Meanwhile, Mr. Vermont had also betaken himself to the stables; but he did not ask to see "King Cole"--contenting himself with beaming admiringly on Mr. Markham, while the head groom held forth on all the precautions he was taking with regard to the precious animal's safety.
"An' if he's got at, Mr. Vermont, sir, I'll eat my head," was his parting speech.
In reply to which Mr. Vermont murmured inaudibly, as he walked away: "It's a lucky job, my good fellow, that I shan't make you keep your word!"
At the end of the plantation, beyond the stable buildings, there was a little cottage attached to the straw-yard. Having reached this, Jasper listened attentively; then, without any warning knock, he lifted the latch, and entered.
To all appearances the room was empty, save for some pieces of poor furniture. But the visitor, blinking at the sudden transition from light to darkness, walked over to a rough couch, where lay the misshapen jockey Peacock, either asleep or deep in thought. Jasper shook him angrily by the shoulder, and a sullen scowl darkened the little monkey-like face as he recognised his visitor.
"Well?" he said gruffly, without attempting to change his position.
"Short, and not polite!" retorted Jasper, shaking him again. "Didn't I tell you I'd come here to-day, you imp of darkness?"
"You did, guv'nor," the man replied sullenly.
"Well, here I am. You're not drunk, are you? Here--let's look at you." With a cruel smile, the soft, amiable Mr. Vermont seized the ear of the dwarfed jockey and dragged him to the light. "No, not drunk--for a wonder. Well, you know what to do to-morrow?"
The man nodded sulkily.