The Hundredth Chance
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The visitor was standing under a lamp, a slim young man with a dark, keen face that broke into a smile at Jake's approach. He moved to meet him, speaking in a voice that betrayed his nationality at the first word.
"I am very pleased to meet you again, sir, though no doubt you have forgotten me."
They shook hands. Jake was looking at him with steady eyes. "No," he said, in his slow way, "I think you are the sort of man that doesn't get forgotten very easily."
Rafford laughed. He had an easy, well-bred laugh. "Capper doesn't believe in me," he said. "He declares I'll never get there. P'raps he's right. It doesn't concern me very much either way. Anyway, I've given up sending sick people to sleep for the present. I'm out on my own this journey. How is your young brother-in-law? Cure complete?"
"Absolutely." Jake was still looking at him hard. "If it's not a rude question," he said deliberately, "is that what brought you?"
The American met his look with a flicker of the eyes that betrayed a hint of wariness. "It's not a rude question, Mr. Bolton," he said. "And it is not what brought me. I'm after art treasures at the present moment. To be particular, I'm after Saltash's wonder in marble, The Fallen Woman. We did a deal over that marble, he and I, in New York the other day. He was showing me a card-trick, and-I-spotted-the knave."
Rafford suddenly drawled, and Jake's eyes grew brighter.
"Come inside!" he said.
But Rafford shook his head. "No, not right away if you don't mind. There's a little light left. Will you show me the animals?"
Jake's right hand clenched on his whip. "Have you done a deal over them too?" he said, sinking his voice very low.
"No. But I've got an idea," Rafford said. "I'll tell you what it is presently. You've got some valuable stock here, I'm told. Say, Mr. Bolton, you don't object to showing me round?"
His smile was disarming. Jake swung round on his heel without another word.
They went from stable to stable, inspecting one after another of Jake's treasures, Jake himself reciting the record of each. He began the tour almost in silence, speaking only words of bare necessity, but in some magnetic fashion Rafford broke through his reserve. His quiet enthusiasm reached and fired Jake. Gradually the glow kindled, the bitterness passed from him, he became himself in his own element, he opened his heart to the stranger because it seemed that he understood.
It was a long inspection, and darkness was upon them before it ended. They came last of all to the home of The Hundredth Chance, and here with his favourite's nose tucked confidingly into his arm Jake told his hopes, his dreams.
Rafford listened with a sympathy that was scarcely perceptible in his speech yet of which Jake was very strongly aware, or he had not so expanded. Later he marvelled himself at his own candour, but at the time it seemed wholly natural, even inevitable. By that mysterious force which makes men know each other as comrades even from afar, he recognized in Rafford the one quality that his soul demanded. Circumstance had flung them together for an hour, circumstance would part them again, but for that hour the bond of sympathy between them was complete.
In the end he remembered again the coming loss, the crushing failure of all his plans, and the bitterness came down upon him afresh, an overwhelming burden forcing him down. He fondled the colt, and with a gentle hand closed the door upon him. "Yes," he said heavily, "given fair treatment he'll turn out a winner, but I shan't be here to see it."
"What's come to Saltash?" Rafford questioned. "He seems ready to throw up everything."
"Yes, that's him," Jake said. "But then he hasn't had the working up of the Stud as I have. It's nothing to him to part with the animals. They were no more than a pastime."
"And not always a creditable pastime at that?" suggested Rafford. "I guess you're too straight for him, Mr. Bolton. He's a crooked devil-but a curiously likable one." He smiled as if at some reminiscence. "Well, what's your opinion? Do you think he could be persuaded to sell this show privately if he got a good offer?"
Jake's reserve came down upon him like a mask. "I can't say. You'd better go to his agent, Bishop."
Rafford was still faintly smiling. "I've just come from him. He practically sent me to you. I've just paid him Saltash's price for the statue. She will be on her way to America with me in a fortnight. But I'd like to bring off this deal before we go."
"It doesn't rest with me," Jake said, doggedness in every line.
"No, I know. But I'd like to feel that I've got you behind me. My patron would like to know that."
"Who is your patron?" Jake asked.
"His name is Ruse. You mayn't have heard of him, but he's quite well known in a good many circles-specially on our side. He has taken a fancy for horse-racing and he will probably drop a lot of money over it before he's done; that is, unless he's lucky enough to retain you for his trainer."
A hot gleam suddenly kindled in Jake's eyes, and as suddenly died. "I reckon that won't be possible," he said, "Lord Saltash will see to that."
"Saltash may not be able to prevent it," Rafford observed quietly. "Ruse will want a trainer, and when I tell him how your heart's in the job, it wouldn't surprise me if he persuaded you to keep it on. You wouldn't be very hard to persuade, I take it?"
Jake hesitated momentarily, then passed the question by. "Is your friend in England?" he asked.
"He will be in England very soon after the deal is completed-if it is completed," Rafford answered.
"Won't he want to see the Stud first?" Jake's voice was quietly business-like. He seemed to have put all personal considerations away.
"I doubt it." Rafford said. "The value of the Stud is well-known, and-to let you into a secret-he is mad keen on securing it. You won't tell Saltash that of course, or Bishop, who, I understand, is empowered to act on his behalf. But I think Saltash will get his price without much haggling. My patron is particularly anxious to prevent the Stud coming on the market. He is prepared to offer something better than a market price to make sure of it."
"He must be a very remarkable man," observed Jake.
"He is, sir; a very remarkable man, a man who never misses his opportunities. And in consequence he is on the whole very seldom a loser. It would be a great mistake to let him slip through your fingers-a very great mistake."
Rafford spoke with earnestness. His dark face was alight with eagerness.
Jake looked at him, faintly smiling. "You have an interest at stake?" he suggested.
"Only the interest that makes me want to push a thing to success. I have full powers though." Rafford's face reflected his smile. "When my patron got news of this thing, shall I tell you what he said to me? Just 'Clinch!' I shall go to Bishop to-morrow, and carry oat those instructions, if I can, to the letter."
"You won't do it in a day," Jake said. "Maybe you'd like to put up at my place pending negotiations."
Rafford's hand came out to him with impulsive friendliness. "No, sir. You're more than kind, but I won't do that. I've seen the animate and I've seen you. That's enough. You and I mustn't get too intimate over this deal. You know what Saltash is. When we've pulled it off, I'll be delighted-if there's still time." He gripped Jake's hand hard, looking him straight in the face. "You've given me a real happy hour, Mr. Bolton," he said. "And I shan't forget it. It was mighty generous of you, considering you regarded me as the first of the vultures. Well, I hope I shall be the last. So long!"
"So long!" Jake said. "I hope you will."
He accompanied the young man to the gate, and watched him go.
Then squarely he came back again, walked straight up the middle of the yard, looking neither to right nor left, went into his own house, and shut the door.
Late that night when Maud rose to go upstairs, he came out of what had apparently been a heavy doze before the fire and spoke for the first time of his own affairs.
"Bunny told you some time ago that the Stud was to be sold, I believe?" he said.
Maud stood still on the hearth, looking down at him. The question evidently startled her, for her breath came suddenly faster. "Yes, he told me," she said.
"Why didn't you tell me you knew?" said Jake. And then he saw that his abruptness had agitated her and leaned forward to take her hand.
She suffered him to take it, but she was trembling from head to foot. "I didn't think-you wished me to know," she said.
He bent his head slightly so that only the shining copper of his hair met her look. "It wasn't-that," he said slowly. "At least not at first. Just at first I didn't want to bother you. Afterwards, – well, I guess I'm an independent sort of cuss and I was afraid you'd want to finance me when you knew I was to be kicked out."
"I did want to, Jake," she said quickly.
He nodded. "I know. I was mighty ungracious over it. I've been sorry since."
"Jake!" She stooped a little, a quick dawning of hope in her pale face; but he kept his head bent.
"No," he said. "The answer is still No. I don't want to hurt your feelings any, but I can't live on any one's charity. If there's anything under the sun that I can do to serve you, I'll do it. But I can't do the pet-dog business. For one thing I'm not ornamental enough. And for another, it ain't my nature."
He paused a moment, but Maud made no attempt to speak. Only the hope had all died out of her face, and she looked unutterably tired.
Jake went on. "Just when your uncle died, you were feeling extra lonely, and-" his voice sank a little-"you turned to me for comfort. But I didn't flatter myself that I had become permanently necessary to you. I knew you never intended me to think that. I saw it directly we met again. You fancied yourself under an obligation to me. You were willing-because of that-to give me anything I wanted. But it's come to this. What I really want is not in your power to give, and I can't accept less. For that reason, I've got to live in my own house, not in yours. I don't want you to feel bound to live with me, I know my setting never was good enough for you either. You can come to me just sometimes, and I shall be honoured to receive you. But I'd like you to know that you are absolutely free to come or go. I'm not insisting on my rights, just because I've learnt that it doesn't make for happiness on either side."
Again he paused, but still she did not speak.
Quietly he resumed. "That brings me to what I set out to tell you about the Stud. There is a chance-I think it's a good one-that it may be kept together after all. There is also a chance-a less promising one-that I may be retained as trainer. If I am offered the post, I shall accept it. If I am not offered the post, well, I shall have to start again at the beginning. I shall have to rough it. So if that happens, you will have to go your way and I mine."
He ceased to speak, and his hand relinquished hers.
Maud stood up. She was no longer trembling, but she was very pale.
"I hope you will get the post," she said, after a moment. "You-I think you would feel it if you had to part with the horses. They mean-so much to you."
"I belong to 'em," Jake said simply.
She smiled a little with lips that quivered. "Then I hope you will have them always," she said. "Good night-and thank you for being so-explicit." She looked at his bent head, stretched a hand above it almost as if she would touch it, then drew it swiftly back and turned to go.
A few seconds later she was ascending the stairs, still piteously smiling, with the tears running down her face.
CHAPTER XXIX
THE DUTIFUL WIFE
"Well, my dearie, this is the biggest treat I've had for I don't know how long. Sit you down and tell me all your news! Is it true, what my Tom tells me, as you've come into a pot of money? Well, there now, I am pleased! Put your feet on the fender, my dear! There's a cruel wind blowing to-day. We'll have some hot buttered toast for tea."
"I hope you're not busy, Mrs. Wright." Maud clasped the round, dumpy form very closely for a minute.
"Lor' no, my dear; not a bit. It's early closing to-day. Fancy your thinking of that now! And fancy your coming to see me of all people! Why, I feel just as if a princess had stepped out of a fairy-tale."
"I don't feel a bit like a princess," Maud said.
She sat down before the cheery little fire in Mrs. Wright's back parlour and stretched out her hands to the blaze.
The old woman hovered over her tenderly. "You look like one, my dear," she said. "I think it's just wonderful that you should condescend to be friendly with the likes of me."
"Oh, Mrs. Wright, don't-please-put it like that!" Maud leaned quickly back, turning up a face of flushed protest. "I don't like that aspect of myself at all," she said. "I don't think I am that sort of person indeed."
"I always think of you as Jake's princess, dear," Mrs. Wright maintained. "I don't see why it should distress you. I like to think of you so."
Maud laughed a little. "I wish you wouldn't. And I wish Jake wouldn't either. Perhaps once I was foolish and proud, but really I have got over that now. I am very humble, nowadays."
"Are you happy, dearie? That's the great thing," said Mrs. Wright.
Maud stooped again over the fire. "I'm-trying to be," she said. "I don't succeed perhaps all the time. But-" She stopped. "Don't let us talk about my affairs till I have heard all yours!" she said. "How is Tom? When is he going to be married?"
It was the signal for Mrs. Wright to plunge into personal gossip, and she did so with zest. But she kept a motherly eye upon her visitor notwithstanding, missing no detail of her appearance and general demeanour. There was plenty to be said, Mrs. Wright was always voluble, but she was not a selfish talker. She did not monopolize the conversation, and she never lost sight of her listener.
Maud's sympathy was quite unfeigned. She liked to hear about Mrs. Wright's various interests, and there was a genial warmth in the atmosphere that did her good.
"Let me come into the kitchen with you and help you make the toast!" she begged at length.
And after a brief demur, Mrs. Wright consented. Tom was out and there would be no one to disturb them. She would not have dreamed of permitting Tom to sit down in the kitchen with Jake's princess.
So to the kitchen they went, and finding it cosier than the parlour, decided to remain there to partake of the meal they had prepared, Mrs. Wright, albeit sorely against her will occupying the wooden armchair of state, while Maud sat close to her knees on the fender.
"You're looking very thin, dear," Mrs. Wright checked her chatter to observe, as she put down her final cup of tea.
"It's my nature to be thin," Maud said.
Mrs. Wright permitted herself a more critical survey. "I wonder what Jake thinks," she said. "I shouldn't feel happy about you if I were Jake."
Maud smiled faintly into the fire and said nothing.
Mrs. Wright's plump hand stole down to her shoulder. "I hope as he's being good to you, dearie," she murmured.
Maud leaned back against her knee. "He is trying to be," she said. "You know that the Stud has been sold?"
"It really has?" said Mrs. Wright.
"Yes, it really has. The animals were to have been sent to Tattersall's, but a man we know-an American-came at the very beginning of the year and made an offer on behalf of a friend of his that Lord Saltash's agent thought too good to refuse. He has gone back to America now, and no doubt his principal will make his appearance soon. The idea is to build new Stables nearer to Graydown. Jake is negotiating about some land there. It's such a pretty part, and there will have to be a house for him too. We shall probably be allowed to stay on at the Burchester Stables till it is all ready. Jake is hoping that it may all be done in a year, I think," she smiled again with a hint of wistfulness. "I think Jake is going to enjoy himself."
"And you, dearie?" whispered Mrs. Wright, tenderly persistent.
Maud reached up a hand to clasp hers. "I have been lost in the desert for a long, long time, dear Mrs. Wright," she said. "But I am just beginning to find myself."
Mrs. Wright stooped impulsively and carried the soft hand to her lips. "May it please the dear Lord to guide you, dear!" she said.
"He is guiding me," Maud said with simplicity. "But I've some way to travel yet before I reach my goal. And-it's very sandy travelling sometimes, Mother Wright." She lifted her face with its sweet quivering smile. "And there are stones too, sometimes," she said. "But-I'd like you to know that I've passed the worst. I've left off yearning for-for-the mirage. It doesn't draw me any more-at all. I've left it all behind me, – like an evil dream and I can never, never, never be deceived by it again."
"My darling!" murmured Mrs. Wright very tenderly. "My darling!"
Maud suddenly clung to her closely. "I'm beginning to find out," she whispered tremulously, "that the thing I took for a rank weed growing beside my path is the one flower I have always wanted in my garden. I've tried for ever so long to uproot it, but now-but now-I'm trying to make it grow. I want it-but this is a secret! – more than anything else on earth."
Mrs. Wright's own eyes were full of tears. "I am sure you will have it, darling," she said. "I am sure-quite sure-your want will be satisfied."
She kissed the quivering face on her bosom and fondled the soft dark hair. They remained so for a space not speaking; then very gently Maud withdrew herself.
"Did I tell you that Bunny is allowed to play hockey this term? It is horribly dangerous-I went up to watch it last Saturday-but he enjoys it tremendously; and they say it will do him good. He is growing fast, getting quite a man."
"I am very pleased to hear it," Mrs. Wright said warmly. "Dearie me, just to think of the poor little weakly thing he was a year ago! Do you remember that day I first looked in on you, and how you gave me them violets? I've never forgotten it."
Maud flushed a little. "You were so good to me, and I had been so ungracious. I wonder you ever forgave me."
"What rubbish, dear! What rubbish!" softly interpolated Mrs. Wright. "I loved you from the first moment I set eyes on you that night at Giles Sheppard's. And that reminds me. How is your mother doing now?"
"She is living in London," Maud said. "I believe Giles Sheppard went to Canada. She doesn't seem to trouble about him, but has settled down quite happily in a boarding-house in Bayswater. I invested some of Uncle Edward's money in an annuity for her. It seemed the best plan."
"I am so glad you have got that money, dear," said Mrs. Wright simply.
"Thank you," Maud said. "But-you know-I could have been quite happy without it. At least I think I could. We should have had to emigrate. And I-" she smiled momentarily, "I suppose I should have been a cow-puncher's wife in earnest."
"You wouldn't have liked that," said Mrs. Wright with conviction.
"Shouldn't I? I wonder. I am beginning to think that external circumstances haven't much to do with happiness." Maud spoke thoughtfully. "Still-now I am used to the idea-I am glad to have the money. Uncle Edward left all his affairs in such perfect order that they will probably be wound up very soon now. Mr. Craven, the solicitor, said it was one of the simplest matters he had ever had to deal with, which is all the better for me. He is in a position to raise almost any amount for me even now." Maud was smiling again, that faint, half-wistful smile that had become hers. "It will be useful when it comes to furnishing the new house, won't it?" she said.
"My dear, you will just love that," said Mrs. Wright. "And what does Jake say to it all? Isn't he pleased to know as you and little Sir Bernard are provided for as befits your rank and station?"
Maud's smile became a laugh. "Dear Mother Wright, you are incorrigible!" she declared. "No, Jake is not over and above pleased. I think he has a lurking fear that I want to take him away from his horses and make him lead a life of elegant idleness. He doesn't guess how thankful I was to know that he would not have to give them up after all. For he loves his animals as he loves nothing else on earth."
"Oh, tut, tut, dearie!" remonstrated Mrs. Wright. "And it really is settled for him to keep on in his present position?"
"Practically settled. He says he must wait and see his boss before he regards it as a sure thing. Meantime, he is carrying out Mr. Rafford's instructions as far as possible. He has gone over to Graydown to-day about the building-site for the new stables. I hope he will secure it. It is on a southern slope. It would be splendid for the animals."
"Why, you are getting quite enthusiastic!" said Mrs. Wright, with a chuckle.
"I believe I am," Maud admitted. "I never thought so much of them till it seemed that we were going to lose them. I think it would almost have broken Jake's heart."
"He don't keep his heart in the stables," said Mrs. Wright wisely, "nor yet in the training-field. What, my dear, you're not thinking of going yet? Why, it's quite early!"
"Yes, I ought to be going," Maud said. "I like to be in first, to give him his tea and so on. He is much too polite to say so, but I fancy he likes it."
"Of course he likes it, dear. And I think he's a very, very lucky man." Mrs. Wright spoke with great emphasis.
Maud was on her feet. She looked down at her half-laughing. "Oh, do you? I wonder why."
"To have such a dutiful wife, dear," said Mrs. Wright. "I hope you're not going to spoil him, now. It would be a pity to do that."
Maud uttered a funny little sigh. "Oh no, I shan't spoil him. He is most careful not to take anything for granted. In fact, I sometimes wonder-" She paused.
"What, darling?" Mrs. Wright looked up at her with loving admiration.
Maud's face was flushed. "Oh, nothing very much. I was only going to say that I sometimes wonder if he has any real use for the dutiful wife after all. I try to please him, but all he seems really to want me to do is to please myself."
Mrs. Wright rose up in her own resilient fashion. "Oh, there now! How like a man!" she said. "They're as cussed as mules, my dear. But never you mind! You'll catch him off his guard one of these days if you keep on. And then'll be your time. You step in and take possession before he can turn round and stop you. It's only a question of patience, dear. It'll come. It'll come."
Maud smiled again as she bent to kiss her. "You're such a good friend to me," she said. "I'll be sure to take your advice-if I can."
"God bless you, my darling!" said Mrs. Wright, with great fervour.
CHAPTER XXX
THE LANE OF FIRE
An icy wind was blowing as Maud climbed the steep road by the church. It whirled down on her with a fierceness that made quick progress out of the question. Nevertheless, she fought valiantly against it, fearing that Jake would have returned before her.
It was not dark. The tearing wind had chased all clouds from the sky, and the daylight still lingered. Ahead of her the North Star hung like a beacon, marvellously bright. There was a smell of smoke in the air that seemed to accentuate the bitter coldness.
The church clock struck six as she passed it, and she sought to quicken her steps, she did not want Jake to come in search of her. For some reason she did not greatly want to tell him how she had been spending the afternoon.
Round the bend of the road the wind caught her mercilessly. She had to battle against it with all her might to make any progress at all. It was while she was struggling round this bend that there suddenly came to her the sound of galloping hoofs and a man's voice wildly shouting. She drew to one side, and stood against the hedge; and in a moment a horseman dashed into view and thundered past her. He was lying forward on the animal's neck, urging him like a jockey.
He was gone like a whirlwind into the dusk, and Maud was left with a throbbing heart that seemed to have been touched by a hand that was icy-cold. She was nearly sure that the animal had come from the Stables and that the man was Sam Vickers. He was not a furious rider as a rule. What had induced him to ride like that to-night? Something was wrong-something was wrong! The certainty of it stabbed her like a knife. What could it be? What? What? Had Jake met with an accident? Was Sam tearing thus madly down to Fairharbour to find the doctor?