70 TALES OF THE TURF AND THE CHASE. 



He believed that he had seen the cards in the Squire's hand, 

 and on the strength of that conviction he had backed him to 

 win the trick. He was positive (the language of his meditations 

 was strongly flavoured with striking, if not always coherent, 

 metaphor) that ' tJiis journey at least he had got Mr. Nathaniel 

 Grimstowe, in a line, on toast.' 



It wanted but twenty minutes of the stroke of midnight by 

 Heckler's watch, and still the Squire came not. Standing about 

 in animated groups in the paddock on Windyholm, the Thorn- 

 ford racecourse, were many of what might be termed the upper 

 circles of sporting society, eagerly discussing the chances of the 

 coming encounter ; and as the moments sped, bringing the ' one 

 hour after moonrise' excitingly near, wondering whether the 

 match would come off after all. Fluefaker, ready for action, was 

 being led about by the faithful Widgeon in one corner of the 

 paddock, while Appletart, in his clothing, was being kept gently 

 moving at the opposite corner ; Crowe, of course, in jealous 

 attendance. Although there was not a man present who had 

 not seen the race for the Hunt Cup, most of them criticised the 

 nags with that impressive air of professional knowingness exhi- 

 bited b\' a group of Newmarket touts when an unfamiliar candi- 

 date for the Guineas makes his first appearance on the classic 

 Heath. Second in order of interest to the two flyers was Cap- 

 tain -Dykely. He was fully equipped for the fray, and had been 

 on view for some time. It was evident to the skilled eyes that 

 scanned him that he had made his toilette with uncommon care. 

 ' Looks like business,' observed a critic of stably appearance to a 

 grave and silent auditory of three listeners. ' Couldn't have been 

 more particular if it was the Derby he was going to have a fly 

 at. See his goloshes ?' The interlocutor Jiad seen those uncouth 

 casings. ' The ground is not so sticky as all that comes to. 

 Suppose he is afraid of carrying an ounce of clay on his boots ? 

 Well, I like a cove that takes care of his precious self. He 

 means to have a good look in and no mistake.' 



The subject of these not uncomplimentary observations 

 conversed in low tones with the Marquis of Gules, one of the 

 stewards, who was present in response to the Captain's urgent 

 invitation. 



' Do you think he means to forfeit, Dykely ?' 



' I really cannot say ; it certainly looks uncommonly like a 

 forfeit. But there is no accounting for anything that a Whin- 

 ridsre does.' 



