King of the Castle Part 34

"There, my dear," she said, holding up a large gla.s.s dish; "there's a junket of which any woman might be proud, and--"

"No, no; not now, Mrs Sarson. I'm going out."

"Going out, sir?"

"Yes; up to London."

"To London, sir?"

"Yes; for a day or two," and he hurried by her.

Half-an-hour later, he was on his way in the town fly to the railway station, just as the sun, low down in the west, was shining full on the white sails of Glyddyr's yacht, as it glided slowly on over the bright, calm sea.

Chris turned his eyes away, and looked straight before him as he mentally conjured up the gathered thousands--the bright green course, the glossy horses making their preliminary canter, with the gay silken jackets of the jockeys filling out as they rose in their stirrups, and flashing in the bright sunshine. There was the trampling of hoofs over the springy turf, the starting as the flag was dropped, the dashing of one to the front, of others challenging, and the minutes of excitement as, in a gathering roar, one horse seemed to glide out from a compressed group, gradually increasing its distance as it sped.

Hiss, rush, roar! Then the vision had pa.r.s.ed away, and Chris Lisle was seated, not in a saddle, but on a cushion in a first-cla.s.s carriage, the speed increasing and the wind rushing by the windows as, with cheeks flushed, he rode on, his teeth set, and completely now under the domination of one thought alone as he softly repeated to himself the words he had read upon the telegram,--

"_Back the Princes filly_."

and a few minutes later the figures he had seen in that day's news,--

"_100 to 1_."

The simoom seemed to be scorching up his brains.

It was all one whirl of excitement to Chris Lisle--that railway journey to town, and there were moments when he asked himself whether he was sane to go upon such a mission. The night journey of the train seemed like a race, and the rattle of the bridges and tunnels suggested the shouts and cheers of the crowd as the horses swept on. But he had determined to persevere, and with stubborn determination he went on, reached town, and without hesitation laid his money--four hundred pounds, in four different sums so as to insure himself as well as he could, in each case getting the odds of 100 to 1, so that, should the Prince's horse come in first, he would be the winner of forty thousand pounds.

As soon as this was done, he went to a quiet hotel to try and get some rest.

But that was impossible, for he was face to face with his folly. Four hundred pounds gone in an insane hope of winning forty thousand, and he could see now how absurd it was.

"Never mind," he said bitterly; "I shall not be the first fool who has lost money on a race, and I shall have had the excitement of a bit of gambling."

His idea was to stay in town and go to a theatre, so as to divert the current of his thoughts; then have a long night's rest and go to some other place of amus.e.m.e.nt the next day, so as to pa.s.s the time till the race had been run, and he knew the worst.

He dined, or rather tried to dine, and for the first time in his life drank heavily, but the wine seemed not to have the slightest effect.

Then in a feverish heat he went to one of the best theatres, and saw a social drama enacted by the people who filled his brain, what was going on upon the stage being quite a blank.

He saw himself as a disappointed hero, and Glyddyr, as the successful man, carrying all before him, winning Claude's love, and then, in what seemed to be the last act, there was a wedding, and a wretched man going afterwards right along to one of the towering cliffs overhanging the sea, below Danmouth, and leaping off to end his woes.

"I'm glad I came to the theatre," he said mockingly to himself, in one of his lucid intervals. "Better have gone to a doctor for something to send me to sleep."

Then he became conscious of the fact that people in the pit were saying "Hush!" and "Sit down!" and that somebody had risen and come out from the place where he was jammed in, right in the centre of the stalls, just as the climax of the play was being reached.

Then he grew conscious that he was the offender, and breathed more freely as he got out into the cool night air.

It was not ten, and he found a chemist's open near the Strand.

"I'm not very well," he said to the gentlemanly-looking man behind the counter. "Had a lot of trouble, made me restless, and I want to take something to give me a good nights rest. Can you give me a dose of laudanum?"

The man looked at him curiously.

"You ought to go to a doctor," he said.

"Doctor! Absurd! What for? I'm as well as you are. Give me something calming. It will be better than going back to the hotel and taking brandy or wine."

The chemist nodded, and prepared a draught.

"What's that? Laudanum--morphia?"

"No; a mild dose of chloral. Try it. If it does not act as you wish, I should advise you to go to a physician in the morning."

Chris nodded, took the bottle, and strolled back to his hotel, where he at once went to bed after swallowing his draught.

It did not have the desired effect. His idea was to take a draught which would plunge him in oblivion for a few hours; but this dose of chloral seemed to transport him to a plain, surrounded by mountains covered with the most gloriously-tinted foliage, where flowers rippled all over the meadow-like pastures, and cascades of the most brilliant iridescent waters came foaming down, sparkling in the glorious sunshine.

All deliciously dreamy and restful, but when the morning came it did not seem to him that he had slept. Still, he was calmer, and felt more ready to think out the inevitable.

"How many hours shall I have to wait?" he said.

The race would probably be run about three o'clock, and till then he must be as patient as he could.

"Better go back at once," he thought, "and repent at leisure over my madness."

But he did not, for he accepted the last suggestion of his brain, partook of a hurried breakfast, and jumped into a hansom; had himself driven to the station, and soon after was being borne away by the express.

The rest of that day's proceedings were a dreamy whirl of confusion.

The rushing noise of the train seemed to bring back the old excitement, and this increased as he reached the station, and had himself driven to the course, where one of the first things he learned was that the case was hopeless; for the horse he had backed had gone down in the betting, till two hundred to one could be obtained, and for the first time he felt sick at heart.

He went up into the princ.i.p.al stand, securing a good place to see the race, and waited while two others were run, the horses flying by without exciting the slightest interest; the only satisfaction he gained was in having them pa.s.s, so as to be nearer to the great feature of the day.

At last, just as he had pictured it from old recollections of a minor race he had once seen, there was the shouting and bawling of the odds, the clearing of the course, and then the preliminary canter of the ten compet.i.tors, among which he now made out the colours of Simoom, a big ordinary-looking horse, with nothing to draw attention to it, while the three first favourites of the _cognoscenti_ were the perfection of equine beauty, and their admirers shouted with excitement as they flashed by.

Then, after five false starts, each of which was maddening to Chris, who, while thinking the worst, could not help a gleam of hope piercing the dark cloud which overshadowed him, the cry arose that they were off, and amid a babel of sounds, as the parti-coloured throng of jockeys swept along the green course and disappeared, spasmodic cries arose, "Lady Ronald," "Safflower--Safflower leads," "Rotten race," "The favourite shows 'em all her heels," "Look! The favourite!"

The horses, after a period of silence, had swept round into sight again, and it was seen that three were together, then there was an interval, and there were four, another interval, and the rest behind.

The second group excited no notice, save from Chris, who made out that his horse was with them; and while every eye was fixed on the exciting race between the favourite and the two horses which strove hard to get abreast, there was suddenly a yell of excitement, for Simoom all at once shot out from among the second lot, and going well, with her jockey using neither whip nor spur, began rapidly to near the leaders.

The shouts increased, and a thrill ran through Chris as he saw the plain-looking mare glide on, but apparently too late to overtake the others.

Another roar as it was seen that the favourite's jockey was beginning to use his whip, and the roar increased as Safflower was level with her shoulder, was head to head, was head in front, and the next moment, hopelessly beaten, the favourite was pa.s.sed by Lady Ronald as well, who now challenged Safflower, and they were racing level for fifty yards.

The excitement grew frantic. "Safflower! Lady Ronald! Safflower!

Safflower!"

"No, no, no!" shouted a man on Chris's left. "Look!"