  BRACK and Rose arrived at Doncaster on the eve of the St. Leger, staying at a quiet hotel on the outskirts of the town. The railway journey from Torquay had been a source of anxiety to Rose. Brack made audible observations about the occupants of the carriage, which were resented, and Rose exercised diplomacy to keep the peace. He was horrified to see Brack pull a black bottle out of his bag. "Beer," said Brack; "will you have some?" Rose declined in disgust; Brack pulled at it long and lustily, emptied it before reaching Exeter, got out there, went into the refreshment room, had it refilled, and nearly missed his train; Rose pulled, a porter pushed behind, and he stumbled in just in time; the bottle dropped on the floor, rolled under the seat, and Brack created a diversion among the passengers by diving for it. He generously passed it round, but no one partook of his hospitality. It was a relief to Rose when he went to It was with evident relief that Rose saw him go to bed. When Brack disappeared he related his misfortunes to his host, who sympathized with him to his face and laughed behind his back: he considered Brack the better man of the two. At breakfast Rose explained what Doncaster was like in Leger week, until Brack, with his mouth crammed with ham, and half a poached egg, spurted out, "You're wastin' yer breath. I've been to see t'Leger many a time." "Have you? I thought this was your first visit." "And me a Yorkshireman—go on!" said Brack. They drove to the course in the landlord's trap, arriving in good time. "I suppose you have not been in the paddock before?" said Rose patronizingly. "No; I've been over yonder most times," and he waved toward the crowd on the moor. "Follow me and I will conduct you." Brack laughed. "You're a rum cove, you are. What do you do when you're at home?" "I am Mr. Woodridge's general manager," said Rose loftily. "You don't say so! Now I should have thought "You are no judge of men," said Rose. "I'd never mistake you for one," growled Brack. When they were in the paddock Rose was anxious to get rid of him, but he had his orders, and must wait until Mr. Woodridge saw them. Brack attracted attention; he was a strange bird in the midst of this gayly plumaged crowd, but he was quite at home, unaware he was a subject of observation. At last Picton Woodridge saw him and came up. "Well, Brack, I am glad you came," he said as he shook hands. "I hope Rose looked after you." "He did very well. He's not a jovial mate, a trifle stuck up and so on, gives himself airs; expect he's considered a decent sort in his own circle—in the servants' hall," said Brack. Picton caught sight of Rose's face and burst out laughing. "Speaks his mind, eh, Rose?" he said. "You may leave us." "He's a rum 'un," said Brack. "What is he?" "My butler; I thought I had better send him for you in case you were undecided whether to come. I am glad you are here; and, Brack, I have a caution to give you. No one knows my brother, he "I'll be dumb, never fear," said Brack. "I thank you for giving me this treat; it's a long time since I saw t'Leger run. Your man tells me Tearaway will win." "I feel certain of it. You had better put a little on her at twenty to one," said Picton. "I will, and thank you. It was kind to give me ten pounds." "You deserve it, and you shall have more, Brack. If my filly wins to-day you shall have a hundred pounds and a new boat." "Good Lord!" exclaimed Brack. "A hundred pounds! It's as much as I've saved all the time I've been in Torquay—and a new boat, it's too much, far too much." "No, it isn't. Remember what you risked for us." "That's him, isn't it?" said Brack, pointing to Hector, who had his back to them. "I recognize his build." "I'm glad no one else has," said Picton. "Yes, that's he." Hector, turning round, saw Brack, came up, and spoke to him. Picton said: "This is Mr. Rolfe, William Rolfe, you understand?" Brack nodded as he said: "He's changed. I'd hardly have known his face." It was before the second race that Hector met Lenise Elroy in the paddock with her friends. She was not present on the first day and, strange to say, he missed her society. It startled him to recognize this. Surely he was not falling into her toils, coming under her spell, for the second time, and after all he had suffered through her! Of course not; it was because of the revenge burning in him that he was disappointed. How beautiful she was, and how gracefully she walked across the paddock; she was perfectly dressed, expensively, but in good taste. She was recognized by many people, some of whom knew her past, and looked askance at her. Hector went toward her. She saw him and a bright smile of welcome lit up her face. "I am so glad to see you," she said. They walked away together, after she had introduced him to one or two of her friends. Brack saw them and muttered to himself: "That's the lady was making inquiries about him at Torquay, and she doesn't know who he is; she can't. Wonder what her game is, and his? She knows Hackler too. There may be danger. I'd best give him a hint if I get a chance." "What will win the St. Leger, Mr. Rolfe?" she asked. "Ripon, I suppose; that is your tip," he said. "Yes, they are very confident. His owner is one of our party; we are all on it. Have you backed anything?" "I have a modest investment on Tearaway; I am staying at Haverton with Mr. Woodridge," he said. "You appear to have faith in the filly." "Oh, it's only a fancy; she may not be as good as they think," he said. Picton saw them together. He was surprised, startled; he thought of Hector's remark about keeping his eyes open. He recognized Mrs. Elroy, although he had not seen her for several years. What a terrible risk Hector ran! Was it possible she did not recognize him, that she really thought he was William Rolfe? It seemed incredible after all that had happened. Was she deceiving Hector as he was her? Picton remembered his brother had spoken about a plan, and revenge. What was his intention? If Mrs. Elroy did not know he was Hector Woodridge, then indeed his brother had a weapon in his hands which might help him to awful vengeance; the mere possibility of what might happen made Picton shudder. Hector had suffered terribly, but was it sufficient to condone a revenge, the consequences of which no one could foresee? They appeared quite happy together. Had his "Yes; do you know him?" "No." "Would you care to be introduced?" "As you please," she replied; she was thankful when Picton went away with Sir Robert, and the introduction was avoided. "There will be an opportunity later on," said Hector. "When are you returning to town?" "After the races, on Saturday." "From Doncaster?" "Yes." "What train do you travel by?" She named a train in the afternoon. "May I have the pleasure of your company?" he asked. "I shall be delighted if you wish it." "I do," he said. "Nothing will give me greater pleasure." "Then I shall expect you," she said, with a glance he knew well, as she rejoined her friends. Undoubtedly Lenise Elroy was one of the most attractive women at the races; there was just that Sir Robert Raines, when he saw her, said to Picton: "I wonder she dare show her face here in Yorkshire; some women have no shame in them." "She is a wicked woman, Bob; she ought to be in prison instead of poor Hector. I believed at the trial she shot Elroy, and I always shall," said his wife. "Who is that beautiful woman who was talking to Mr. Rolfe?" asked Rita. "She is Mrs. Elroy," said Picton. Rita knew nothing about Hector's troubles; she was young at the time of the trial. Something in his manner of speaking caused her to ask: "You do not like her?" "No; she is a woman with a past, a very bad past, but she faces it out, and is recognized by some people. I should not like you to know her," he said. "Men are very unmerciful to a woman who errs," she said. "If you knew as much about her as I, you would agree with me that she ought to be treated as an outcast; she is not fit to be in the company of respectable people," he said bitterly. This was so unlike Picton that she felt he must have strong grounds for what he said. Her curiosity was aroused; Mr. Rolfe might enlighten her. "Let us go and see Tearaway," she said, and at the mention of his favorite's name Picton's face cleared, the shadows flitted away, he was himself again. Brant Blackett came up hastily, a troubled look on his face. "What's the matter?" asked Picton anxiously. "Erickson's been taken suddenly ill," he said. "I'm afraid he'll not be able to ride." |
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