A NEWMARKET STORY. 23 



respect, if not courtesy. Joe, ghastly almost as the waxen face 

 of her who lies in the little lodgings in the High-street, enters. 

 He stands near the door. 



'Jess any better?' says the gentleman carelessly, holding up 

 his claret-glass to the light, and not glancing at the jockey. 



' Better ? Ay, she is better.' 



Something in Joe's rasping voice causes the young man to 

 look round. As soon as Joe meets his glance he comes slowly 

 nearer to the table. 



' It wur Jess as rode Satanas to-day.' 



The young man started, and drew his open betting-book 

 towards him. 



'What infernal nonsense you talk, Joe ! You've been drink- 

 ing!' 



A strange smile flickered over the haggard boy-like face of 

 the jockey. 



' Not to-night, sir ; not to-night, with that cold thing a-lying 

 up-stairs with them words a-sounding in my ears.' 



Rupert Ellis meets Joe's fixed glance with increased un- 

 easiness. 



' Sit down, Joe, and have a glass of wine. No ? Here's a mild 

 cigar, then.' 



Joe hit the table suddenly, and with force. 



' I wur brought home dead-drunk last night, and Jess, without 

 my knowin' nought about it, dressed in my clothes this mornin'. 

 You knows as how she rid the race, and won it too. Ay, my 

 Jess wur always a game one. But you, you blackguard, it wur 

 that murdered her ! I know it now, though she died so hard, and 

 never let on about you, scoundrel that you are !' 



The magnificence of such heroism as Jess's does not strike 

 the young man, but he is overwhelmed by the thought of such a 

 fact becoming public. The truth of the assertion, remembering 

 many incidents of the morning, he does not doubt. That Jess 

 can be really dead seems incredible, and a rush of self-pity for 

 his own misfortunes, the evil consequence dogging his success, 

 swallows up any other thought. 



' Dead ? It can't be true !' he says, looking up at Joe's face, 

 eager to discern a possible hoax. 



With the same harsh rasping voice Joe goes on, 



' I found 'em, them letters o' yourn to Jess, and I was minded 

 to have a bit o' revenge — to take 'em to your young woman as 

 you're sweet on. Ay, and I carried them then and there to the 



