Читать книгу A Royal Wrong - Fred M. White - Страница 7

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Stanford was a house where Lady Letty had spent some of her happiest days. It had mattered nothing to her that it was a wild, desolate, tumbledown old place, by no means healthy, but picturesque to a degree. It had been the cradle of her race, for here, five hundred years ago, the Stanboroughs had started on a career that covered the wild and adventurous all over the world. It still preserved its castle-like aspect; the stone walls had resisted the assaults of time, and part of the old moat remained. Up to some five years ago the draw-bridge had been intact. The present head of the family had disposed of everything of value, and the Jews who had a claim on the estate had taken away pictures and china and rare pieces of tapestry.

The place was not wholly stripped of furniture, but there were no servants to look after the house, save an old gamekeeper and his wife, who acted as caretakers. They were almost as grim and silent as the house itself; they had been born and bred on the estate, and still regarded the Stanboroughs as the foremost family in the kingdom. They were alone, received no wages, and John Beaton shot game and caught fish for the pot as his ancestors had done.

Beaton was pottering round the house locking up. He need not have troubled; no burglars would ever have given Stanford a second thought.

He passed along the old stone-flagged corridors with a flaring candle in his hand. He thought he heard a noise outside. Somebody was knocking mysteriously on the hall door. With a thick stick in his knotted old hand, Beaton opened the portal. A man stood there muffled to the eyes in a great-coat, and a slouch hat was pulled over his brows.

"What do you want at this time of night?" Beaton, demanded surlily.

The intruder pushed forward and closed the door behind him. With the utmost ease he wrenched the stick from Beaton's hand and pinned him against the wall. Then a gay, careless laugh rang out and the hat fell from the stranger's head.

"Don't you know me, John?" he said. "Anybody here but you and Becky? That's all right. I've had a bit of a job to come, but I'm safe now."

Beaton's grim features relaxed, and something like a smile of affection dawned in his eyes.

"So it's you, Mr. Julian, my lord I mean! I—I never expected to see you again."

Lord Amsted smiled carelessly. There was a reckless look on his handsome face, which did not in the least suggest trouble. Nobody in these parts quite gathered what the scandal was. They were merely agreed that it had to do with a horse. The whole countryside was given up to sport, and so Amsted had everybody's sympathy. The young lord, as they called him, had got mixed up in some shady turf business and dared not show his face in England.

And yet here he was, reckless and daring as usual. He smote Beaton heavily on the back.

"Get a fire in one of the sitting-rooms," he said. "Give me a shakedown. I may stay for a day or two. Only nobody is to be told."

Beaton's face lightened. It was a clever man who wormed a secret out of him.

"You've no cause to be afraid about that, my lord," he said. "Becky and me'd do anything for you. But it's dangerous for you to be here. I don't know the facts of the case——"

"No, and you never will, John," Amsted said in his most casual fashion. "I've been a fool. Of course, I did wrong, but I never intended harm to anybody. I was more or less dragged into it. Now it has gone beyond the reach of the Jockey Club. If I could get at one man I might be able to put matters right. Meanwhile, I'm not safe anywhere in England."

"Then why have you come back, my lord?" Beaton asked bluntly.

"My good fellow, I had to come. If I hadn't, Mr. Middlemass would have lost a pile of money. He had got into the hands of the same gang. If his horse does not win at Calsham to-morrow he will be ruined. It's only a cross-country affair, but there is a heap of money on it. I've come over to ride the mare."

Beaton groaned. In his way he was fond of Amsted.

"What madness!" he said. "Half the county will be there! You'll be recognised, Mr. Julian. And the very people who are looking for you to—to——"

"Clap me into gaol, you were going to say. It's the very lot who hope to ruin Mr. Middlemass. Instead of which he is going to rook them. After he's done that he'll keep them at arm's length for the future. Nobody can ride the mare but me. She has a vile temper, but with me she's like a lamb. Nobody will know anything until I am in the saddle. I will take them all by surprise. It will be part of my revenge. A car will pick me up when the race is over, and before those rascals can move I shall be far away. I've thought it all out."

"It's the maddest thing I ever heard of."

"But the excitement of it, John!" Amsted's eyes dilated. "Think of the glorious fun. Think of their losing all their money when they expected to make a fortune! I should like to see the face of the blackguard who does me the honour of wishing to be my brother-in-law. I suppose you have heard that Lady Letty is going to be married?"

Beaton nodded. That information had reached Stanford.

"Some rich gentleman in the City of London, isn't it, my lord?"

Amsted's face grew black. The sunny, sanguine smile died from his eyes, and he wore the look of a hard and resolute man.

"A scoundrel!" he cried. "I cannot understand it at all. It is a great grief to me, John. I ought not to discuss family matters with a servant, but this business gnaws me to the heart. I could never stand the fellow. I always kept him at a distance. He belonged to one of my clubs. I heard him say that he was engaged to Lady Letty. When I gave him the lie, he was insolent, and I thrashed him there and then. But, by heavens! it was true all the time. I had actually to learn it from that fellow's lips! I was deeply sorry afterwards, for Lady Letty's sake. But it is ever the way of a Stanborough to strike first and ask questions afterwards. Lady Letty says nothing; she refuses to explain. She has given her word and there is an end to it. But the very man who is marrying into our family is going out of his way to ruin me. He laid the trap and I walked into it. But I mean to take it fighting, old boy, and that is why I am here to-night."

Beaton shook his head doubtfully. But there was a certain admiration in his eyes. For pluck and courage there was nobody like a Stanborough.

"What does her young ladyship say about it all?" he asked.

"She doesn't know," Amsted replied. "And nobody is aware of my marriage, either, except Lady Letty and yourself. You are a discreet witness, John, and Lady Amsted is with her own people at Amsted Park for the moment."

"And she does not know that you are here, my lord?"

"I haven't seen her," Amsted repeated. "I did not tell her what I was going to do. Although she is only twenty miles away, she is entirely ignorant that I am in England again. I hope she won't go to the meeting to-morrow. Yet I must see her, John, and you must help me. We were only such a short time together and parted in this way! I am going to settle down—I promised her I would settle down after that last affair and I meant it, on my honour. I was planning to take a place farther south and start a training establishment, and then, and then——"

Amsted turned his head away, and Beaton saw that his shoulders were heaving. Presently the mood passed and the young man was himself again.

"Get me something to eat," he said. "I don't care what it is. I daresay you can find a bottle of wine, unless those confounded Jews took everything. I don't care where I sleep so long as the bed is comfortable."

John went off shaking his head. He was still anxious and doubtful the following morning, as he saw his young master step into a motor at the gates and drive off to Calsham. For the time, however, the motor coat and goggles made a fine disguise.

Tom Middlemass was sitting moodily over his breakfast when Amsted arrived. He was deriving very little consolation from his betting book. Those scoundrels had certainly got the better of him. Now the jockey upon whom he had staked everything had failed him. The boy pleaded that he had hurt his head, but Middlemass knew pretty well that the lad had been bribed not to ride. He was debating the point in his mind when Amsted arrived.

"Great Scott!" he gasped. "What is the meaning of this, Amsted? I am glad to see you, my dear old fellow, but in the circumstances——"

"A fig for the circumstances," Amsted cried gaily. "The danger adds spice to the adventure. Ronald wrote to me and told me everything. He warned you that young Hodgkiss would throw you over at the last moment. He told you so, but you would not believe him. Of course if Hodgkiss is still going to ride——"

"But he isn't," the other cried. "Ronald was quite right. But in any case you can't——"

"Can't I," Amsted said grimly. "My dear chap, that is why I am here! You will win a fortune instead of losing one, and I shall share the plunder. It will be a thunderbolt for them. They will know nothing about it till I steer the mare past the post. Before they recover from their surprise I shall be miles away in Ronald's car. Now don't say another word; I will do the thing whether you like it or not."

Middlemass protested feebly. He was only human after all, and his future depended upon the coming race. The temptation to win could not be resisted.

"Very well," he said weakly. "You shall ride; but, if any evil comes to you, I shall never look Lady Amsted in the face."

Amsted reached out his hand gently for the coffee-pot.

"That's settled," he said. "Now give me some breakfast. I shall live to see Stephen Du Cros in the dock yet. Here's confusion to him and all the rest of them!"