A Millionaire of Yesterday

  CHAPTER XXXII

  "You are very smart, Ernestine," he said, looking her admiringly.

  "One must be smart at Ascot," she answered, "or stay away."

  "I've just heard some news," he continued.

  "Yes?"

  "Who do you think is here?"

  She glanced at him sideways under her lace parasol. "Every one I shouldthink."

  "Including," he said, "Mr. Scarlett Trent!" She grew a shade paler, andleaned for a moment against the rail of the paddock in which they werelounging.

  "I thought," she said, "that the Mazetta Castle was not due tillto-day."

  "She touched at Plymouth in the night, and he had a special train up. Hehas some horses running, you know."

  "I suppose," she remarked, "that he is more of a celebrity than evernow!"

  "Much more," he answered. "If he chooses he will be the lion of theseason! By the by, you had nothing of interest from Fred?"

  She shook her head impatiently.

  "Nothing but praises! According to Fred, he's a hero!"

  "I hate him," Davenant said sulkily.

  "And so," she answered softly, "do I! Do you see him coming, Cecil?"

  "In good company too," the young man laughed bitterly.

  A little group of men, before whom every one fell back respectfully,were strolling through the paddock towards the horses. Amongst them wasRoyalty, and amongst them also was Scarlett Trent. But when he sawthe girl in the white foulard smile at him from the paling he forgotetiquette and everything else. He walked straight across to her withthat keen, bright light in his eyes which Fred had described so well inhis letter.

  "I am very fortunate," he said, taking the delicately gloved hand intohis fingers, "to find you so soon. I have only been in England a fewhours."

  She answered him slowly, subjecting him the while to a somewhat closeexamination. His face was more sunburnt than ever she had seen a man's,but there was a wonderful force and strength in his features, whichseemed to have become refined instead of coarsened by the privationsthrough which he had passed. His hand, as she had felt, was as hard asiron, and it was not without reluctance that she felt compelled totake note of his correct attire and easy bearing. After all he must bepossessed of a wonderful measure of adaptability.

  "You have become famous," she said. "Do you know that you are going tobe made a lion?"

  "I suppose the papers have been talking a lot of rot," he answeredbluntly. "I've had a fairly rough time, and I'm glad to tell you this,Miss Wendermott--I don't believe I'd ever have succeeded but for yournephew Fred. He's the pluckiest boy I ever knew."

  "I am very pleased to hear it," she answered. "He's a dear boy!"

  "He's a brick," Trent answered. "We've been in some queer scrapestogether--I've lots of messages for you! By the by, are you alone?"

  "For the moment," she answered; "Mr. Davenant left me as you came up.I'm with my cousin, Lady Tresham. She's on the lawn somewhere."

  He looked down the paddock and back to her.

  "Walk with me a little way," he said, "and I will show you Iris beforeshe starts."

  "You!" she exclaimed.

  He pointed to the card. It was surely an accident that she had notnoticed it before. Mr. Trent's Iris was amongst the entries for the GoldCup.

  "Why, Iris is the favourite!"

  He nodded.

  "So they tell me! I've been rather lucky haven't I, for a beginner? Ifound a good trainer, and I had second call on Cannon, who's ridinghim. If you care to back him for a trifle, I think you'll be all right,although the odds are nothing to speak of."

  She was walking by his side now towards the quieter end of the paddock.

  "I hear you have been to Torquay," he said, looking at her critically,"it seems to have agreed with you. You are looking well!"

  She returned his glance with slightly uplifted eyebrows, intending toconvey by that and her silence a rebuke to his boldness. He was blandlyunconscious, however, of her intent, being occupied just then inreturning the greetings of passers-by. She bit her lip and lookedstraight ahead.

  "After all," he said, "unless you are very keen on seeing Iris, I thinkwe'd better give it up. There are too many people around her already."

  "Just as you like," she answered, "only it seems a shame that youshouldn't look over your own horse before the race if you want to. Wouldyou like to try alone?"

  "Certainly not," he answered. "I shall see plenty of her later. Are youfond of horses?"

  "Very."

  "Go to many race-meetings?"

  "Whenever I get the chance!--I always come here."

  "It is a great sight," he said thoughtfully, looking around him. "Areyou here just for the pleasure of it, or are you going to write aboutit?"

  She laughed.

  "I'm going to write about some of the dresses," she said. "I'm afraid noone would read my racing notes."

  "I hope you'll mention your own," he said coolly. "It's quite theprettiest here."

  She scarcely knew whether to be amused or offended.

  "You are a very downright person, Mr. Trent," she said.

  "You don't expect me to have acquired manners yet, do you?" he answereddrily.

  "You have acquired a great many things," she said, "with surprisingfacility. Why not manners?"

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  "No doubt they will come, but I shall want a lot of polishing. Iwonder--"

  "Well?"

  "Whether any one will ever think it worth while to undertake the task."

  She raised her eyes and looked him full in the face. She had made up hermind exactly what to express--and she failed altogether to do it. Therewas a fire and a strength in the clear, grey eyes fixed so earnestlyupon hers which disconcerted her altogether. She was desperately angrywith herself and desperately uneasy.

  "You have the power," she said with slight coldness, "to buy mostthings. By the by, I was thinking only just now, how sad it was thatyour partner did not live. He shared the work with you, didn't he? Itseems such hard lines that he could not have shared the reward!"

  He showed no sign of emotion such as she had expected, and for which shehad been narrowly watching him. Only he grew at once more serious, andhe led her a little further still from the crush of people. It was theluncheon interval, and though the next race was the most important ofthe day, the stream of promenaders had thinned off a little.

  "It is strange," he said, "that you should have spoken to me of mypartner. I have been thinking about him a good deal lately."

  "In what way?"

  "Well, first of all, I am not sure that our agreement was altogethera fair one," he said. "He had a daughter and I am very anxious to findher! I feel that she is entitled to a certain number of shares in theCompany, and I want her to accept them."

  "Have you tried to find her?" she asked.

  He looked steadily at her for a moment, but her parasol had dropped alittle upon his side and he could not see her face.

  "Yes, I have tried," he said slowly, "and I have suffered a greatdisappointment. She knows quite well that I am searching for her, andshe prefers to remain undiscovered."

  "That sounds strange," she remarked, with her eyes fixed upon thedistant Surrey hills. "Do you know her reason?"

  "I am afraid," he said deliberately, "that there can be only one. It's amiserable thing to believe of any woman, and I'd be glad--"

  He hesitated. She kept her eyes turned away from him, but her mannerdenoted impatience.

  "Over on this side," he continued, "it seems that Monty was a gentlemanin his day, and his people were--well, of your order! There was an EarlI believe in the family, and no doubt they are highly respectable. Hewent wrong once, and of course they never gave him another chance. Itisn't their way--that sort of people! I'll admit he was pretty low downwhen I came across him, but I reckon that was the fault of those whosent him adrift--and after all there was good in him even then. I amgoing to tell you something now, Miss Wendermott, which I've oftenwanted
to--that is, if you're interested enough to care to hear it!"

  All the time she was asking herself how much he knew. She motioned himto proceed.

  "Monty had few things left in the world worth possessing, but there wasone which he had never parted with, which he carried with him always.It was the picture of his little girl, as she had been when his troublehappened."

  He stooped a little as though to see over the white rails, but she wastoo adroit. Her face remained hidden from him by that little cloud ofwhite lace.

  "It is an odd thing about that picture," he went on slowly, "but heshowed it to me once or twice, and I too got very fond of it! It wasjust a little girl's face, very bright and very winsome, and over therewe were lonely, and it got to mean a good deal to both of us. And onenight Monty would gamble--it was one of his faults, poor chap--and hehad nothing left but his picture, and I played him for it--and won!"

  "Brute!" she murmured in an odd, choked tone.

  "Sounds so, doesn't it? But I wanted that picture. Afterwards came ourterrible journey back to the Coast, when I carried the poor old chapon my back day by day, and stood over him at night potting those blackbeasts when they crept up too close--for they were on our track all thetime. I wouldn't tell you the whole story of those days, Miss Wendermottfor it would keep you awake at night; but I've a fancy for telling youthis. I'd like you to believe it, for it's gospel truth. I didn't leavehim until I felt absolutely and actually certain that he couldn't livean hour. He was passing into unconsciousness, and a crowd of thosenatives were close upon our heels. So I left him and took the picturewith me--and I think since then that it has meant almost as much to meas ever it had been to him."

  "That," she remarked, "sounds a little far-fetched--not to sayimpossible."

  "Some day," he answered boldly, "I shall speak to you of this again, andI shall try to convince you that it is truth!"

  He could not see her face, but he knew very well in some occult mannerthat she had parted with some at least of her usual composure. As amatter of fact she was nervous and ill-at-ease.

  "You have not yet told me," she said abruptly, "what you imagine can bethis girl's reasons for remaining unknown."

  "I can only guess them," he said gravely; "I can only suppose that sheis ashamed of her father and declines to meet any one connected withhim. It is very wrong and very narrow of her. If I could talk to her forten minutes and tell her how the poor old chap used to dream about herand kiss her picture, I can't think but she'd be sorry."

  "Try and think," she said, looking still away from him, "that she musthave another reason. You say that you liked her picture! Try and begenerous in your thoughts of her for its sake."

  "I will try," he answered, "especially--"

  "Yes?"

  "Especially--because the picture makes me think--sometimes--of you!"