"Well ridden, sir!" says the gentleman. "Couldn't have done it

better myself, no, by Gad I couldn't--could I, Sherry?"

"No, George, by George you couldn't!" answered a voice.

"Must take a run down to Brighton, Mr.--Mr.--ah, yes--Beverley.

Show you some sport at Brighton, sir. A magnificent race,

--congratulate you, sir. Must see more of you!"

Then, still as one in a dream, Barnabas bows again, sees Martin at

"The Terror's" bridle, and is led back, through a pushing, jostling

throng all eager to behold the winner, and thus, presently finds

himself once more in the quiet of the paddock behind the "White Hart"

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inn.

Stiffly and painfully he descends from the saddle, hears a feeble

voice call his name and turning, beholds a hurdle set in the shade

of a tree, and upon the hurdle the long, limp form of Captain

Slingsby, with three or four strangers kneeling beside him.

"Ah, Beverley!" said he faintly. "Glad you beat Carnaby, he--crowded

me a bit--at the wall, y' know. Poor old 'Rascal' 's gone,

b'gad--and I'm going, but prefer to--go--out of doors,--seems more

room for it somehow--give me the sky to look at. Told you it would

be a grand race, and--b'gad, so it was! Best I--ever rode--or ever

shall. Eh--what, Beverley? No, no--mustn't take it--so hard, dear

fellow. B'gad it--might be worse, y' know. I--might have lost,

and--lived--been deeper in Gaunt's clutches than ever,--then. As it

is, I'm going beyond--beyond his reach--for good and all. Which is

the purest--bit of luck I ever had. Lift me up a little--will you,

Beverley? Deuced fine day, b'gad! And how green the grass is--never

saw it so green before--probably because--never troubled to look

though, was always so--deuced busy, b'gad!--The poor old 'Rascal'

broke his back, Beverley--so did I. They--shot 'The Rascal,' but--"

Here the Captain sighed, and closed his eyes wearily, but after a

moment opened them again.

"A fine race, gentlemen!" said he, addressing the silent group,

"a fine race well ridden--and won by--my friend, Beverley. I'll

warrant him a--true-blue, gentlemen. Beverley, I--I congratulate--"

Once more he closed his eyes, sighed deeply and, with the sigh,

Captain Slingsby of the Guards had paid his debts--for good and all.




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