana. 
 
 "The lie that wrecked your lives," he 
 said. 
 
 After a pause he went on: 
 
 "There was a marriage. That is true.'* 
 
 "Between me and Mrs. D'Aquila?" de- 
 manded Brancaster. 
 
 "Between the woman and one who took 
 your place," confessed the weakling. 
 
 "Who was it?" came from Brancaster. 
 
 "Sartoris," said Haslam. 
 
 "I did the rest," he added in a trembling, 
 low voice, "wrote it in the book lies! 
 Swore to it, after lies ! Fear drove me as 
 it drives me now! Rank fear, fear for my 
 body greater for my soul pity I confess 
 forgive and save me." 
 
 "Mr. Haslam," said the generous hearted 
 299
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 Lady Diana, "you shall be safe with us. 
 Stay with us until the truth is clear and 
 proved." 
 
 And in his agony of soul, the Rev. Ver- 
 ner Haslam joined the hands of Lady Diana 
 and Brancaster, and held them both in his. 
 
 300
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE WHIP WINS 
 
 IT was only a few moments before the great 
 Two Thousand Guinea Race. 
 
 In the paddock the f rierids of Falconhurst 
 were listening to the self-congratulations of 
 Lord Beverley that in spite of all that had 
 been done to prevent the Whip's starting, 
 everything was now in readiness. 
 
 Harry Anson had been weighed in and 
 the Whip herself was pawing the turf wait- 
 ing for the race to be called and for Harry 
 to spring into the saddle. 
 
 In anticipation of the effect the confes- 
 sion of Haslam would have upon the Mar- 
 quis of Beverley, Lady Diana and the Earl 
 of Brancaster were openly strolling together 
 about the paddock, confident and hopeful 
 301
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 too that the big race would give Brancaster 
 a war fund against his enemies. 
 
 In the press in the paddock Captain Sar- 
 toris, followed at a little distance by two 
 alert-featured but unfashionably garbed 
 men, met Mrs. D'Aquila. 
 
 Their greetings were cordial and happy, 
 
 "It's all right," Sartoris told the woman, 
 joyously. "You're a clever woman, Nora. 
 The magistrate was a dear old person most 
 obliging issued a warrant at once said he 
 would lock him up, too, if he could not find 
 good bail of course he will, and then re- 
 lease him to-morrow." 
 
 "I don't particularly care if they bail him 
 to-morrow, as long as you take him to-day," 
 she said. 
 
 "That's sure enough," answered the Cap- 
 tain confidently. "The detective-inspector 
 and another chap came down with me. 
 Luckily they don't know Anson by sight, so 
 302
 
 THE WHIP WINS 
 
 I have come to look for him, and I shall 
 find him at exactly the right moment." 
 
 Kelly, the "King of the Ring," came up 
 to Sartoris at this moment and with him 
 stepped aside. 
 
 "Anything to tell me?" he asked in a low 
 tone. 
 
 "Only that you can give me the bill if you 
 like," the other responded. 
 
 Kelly appeared pleased. 
 
 "You've done your best to earn it," he 
 said, "but the job isn't finished, you know." 
 
 "It will be very soon," put in the Cap- 
 tain quickly. "I told you what I meant to 
 do the men are here." 
 
 "Then hurry up, my lad," the bookmaker 
 told him. "They will be mounted in a 
 minute. Time's short and remember, if 
 the Whip loses, the bill and the money's 
 yours, but if the Whip wins it goes to Lady 
 Di. You know what's at stake on the race." 
 303
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 The loud call of the clerk of the course 
 for the entrants to take their places sounded 
 throughout the paddock. 
 
 Harry Anson and Tom Lambert ap- 
 peared leading the Whip. 
 
 "We've just saddled, my Lady," Lam- 
 bert said to Lord Beverley's granddaughter. 
 "There goes the bell! Anything to tell 
 Harry?" 
 
 Lady Diana caressed the Whip while she 
 answered : 
 
 "Only this everything that wickedness 
 could do has been done to stop our horse, 
 but she is safe. Now, for the honor of the 
 colors, go and ride your best." 
 
 With his hand on the jockey's shoulder, 
 the young Earl added to the spurring speech 
 of Lady Diana: 
 
 "For you're carrying hearts and hopes to- 
 day as well as fortunes. All England will 
 cheer you when you win, Harry, and I shall 
 304
 
 THE WHIP WINS 
 
 be the first to shake you by the hand. In a 
 few minutes it will all be over." 
 
 "Yes, my lord, all over and " began 
 Harry. 
 
 But Sartoris had pointed to the jockey and 
 the two sharp-faced men had left the Cap- 
 tain and were now at Harry's side. 
 
 "Is your name Harry Anson?" de- 
 manded the first of these. 
 
 "Yes," said the jockey, one foot in the 
 stirrup. 
 
 The man held out to him a revolver. 
 
 "Is that your revolver? Your name's 
 scratched on it," he said. 
 
 "My revolver? Yes," said Anson, won- 
 deringly. 
 
 "Found in the rooms of Captain Sartoris 
 ) 
 
 "I- ' Harry paused, while the detective 
 said brisk.ly 
 
 "I'm sorry, but I must arrest you on a 
 305
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 charge of having threatened the life of Cap- 
 tain Sartoris at his chambers in the Albany 
 on Saturday night. Whatever you say may 
 be used against you." 
 
 "And I'll answer the charge," retorted 
 Harry. "Let the whole world know the 
 truth, after the race." 
 
 "No, you must come now," said the detec- 
 tive. 
 
 "Before the race?" asked the agonized 
 Harry. 
 
 "At once," he was told. 
 
 Lord Brancaster moved closely up to the 
 two detectives. 
 
 "I am Lord Brancaster," he said. "I will 
 go bail for anything you like only let the 
 lad ride. Hang it, officers, you are Eng- 
 lishmen ! You are sportsmen ! Give us fair 
 play! I'll stake my honor the lad's inno- 
 cent I'll stake my honor he shall answer 
 to the charge. You don't know what this 
 race means to all of us. Let him ride." 
 306
 
 THE WHIP WINS 
 
 "I'm very sorry, my lord," the detective 
 answered. "Give you my word, my lord, 
 I'd like to, but I can't. We must do our 
 duty." 
 
 And over the protests of Brancaster, Lord 
 Beverley and Lord Clanmore of the Jockey 
 Club, the detectives put heavy hands upon 
 the shoulders of Anson. 
 
 Clanmore, who had an official position at 
 the track in addition to being a steward, 
 tried to step into the breach. 
 
 "But, hang it, Beverley," he said, "we 
 won't stand by and see it done. I'm 
 here Denham's here we're stewards, and 
 if there is another lad about who can ride 
 the weight give him the colors. We will 
 waive the weighing out. He shall mount 
 at once." 
 
 The parties to the controversy were now 
 
 surrounded by an eager, excited crowd, 
 
 many of whose members had bet heavily on 
 
 the Whip and were interested for that and 
 
 30?
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 other reasons of pure sportsmanship to see 
 the pride of the Beverley stables start. 
 
 Lady Diana pressed herself forward. 
 
 "Anyone we name, Lord Clanmore?" 
 she asked. 
 
 "Anyone, Lady Di," he responded, gal- 
 lantly. "Rules be hanged at a time like 
 this ! The Jockey Club does what it likes." 
 
 At this staunch speech the crowd cheered. 
 
 "Very well, then," said Lady Diana, her 
 little fists clenched. "Please remember 
 only two people can manage our horse. 
 With a strange lad she's no use. You 
 want to see fair play to see the public, 
 who have backed us, have an honest run for 
 their money. There's only one way. You 
 promise whoever I name you'll let ride?" 
 
 "Yes," returned Clanmore and Denham, 
 the two stewards. 
 
 "I name myself," she exclaimed. 
 
 Denham and Clanmore both protested 
 308
 
 THE WHIP WINS 
 
 that it was impossible, that it was unsafe, 
 that it had never been done. 
 
 "A girl has never ridden a race," ended 
 Clanmore. 
 
 "Then let her now," the girl persisted. 
 
 In their chivalric mood Clanmore and 
 Denham might have consented to anything, 
 but Kelly put a stop to this emotional turn of 
 affairs and recalled to both Brancaster and 
 Lady Diana the solid basis on which they 
 had hoped to set their fortunes. 
 
 "And if she does ride," he shouted, "the 
 ring won't pay. It isn't racing." 
 
 For a moment it seemed as though this 
 ultimatum of the ring had indeed ended the 
 whole matter, but Brancaster turned to the 
 crowd of racing enthusiasts. 
 
 "Then I will tell you what is racing," he 
 
 shouted in his turn. "You, all of you who 
 
 have backed the horse I will tell you what 
 
 is racing what is honesty what is sport, 
 
 309
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 fair play. Will you stand by and see your- 
 selves robbed?" 
 
 The crowd was catching fire at his in- 
 vective. There were cries of "No, no, no!" 
 
 "I have given my honor," he went on still 
 in his strong voice, "that the police shall 
 take the lad the minute he's past the post, 
 but they say 'No.' What do you say? 
 There's your jockey and there's your horse. 
 Let the lad go. Will you lose your money, 
 or will you follow me?" 
 
 And the young Earl hurled himself upon 
 the nearer of the two detectives. He had 
 nearly freed Anson when the mob realized 
 what he was doing. In an instant they were 
 about the two detectives. Despite the assist- 
 ance of Kelly given to the representatives 
 of the law, they were hustled from the pad- 
 'dock, while the jockey was fairly hurled 
 upon the Whip. 
 
 The moment he felt the nervous horse- 
 310
 
 THE WHIP WINS 
 
 flesh between his knees he was off upon the 
 course almost automatically. 
 
 At a signal from Lord Clanmore, who 
 realized the necessity of haste, the starting 
 signal was given and they were off. 
 
 Now it seemed as though the events of the 
 few minutes preceding the actual race had 
 done their work with Anson. He was alive 
 to his fingertips and never did his work 
 better. The Whip, too, had profited by the 
 long delay. Her nerves had been stretched 
 to the breaking point, and she found the 
 greatest relief in furious action just as her 
 rider did. 
 
 It was with difficulty that Harry pre- 
 vented his mount from taking the lead at 
 the first moment the race began, but when 
 they were in sight of the post he had passed' 
 all save the leader. Then, without using 
 spur or whip, he simply shook out his reins. 
 
 In her wonderful stride the Whip passed 
 3"
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 the leader and, half a length ahead of her, 
 reached the post. 
 
 Into the paddock rode Anson, the victor, 
 on the Whip. The jockey's face was white, 
 and he was trembling violently. The race 
 had told far more on him than on the splen- 
 did Whip, whose respiration was still even 
 and regular, though, of course, considerably 
 quickened. 
 
 The center of a cheering knot, Lady 
 Diana and Brancaster pressed toward the 
 mare, their arms around each other and 
 their dignity as peer and marquis's heir com- 
 pletely gone for the moment. Somehow the 
 story of their romance and of what they had 
 at stake on the race had got about, and their 
 sympathetic friends were ready to weep or 
 laugh with them or do both in turn. 
 
 The two detectives met Lord Beverley 
 near the Whip. The one in authority had 
 an open telegram in his hand. His whole 
 312
 
 THE WHIP WINS 
 
 demeanor showed that there was now no in- 
 tention upon his part of arresting the jockey. 
 
 "My lord," he said very humbly to Bev- 
 erley, "we've just had a wire from Scotland 
 Yard. The warrant on your application 
 has been issued." 
 
 Beverley turned sternly upon his cousin, 
 Captain Sartoris, and Mrs. D'Aquila where 
 they stood in a corner of the paddock. 
 
 "Then don't let them slip away," he said. 
 "Arrest them at once." 
 
 The detectives seized Sartoris and Mrs. 
 D'Aquila and moved out of the paddock. 
 
 Then unmindful of all the crowd, Bran- 
 caster again put his arms about Lady Diana. 
 
 "Now what's this?" demanded the Mar- 
 quis of Beverley. 
 
 Lady Diana raised her blue eyes to her 
 grandfather. 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you all about it," she said, 
 beginning a quick recital. "Once there was 
 31.3
 
 THE WHIP 
 
 a fine young man who was foolishly called 
 by his people, who didn't know him, the 
 Wicked Earl, but" 
 
 THE END
 
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