Sir Hilton's Sin Part 20

"Didn't see her face, Sir Hilton; only her back."

"Well, never mind now, I've no time. But look here, sir, I'll have this over when I come back, and if I find that you--you shrimp of a boy--have been carrying on a flirtation with that saucy music-hall hussy, I'll wale your jacket with one of the joints of that fishing-rod. A boy like you! What's that you say?"

"No, you won't, uncle."

"What!" roared Sir Hilton.

"If you touch me I'll tell aunt of the game you're carrying on with Lady Tilborough."

Mark said afterwards to Jane that the guv'nor looked as if you could have knocked him down with a feather.

But the baronet recovered himself.

"What!" he cried. "Lady Tilborough? Because that lady happens to call here when your aunt is out, you dare to--to insinuate--you vile young viper--that--that--"

"Here, t.i.t for tat, uncle. I'm not a baby," said the boy. "I know.

Gammon! Lady T. don't visit with aunt, and I can see your little game."

"My little game, sir!" stuttered Sir Hilton.

"Yes; you're carrying on some game with her ladyship about the races.

You told aunt you'd given up all racing."

"Of course, sir!" cried Sir Hilton.

"Yes, and Dr Jack Granton's been here to take your instructions this morning; Lady Tilborough rides over to see you on the sly as soon as auntie's out; and Marky's had orders to get the dogcart ready and pack your traps. Why, uncle," shouted the boy as a sudden idea glanced through his sharp young mind, "you're going to ride!"

"Hush!" shouted the guilty man, seizing the boy and clapping a hand over his mouth. "Silence, you wicked young scoundrel!"

Mark rushed out with the bag to hide the guffaw ready to burst forth.

Then there was a short struggle, and the boy got his mouth free and began to roar with laughter, as he gazed merrily in his uncle's face.

"Here's a game!" he cried. "Bowled out, nunky. Look here, I won't split. I want to go to the races too."

"How dare you say anything about races, sir!"

"There, chuck it up, uncle. I'm a man of the world too. Give me a lift to the race, and shut your eyes and I'll shut mine."

"You treacherous young viper!"

"Oh, no, I'm not. Don't you tell about Molly Simpkins--ahem!--coming here, and I won't say a word to auntie about Lady T. and the races."

"I'll make no such bond with you, you dog!"

"Oh, yes, you will, uncle; and, look here, I haven't done yet. You're going to give me a fiver."

"Money to bribe you? No!" pried Sir Hilton, firmly.

"No, to put on the winning horse. I want the right tip. What is it?"

"I'll make no such infamous contracts with you, sir," cried Sir Hilton, furiously, "and I'm going out on business--business of vital importance."

"Of course, uncle. I understand," said the boy, mockingly.

"And I'm not going to leave you behind to make mischief between me and your aunt. Come along; I shall take you with me in the dogcart I have waiting."

"All right, uncle. I know."

"And as a prisoner, sir."

"That's your sort, uncle."

"You wicked young wretch! Come along, quick!"

"Quick as quicksilver, uncle," cried the boy, grinning, as, evading his uncle's clutch, he thrust his hand through his elder's arm. "Here, I may as well put the pot on as it seems to be something extra good, so you'll have to make it two fivers, uncle, and two make ten."

Sir Hilton uttered a wicked word totally unfitted for the ears of youth standing in such close relationship to him, and a few minutes later the dogcart--with uncle and nephew in front, and Mark grinning to himself as he sat behind pressing the bag so that it could not drop off--spun out of the yard gate, and off and away by the back lanes for the Tilborough road, now pretty lively with vehicles of all sorts, all bound in the same direction.

Fate plays strange pranks!

CHAPTER TEN.

HOW JANE LISTENED AND TOLD.

Just at the same time Lady Lisle's barouche was getting very close to the swing gates and the carriage drive of the Denes, with her ladyship leaning back.

"Was not that a vehicle of some kind leaving the stable yard, Thomas?"

she said to the coachman.

"Yes, my lady."

"Could you see what it was?"

"Not quite, my lady, but I think it was ours, with Black Nelly in the sharps, for I heard one of the clicks she gives when she oversteps with her off hind hoof."

Lady Lisle wondered, and started the next minute when she heard another click.

But this time it was the latch of the swing gate, half-drowned by the carriage wheels on the drive leading to the front door.

Then she fell to wondering again, and alighted to enter the house.

Just as she stepped down, a telegraph-boy came up on his bicycle, smiling, and ready to touch his cap, as he held out to her one of the familiar tinted envelopes, with prophetic notions about Christmas-boxes in the future.

"A message!" she said, changing colour for the moment, as thoughts of the possibilities so often hidden beneath one of those official envelopes crossed her mind.