"Well?" he said gruffly, without attempting to change his position.
"Short, and not polite!" retorted Jasper, shaking him again. "Didn't I
tell you I'd come here to-day, you imp of darkness?"
"You did, guv'nor," the man replied sullenly.
"Well, here I am. You're not drunk, are you? Here--let's look at you."
With a cruel smile, the soft, amiable Mr. Vermont seized the ear of the
dwarfed jockey and dragged him to the light. "No, not drunk--for a
wonder. Well, you know what to do to-morrow?"
The man nodded sulkily.
"Tighten and choke off at the last hurdle. Mind you do it neatly, too.
You can do it, I know; and it won't be the first little affair you've
sold, eh? You sold one too many, though, when you crossed my path, and
you know what will happen if you fail me."
"All right," the jockey muttered hoarsely.
"I hope it will be all right," said his persecutor, shaking him gently
to and fro by the ear. "If not, you'll find yourself in the care of a
paternal Government--I tell you--picking oakum."
The man gave a sudden jerk and released himself from the cruel grasp;
then he looked up almost piteously.
"Must we do it, guv'nor?" he said hoarsely. "I've seen 'im----"
"Him! whom, you idiot?"
"Him--Mr. Leroy--as we're to sell."
"You're to sell, you mean, you gallows-bird," returned Jasper.
The man eyed him viciously.
"Yus," he growled, "you think you're going to git off scot-free, don't
yer? What if I don't do it? He giv' me a tenner, he did. 'E's a real
gent. What if I don't do it?" he repeated.
Mr. Vermont's eyes narrowed till he looked like a snake about to strike.
Raising the riding-whip which he had in his hand, he seized the wretched
creature once more, and brought the whip down again and again on his
almost skeleton body.
"Play me false, you hound, and I'll kill you," he almost hissed; and,
half beside himself with pain and rage, the jockey gasped brokenly: "Stop! stop! I'll do it."
It was just five o'clock when Lady Constance and Leroy returned from
their ride. During the course of it Adrien had realised something of his
cousin's beauty of character, as well as of face. Until that day he had
only regarded her as a younger sister, pretty, perhaps, in a quiet,
retiring way, but nothing more. Now, as he lifted her down from the
saddle, he could have bent and reverently kissed the little foot that
lodged so lightly in the stirrup.