It was now the second week of September. Kitty Thornton was staying at Buckhurst House, near Selby, in Yorkshire, not many miles from Doncaster, with her relative, Mrs. Joicey, a widow lady.

The girl, though she felt as if her heart was broken and there never could be any happiness in the world for her again, still adhered firmly to her determination to do what she considered her duty. Since she had come to Yorkshire she had heard but once from the Eversleighs. The message came in a short note from Gilbert, which ran—

"My father has told me all. God bless you and keep you."

The words were brief, but Kitty read into them a depth of meaning. She pictured to herself Gilbert writing this letter in much the same spirit of renunciation of joy and acceptance of inevitable evil, as had inspired her own action. And again she told herself, as she had had to tell herself very often, that in life there were higher things than love. But she treasured up Gilbert's words and even the piece of paper on which they were written.

Meanwhile she had another interview with Bennet, who, following the round of the races, as usual, had gone down to Yorkshire for the great Doncaster September meeting, in which his horse, Go Nap, was expected to cut no small figure.

Although Bennet had not been able to get the ten thousand pounds from Francis Eversleigh which he had asked him for, he yet had experienced very little difficulty in obtaining all the funds he wanted for his purposes. More than once before this time he had had recourse to a certain Jew, Joel Levy by name, for loans, which Bennet had always heretofore repaid punctiliously; he was therefore in excellent credit with this money-lender.

When Bennet told Levy he was engaged to marry Kitty Thornton, the daughter of Thornton, the Missing Millionaire, whose remarkable story was known to everybody, Levy offered no objection when he was asked for a fresh loan. He merely inquired when the marriage was to take place, and was satisfied on hearing it was arranged for an early date—as soon, in fact, as the lady's mourning for her father would decently permit.

Levy congratulated Bennet on his good fortune, wished him equal luck in his racing, and, having obtained his signature to bills carrying interest at fifty per cent., wrote out a cheque.

Thereafter Bennet liquidated his most pressing liabilities, and with the balance, still a considerable sum, set off in high spirits for Yorkshire.

But before going north he had seen Francis Eversleigh, been told the exact sum for which Beauclerk Mansions had been sold by Silwood, and had had prepared a discharge to the firm for the same. This he took with him unsigned, and when he presented himself at Buckhurst House, and asked for Miss Thornton, he had the document in his pocket.

He had made a bargain with the girl for it, and his pulses beat fiercely as he thought he would at last hold her in his arms and embrace her. He knew well enough that her response was likely to be of the coldest, but assured himself that from the moment he touched her lips, he should begin to dominate and bend her to his will.

Kitty received him much more graciously than he expected, but this was merely because she felt that, with a man of Bennet's character and disposition, the Eversleighs would not be safe until her sacrifice was complete. She was afraid, too, that in some way she might be tricked by him.

When he handed her the document which was to cancel the obligations of Eversleigh's firm, he was careful to tell her it had been drawn up by Francis Eversleigh himself, who had also sent with it a covering letter, expressing its effect in formal terms.

"I think," said he to her, "I have done exactly what you would have wished me to do. Nothing remains now except for me to sign it and transfer it to you."

Kitty nodded gravely, and brought him pen and ink, that he might affix his signature to the discharge.

He signed his name with a flourish.

"I would do a great deal more than this for you, Kitty," he cried, as, holding the paper in his hand, he advanced towards her.

Giving it to her, he said, eagerly, "You remember the bargain we made?"

"Yes," she replied, and unresistingly allowed him to take her in his arms. He clutched her to his breast in an almost savage embrace, while he showered kisses on her lips. Passively she submitted to his caresses, though she loathed them and him from the bottom of her soul. By a strong effort of will, she managed to control herself so as not to show the repulsion with which he filled her.

"And I have promised to marry this man!" she thought. "How shall I ever be able to live with him!"

As she gently disengaged herself from him, he saw that she was deathly white.

"Oh, Kitty!" he exclaimed. "If you would only love me!"

"Love was not in our compact," she said, with a tremor.

"You shall love me," he responded. "When we are married, you must love me."

But the girl said nothing.

Then he asked if she would not accompany him to the races. "You are sure to bring me luck," he cried.

Reminding him that she was still in the deepest of mourning, she declined, wondering how the man should be so unfeeling.

"For the moment I had forgotten," he returned, apologetically. "It was very thoughtless of me—pray forgive me; but wish me luck all the same, will you not, Kitty?"

Kitty, however, was hurt, and would give him no answer. Bennet regarded her for an instant or two, a heavy frown gathering on his face.

"You refuse to wish me luck!" he cried. "I do everything you ask me to do, and yet you won't wish me good luck! For your sake I have forgone my claim on the Eversleighs, and you haven't one good word for me! Kitty, I warn you not to cross me, not to make me angry. Thanks to you, the Eversleighs owe me no money—that is true, but remember that if I were to whisper in certain quarters what I know about the firm, its credit would not last very long."

"What! You would do such a thing!"

"It depends on you, Kitty, and on you alone. Be my friend—I know you cannot, perhaps, love me all at once, but be my friend; in our circumstances surely this is not much to ask from you."

"What would you have me do?"

"Wish me luck, Kitty—that's a very little thing!"

"I have always heard, Mr. Bennet," the girl said, looking at him steadily, "that this racing is your ruin."

"Oh, you preach, do you!" ejaculated Bennet, with a scowl, and, without another word, turned on his heel and left her, while Kitty bitterly asked herself if her sacrifice was to go for nothing.

An hour or two later, Bennet was at Doncaster, in close confabulation with Bob Deans, the jockey who was to ride Go Nap.

"You understand thoroughly?" inquired Bennet, as he was going back to his hotel.

"Yes, guv'nor, I understand perfectly," replied the jockey. "You can depend on me."

But Bob Deans made a face behind the other's back.

"He's a daisy," he said to himself, "that's what he is!"

The first day of the Doncaster September meeting passed by without special incident. Bennet had several bets on the different events, but at the end his book nearly balanced; it was a trifle against him.

"It will be all right to-morrow," he said to an acquaintance, with whom he was discussing the fortunes of the day. "I expect that Go Nap will pull me through handsomely."

"You believe he'll win?"

"I feel absolutely confident of it," said Bennet, with emphasis.

"You are not alone in that," remarked the other. "I noticed your horse is going up in the betting; it now stands at five to one against; a few days ago it was ten to one."

Bennet smiled; indeed, his face showed every sign of pleasure.

"You might do worse," said he, "than put a bit on him."

"Yes, I think I shall," responded the other; "it looks pretty good."

And to all whom he met Bennet spoke well of his horse, and took any small bets that were offered, but, contrary to his usual practice, he would not risk any large sum. And all the while, secretly, through agents he thought he could trust, he was laying heavily against Go Nap, until he stood to win £20,000 if the horse lost.

Bright sunshine, a cool breeze, and a perfect track combined to make the second day of the races peculiarly enjoyable to the devotees of the turf. The race in which Bennet's horse was to run was the third on the list. The fine appearance of the animal that morning as he went for a short gallop had gained for him many supporters, and an immense amount of money was forthcoming on him, with the result that he farther improved his position in the betting. When the flag fell, the price was only three to two against him.

To the huge delight of his backers, Go Nap won easily. Taking the lead from the start, he was never seriously challenged, and reached the post "with plenty to spare."

Bennet, who was watching the race from one of the stands, had followed his horse from start to finish with anxious eyes. He had given Bob Deans certain instructions, and he believed they would be obeyed implicitly by the jockey. Bennet saw the horse leading at the beginning. That was nothing, he said to himself, as Deans knew what to do, and was the best judge of when to do it. But as Go Nap sailed along steadily in front, apparently without effort, Bennet commenced to see the race as through a mist. When his horse won, and his friends were offering him their congratulations, he could scarcely speak for rage. His passion completely blinded him to the impolicy of his behaviour, and everything that was worst in the man came to the surface. Hardly noticing what was said to him, he rushed from the stand.

"He takes it queerly," said a bystander.

"His head's a bit turned, though that's perhaps not to be wondered at," said a second.

As for Bennet, he literally saw red.

"Deans has sold me!" was the savage cry in his heart.

Thrusting those aside who happened to be in his path, he made his way to the jockey, who saw him coming. Bob Deans viewed with alarm the fury and despair in Bennet's face, and turned to run away, but with two or three quick bounds Bennet was upon him.

Grasping the jockey by the shoulder, Bennet, who had utterly lost control of himself, and was wholly blind to consequences, shook him as a terrier shakes a rat. Bennet was a tall, athletic man, and the tiny figure of Bob Deans was as nothing to him.

Instantly several of those standing about tried to interfere and separate the two men.

But Bennet, who was now to all intents and purposes a madman, shook them off fiercely, without letting go his hold on Deans.

"Leave me alone," the jockey spluttered, "or I'll give you away! Let me go!"

"Let you go, you hound!" cried Bennet in a terrible voice, and, his face hideously distorted, he shouted, "By ——, I'll kill you!"

The onlookers again strove to pull the two men apart, and succeeded sufficiently for Bob Deans to cry so that every one heard him—

"He wished me to pull the horse; he offered me a big bribe, but I would do nothing crooked."

Bennet heard the words as well as the others.

Putting forth all his strength, and quite beside himself, he sprang forward with uplifted fist, and catching the unfortunate jockey a frightful blow under the chin, felled him to the ground.

Many now ran up to the group. Bob Deans was a popular jockey, and the victory of Go Nap had been popular. Soon there was a great crowd.

A short examination showed that Bob Deans was dead.