Sam was momentarily disconcerted. "No offence meant, sir," he said, picking up his own cap, and hastening somewhat clumsily to conceal the decoration it bore.
Jake's eyes came to him, regarded him for a moment fiercely without seeing him; then abruptly softened and took him in. "Sam," he said, "I trust you, and I'm going to tell you something. Shut that door!"
Sam obeyed. He looked straight at Jake with sunny, honest eyes. "Hadn't you better think it over first, sir?" he suggested.
"No." Jake held out his hand suddenly. "I trust you," he repeated, a dogged note in his voice.
Sam's hand gripped his like a vice. "Right you are, sir," he said cheerily.
Jake went on, as if impelled. "You remember what happened in the summer at the Graydown Meeting when I thrashed young Stevens?"
"Quite well, sir." Sam's reply came brisk and smart. He held himself like a soldier on parade.
"You know why I thrashed him?" Jake proceeded.
"Yes, sir. Thrashed him and kicked him out, sir. I was never more pleased in my life," said Sam.
"He's been employed at the Castle stables ever since," Jake said very bitterly. "I was a fool! a damn' fool--not to expose him. But Lord Saltash knew that he pulled the Albatross. I told him so. He now says that he has proof that I aided and abetted--proof enough to get me warned off the Turf."