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CHAPTER XVII
THE SQUIRE OVERHEARS

The Saint's wonderful victory was the chief topic of conversation for the remainder of the afternoon, and it was discussed all over the course. It was acknowledged to have surpassed the Derby victory of Sandstone, and the merits of the pair were a fruitful source of conversation. Perhaps Warren Courtly had as much reason to rejoice as anyone over the Saint's win, for he had landed a large stake. He left the box and went into the ring, where he met several acquaintances, who congratulated him.

Felix Hoffman stood alone in the paddock, his face gloomy and desperate. He had been hard hit again, his bad luck stuck to him, and he had lost the hundred pounds he received from Irene. He had plunged on Vulture and lost, and cursed "the curiosity" for beating him.

The Squire and his companions went down to the paddock to see the winner, and congratulate Ben Sprig.

Warren was not with them, but he followed later on.

Ulick and Irene returned to the box, as she was anxious to sit down and rest after the excitement of the race.

The Squire stood talking with the trainer and Ben Sprig, and Warren Courtly was coming towards them when he encountered Felix Hoffman.

He tried to avoid him, but Felix was in a desperate plight, and meant to obtain assistance somehow.

"Had any luck?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Warren.

"I'm dead broke; lend me a tenner to try and get a bit back."

"Not a farthing," replied Warren, who moved on, but stopped when he found Felix Hoffman following him, and said, angrily —

"Go away, I will have nothing to do with you."

"You must help me; I have done a lot of dirty work for you."

Warren was losing his temper, and his eyes had an angry gleam in them.

"If you pester me I shall give you in charge; go away."

Still Felix held his ground, and said —

"I only ask for a trifle; it will pay you to give it me."

"Get out of my way or I will knock you down," was the reply.

The Squire, walking across the paddock talking to Ben Sprig, was so engrossed he failed to notice them.

"Knock me down, will you?" said Felix. "I'd like to see you do it. If you don't do as I ask, I'll go straight to your wife and tell her all about your dealings with Mrs. Warren. She's here; I saw her in the box with you."

Warren raised his hand and in another moment would have struck him, but the Squire heard the words, and held his arm back in time to prevent the blow.

"Who is this fellow?" asked the Squire.

"Felix Hoffman is my name, at your service."

"Do you know him?" he said to Warren.

"Oh, yes; he knows me very well," answered Felix.

"I did not address you," replied the Squire; and repeated his question.

Warren nodded as he said, "Unfortunately I do; he is a regular scoundrel."

"I am not as bad as you," was Felix's retort. "I haven't got one wife; you have two."

"What does the man mean?" asked the Squire.

"He's a fool, or worse; come away from him," said Warren, "or I shall do him an injury."

"I don't know who you are," said Felix, addressing the Squire; "but if you are his father-in-law I can tell you he is a bad lot. His wife, Mrs. Warren, lives with my mother, and that is the address; you can call and see for yourself," he said, as he handed him a card.

Warren snatched it out of his hand and tore it up.

"Give me another card," said the Squire, and Felix handed one to him, Warren not daring to interfere on this occasion.

They moved away from Felix Hoffman, and the Squire said —

"What is the meaning of this? Is there any truth in it?"

"He's a confounded liar," said Warren, angrily.

Felix Hoffman heard him, and said —

"I am not. If you want to learn the truth, ask his wife; she knows all about it."

Warren stepped up to him in fury, struck him a heavy blow on the mouth, and knocked him down.

Fortunately a race was being run at the time, and there were only a few people in the paddock. The Squire forced Warren away with him, and they left Felix sprawling on the grass.

"You ought not to have struck him," said the Squire.

"He deserved it."

"Was there any truth in what he said?"

"No, none whatever. It is true I have been to his house, and that a Mrs. Warren lives there, but I have nothing to do with her, you may rest assured of that."

"He said Irene knew all about it."

"Which is absurd, because there is nothing to know. That is the man who wrote the begging-letter Irene showed you, and you said the matter ought to be placed in the hands of the police."

"The scoundrel; he deserves all he got and more," said the Squire.

Warren was relieved at this change of front, and said —

"He once gave me a winner at Hurst Park, and he has pestered me for money ever since. He was asking me to lend him ten pounds just before you came up. It was because I refused he trumped up this story about Mrs. Warren. It is all a fabrication."

"I am glad to hear it," answered the Squire, not quite satisfied.

Warren went into the ring, and when the Squire entered the box Ulick left Irene in his charge.

"We have had rather an unpleasant scene in the paddock," said the Squire; "that fellow Hoffman, who wrote to you, insulted Warren, and he knocked him down. It served him right."

Irene turned pale and said, in an agitated voice —

"What did he say?"

"Told a pack of lies about Warren and some woman living at his house. I don't believe a word of it," said the Squire. "He gave me his address and told me to go and find out for myself. Here it is," and he handed her the card.

Irene was in desperate straits. He must be prevented from visiting Mrs. Hoffman's house at any cost.

"Of course, you will take no notice of it," she said.

"The fellow actually said you knew all about it, but I did not believe him. By gad, if I thought Warren had deceived you I would make things hot for him."

"He has not deceived me," she replied. "Please do me a favour; take no further notice of the matter."

"Warren snatched the first card he offered me out of his hand. Why did he do that?" asked the Squire.

"No doubt he thought it an insult for him to offer it to you," she replied.

"That may have been the reason. I hope so," he replied.

A feeling of depression seemed to have come over them, and Ulick, who had returned, said —

"I am afraid the excitement has been too much for you all. Shall we go home, there are only two more races?"

They readily agreed, with the exception of Warren, who said he would see it out and return after the last race.

This irritated the Squire, but he made no remark, and they left him to his own devices.

Warren immediately sent a telegram to Janet telling her to go away at once, as the Squire had her address.

Janet was surprised at this, but she wondered still more when another wire came from Irene to the same effect, and asking her to send an address to the Walton.

The Squire, however, had no intention of going to Feltham, and when he returned to Hazelwell Janet went back to Mrs. Hoffman's.

Warren Courtly felt he had better make a clean breast of it. He would tell Irene all, and trust to her generosity to forgive him.

A week after the races, when they had returned to Anselm Manor, Warren Courtly said to his wife —

"Irene, I have something to tell you: it is humiliating for me to have to confess that I have done wrong, and it will cause you pain to hear my story."

She knew what he was about to say, but thought it better to allow him to tell his own story. She was glad he made her his confidante, and confessed his fault. She felt she could almost forgive him. To love him was impossible, for her heart was not in her own keeping.

"You recollect when Janet Todd disappeared from home?"

"And Ulick Maynard was, and still is by many people, suspected of wronging her," she said.

"He did not wrong her, he is perfectly innocent. It was before I became on intimate terms with you that I was infatuated with Janet. She was pretty and attracted me, and gradually we drifted together, until we became more than mere friends. I persuaded her to leave home and go to London. She is there now, and I have never deserted her, or let her want for anything. When I knew you, Irene, and loved you, I severed all connection with Janet, and we have been almost strangers to each other ever since our marriage. Can you forgive me for what I have done? It would have been unpardonable had I continued to see Janet, but I have only done so when she requested more money than I thought necessary."

He felt relieved now he had told her, and waited for her reply.

"I have not much to forgive," she said. "It is Ulick Maynard who has been wronged. You must tell the Squire all."

"Never," he exclaimed.

"Then I shall be compelled to do so, to clear Ulick. That reparation you owe him, if not more," she said, firmly.

"I would not have told you had I thought you would act like this."

"It was needless; I knew all. I have seen Janet, and she has confessed everything to me," was Irene's reply.

He looked amazed. "You have seen her!" he exclaimed. "How did you find her out?"

"Felix Hoffman sent me her address, for a consideration."

"So you have been spying on me, playing the lady detective. I am much obliged to you, and am sorry I confessed my fault," he said, sneeringly.

"When you confessed I admired you for it; you are changing my opinion of you," she replied.

"I forbid you to tell the Squire. Perhaps you would like to confide in Ulick, you appear to be very good friends?"

"It would be useless, he already knows everything," she said, quietly.

Warren Courtly felt decidedly small, but he hardly believed her.

"He knows nothing," he said.

"He does, for he was in her house on one occasion when you called to see Janet. He heard her story, and for my sake forbade her to speak of it, or return home," she said.

"For your sake," he said, sarcastically. "Did he tell you this?"

"No; Ulick is far too honourable for that," she replied, hotly. "He is not mean or underhand. Janet gave me the information."

"Which, no doubt, you were glad to receive," he said.

"I was, for it proved there was at least one man in the world who thought me worthy of sacrifices on his part," she answered, bitterly.

"If he knows I took Janet away, why does he not tell his father?" asked Warren.

"He will never tell him."

"Because he loves you?" said Warren.

"And if he does?" she asked, proudly. "What then? Am I not worthy to be loved by a good man?"

"Do you return his love?" he asked, savagely.

"Yes," she said, calmly.

He laughed harshly, as he replied —

"Then you have no cause to complain of my conduct with Janet."

"You degrade yourself and me by speaking in that manner. You know that Ulick has no knowledge that I love him, or is aware that I know he loves me. I am your wife and will do my duty. You will have no cause to complain, all the wrong is on your side," she said.

"Tell the Squire if you like," he said. "Only remember, if you do I shall sell Anselm Manor and leave the country, and you will go with me. You are my wife, and must obey me."

"That is a threat you will never carry out," she said.

"I will; so you can think it over. There is another thing I wish to mention. If you inform the Squire, I will make matters very unpleasant for yourself and Ulick. I have ample grounds for suspicion."

She did not deign to answer him, but walked proudly out of the room.

"So he knows," thought Warren, moodily. "What a coward he must think me. I'll prove to him I am not one before this year is out, how or when I do not know, but I'll do it."

He went into the stable yard and mounted a horse that stood ready saddled.

Irene saw him ride away at a breakneck pace, and wondered where he was going. After all, he was her husband, and she felt anxious about him. She knew how he would feel about Ulick, and dreaded the consequences. She wished she had spoken more kindly to him, but he insulted her with his implied suspicions.

As the evening wore on, and he did not return, she became more and more uneasy.

It was after eleven when she heard the sound of horse's hoofs coming up the drive, and shortly after Warren entered the room.

"I am glad you have returned," she said, softly. "I was anxious about you. I spoke harshly to you, perhaps, but I was excited, and hardly knew what I said. If you wish I will not tell the Squire about Janet."

He was surprised at her words. His ride had done him good, the gallop across country had aroused him to a better frame of mind.

"I thought you would not care what became of me," he said. "When I can screw up my courage I will tell the Squire Ulick is innocent, but I cannot do it yet. Give me a little time, Irene, and all will come right in the end."

"I hope so," she said. "Do not be reckless because we have quarrelled. Let us make the best of things as they are. I am very glad to hear you have decided to tell the Squire all, it is the very best thing you can do, and I am sure it will be a relief to you."

CHAPTER XVIII
"TALLY-HO!"

The year passed rapidly away, and the hunting season was in full swing. The Rushshire hounds were to meet at Hazelwell, and Ulick saw the fixture in the paper.

"By Jove! I should like to have a spin with them again," he said to himself; "it is more than two years since I had a rousing gallop over our country. I cannot go to Hazelwell, but I have a good mind to join them as they pass through Helton village on the way to Brecon Wood. I'll write to Eli and ask him to put me up for the night, and he will be able to give me a mount. My father will be out with the hounds, and many people will recognise me, but I can vanish when the hunt is over. It will be amusing to see how the good folks take it, and whether they object to my presence."

He wrote to Eli, who was in a flutter of excitement when he received the letter. Of course, he would give him a bed, and be glad to see him. "If I could only get Random for him to ride," he said to himself, "that would be a treat. I'll try it on, anyway."

He rode over to Anselm Manor and fortunately found Irene alone. To her he showed Ulick's letter and she was delighted to hear he was coming down.

"I have come to ask a favour of you," said Eli.

"I shall have much pleasure in granting it, if I can," she replied, with a smile.

"Will you lend me Random to mount him on?" he asked.

"I shall be delighted," she replied. Then she wondered what Warren would say, as he would be sure to inquire where the horse was. She could tell him she had lent him to Eli for a friend to ride, as she did not intend to hunt that day, but merely to be at the breakfast at Hazelwell.

"You can take him back with you now; one of the grooms can ride over," she said.

Eli was delighted at the success of his plan, and as he looked at Random in his box, said —

"You will be surprised to have your old master on your back, but I expect you will know him again."

Ulick arrived at the Hazelwell stud farm, and Eli greeted him heartily.

"Something tells me you will not leave us again," he said.

"You are wrong, Eli; I cannot go to Hazelwell yet, not until – " he hesitated.

"Not until what?" asked Eli.

"Until the man who ran away with Janet thinks fit to confess to my father," said Ulick.

"Then you will have to wait a long time," said Eli, "for he has not got it in him."

"You know him!" exclaimed Ulick.

"Not for certain, but I have a very good idea. We will not talk about that. Have you heard anything of Janet?"

"Yes," said Ulick. "She is well, and I know is leading a respectable life, but she cannot come home at present, and does not wish you to see her until she has asked you to forgive her."

"I am glad to hear that, it is good news; but I should like to have her here again. If you know where she is, tell her I have forgiven her long ago." He did not ask why she did not come home, but her refusal to do so confirmed his suspicions, and he thought he understood her reason for remaining away, and approved of it.

"I have a good mount for you," said Eli. "Would you like to see him, or will you wait until the morning?"

"We may as well look at him now," said Ulick, "and then I can dream of one of the best runs on record."

They went out and across the yard, Eli lighting the way with a lantern. He opened the door of a box near to that in which Ulick entered the night he gave him such a surprise.

Holding up the light, Eli said —

"He's not a bad sort, is he?"

At first Ulick did not recognise the horse, as the light was not particularly good. He stepped up to his side, and Random sniffed and pushed his head against him.

"He seems to know me," said Ulick. Then, as he took another look at him, he exclaimed —

"Why it's Random! Good old Random; where on earth did he spring from?"

He patted the horse, and it was quite like the meeting of two friends after a long separation.

"I borrowed him," said Eli.

"From Mrs. Courtly?"

"Yes, and she was delighted to lend him."

"Will she be at the meet to-morrow?"

"No, only at the breakfast."

"I wonder what Warren will think when he sees me on him?" thought Ulick. "I expect she will merely explain that she lent him to Eli, and not mention my name."

He looked forward eagerly to riding his old favourite at a meet of the Rushshire hounds again, and yet he had strange misgivings when he was dressing, that something was about to happen which would change the whole course of his life. He had no inkling as to what it was, but the impression was there, and he could not get rid of it. He said nothing to Eli, and was as cheerful as usual at breakfast, and when he mounted Random he almost wished the day was over. He rode towards Helton, and met several people on horseback going to Hazelwell. Some of them recognised him, others he fancied did so but avoided looking in his direction.

James Bard, the veterinary surgeon, gave him a hearty welcome, and insisted on riding back with him to his house in the village.

"I am right glad to see you again," he said, briskly. "You have been away from us so long. I hope you have returned to stay."

"Not yet," replied Ulick. "I have not been to Hazelwell; I am going to join them as they pass through the village; they are sure to draw Brecon Wood first."

"Then I remain with you," said James Bard.

"You must go to Hazelwell; my father will miss you at the breakfast, and will be angry."

"Not when he learns why I remained away," replied Bard.

They rode together to James Bard's house, and remained there until the hounds came in sight. They stood at the window and watched them pass, and there was a large muster at the meet, the Hazelwell hunt breakfast always drawing a big crowd.

"It will be comparatively easy to remain unrecognised amongst that lot," said Ulick. "I did not see my father."

"The Squire has been down with the gout," said Bard, "and Dr. Harding has made him rest. I expect he will chafe a good deal at having to remain at home to-day."

Ulick was sorry his father had the gout, yet was glad he was absent from the hunt.

When the party cleared the village, James Bard and Ulick rode after them, in the direction of Brecon Wood.

As they neared the well-known haunt of the best foxes in Rushshire, they heard the hounds making music, and in a few minutes the well-known cry was heard, and they had "gone away" after the fox.

Ulick set Random going, and, followed by James Bard, quickly came in sight of the field. In front, well ahead, the hounds were streaming away over some open pastures, the fox going at a great pace, and the field in straggling order.

"He's got a capital start," said Ulick. "We are in for a good run."

"If it's the 'old dog' we went after last season, he'll make it hot. We shall soon tell, he generally doubles round and makes for Hazelwell Coppice at the other side of Glen church."

"Sixteen miles if it's a yard," said Ulick.

"And good going all the way, but there are some stiff fences, and we shall have to face the Tone river."

"Swim it or leap it?" laughed Ulick.

"You'll get over it on that fellow. I don't know about mine. I fancy I have seen yours before."

"So you have. It's Random."

"Good gracious, so it is. You'll have nothing to fear, and if anyone is in at the death, it will be yourself," said Bard.

It was not long before Random left the veterinary surgeon in the rear, and carried Ulick well to the front of the field. The horse fenced splendidly, and had a good rider on his back.

Warren Courtly inquired where Random was, and Irene told him she had lent him to Eli for a friend of his to ride, and with this he was satisfied, and did not ask who he was, much to her relief.

Ulick saw Warren ahead of him on a big Irish grey, a strong puller, but a good fencer, rather a dangerous horse to ride when his blood was up.

"He'll be surprised when he sees me on Random," thought Ulick, who had by this time forgotten all about his early-morning presentiment in the excitement of the chase.

They were galloping over a ploughed field, and the going was heavy, beyond was a meadow, and in the distance the river Tone could be seen. It was narrow in some parts, and not deep, but the banks were treacherous, and often brought riders to grief.

Out of the plough into the meadow they went at a fast pace. The old fox knew his way about, and bore away to the left. There was an old tree fallen, three parts of the way across the river, and he headed for it. Racing along the huge trunk with sure steps, he reached the end, made a long jump, and scrambled up the opposite side, and raced away up the steep incline towards Hazelwell Spinney and Glen church.

Warren set the grey at the water, and he cleared it gallantly. Ulick flew over on Random, and as they galloped up the hill got ahead of him, but was not within shouting distance as he passed him. At first Warren did not see him, but presently he recognised Random, and then Ulick.

He was never more surprised in his life than to see Ulick on Random at that particular moment. It staggered him for a few minutes, and when he recovered from the shock he was extremely angry.

"So it was to him she lent Random," he muttered savagely. "She knew he was here, at Helton. I wonder if they met when I was out. You shall suffer for this, Irene. Perhaps he thinks I am a coward; I'll show him who is the better man to-day. Damn him, I'll beat him, or know the reason why."

He rode the grey roughly, and the horse resented it. He pulled harder than ever, and the wild Irish blood in him revolted at his rider's handling.

Only half-a-dozen horsemen were near them, the bulk of the field had cut across country, knowing where the fox was making for. All the men following the track of the hounds were hard riders, and would have scorned to adopt such tactics.

"That's Ulick Maynard," muttered the huntsman. "I'm glad to see him out again, and on Random too. I wonder what he's done with old Eli's girl? She was a pretty wench. It was a bit rough on Eli, that was, and I didn't think Mr. Ulick was the man to do it. However, there's no telling what will happen when there's a woman in the case."

Ulick was thoroughly enjoying himself. He loved following the hounds, and had done so ever since he was a boy. He knew the country well, and was aware it would take Random all his time to keep going to the finish at this pace.

They were nearing Glen church, and beyond, in the distance, was Hazelwell Coppice, the house being hidden amongst the trees a couple of miles away.

Ulick took in the well-remembered scene at a glance. He called to mind how he had galloped over this country with the Squire and Irene, and how they had found it a difficult task to keep up with his father. He wished Irene was there now, so that he could give her a lead over that big, stiff-set hedge a hundred yards ahead of him. He forgot all about Warren on the grey. There were the hounds scrambling through the bars of the gate, dashing through the holes in the hedge near the bank. Once he caught sight of the fox streaking along with his tail straight out, his head down, and his body almost level with the ground.

"He's not half done yet," thought Ulick. "He deserves to get away, and I hope he will save his brush."

The fox meant doing so if possible, there could be no doubt about that.

Round Glen church was a high, rough stone wall, built in the old style, stone piled upon stone, not bound together in any way, except by the pressure of one upon another. The coping on the top was loose, and in places big stones had rolled off on to the grass, for the church stood in a field, and was approached by a footpath.

The fox seemed of a pious turn of mind, for he headed straight for the church, as though hoping to find sanctuary there from his desperate pursuers.

Ulick expected to see him run round the churchyard, but instead of that he scrambled up the wall and made his way amongst the tombstones and over the graves of men who had hunted his ancestors in years gone by.

"If you think I am going to follow you over there you are mistaken," said Ulick. "I have no desire to join the silent residents in that locality. I'll ride round and catch you up on the other side, it is not far out of the way."

He watched the hounds scrambling over the rough wall, which stood on a rise on the ground, and saw from their movements they were well-nigh beaten.

Warren Courtly was not far behind. He saw Ulick check his mount, and then make for the corner of the churchyard. He was near enough to be heard, if he shouted, and he called out —

"Follow me over the wall, if you have pluck enough; don't sneak round that way."