"Proof be damned, sir!" said Sam warmly. "That ain't a good enough story for anyone with a head on his shoulders to swallow."
"No, Sam. You're right. And Lord Saltash knows it. I can't go to him and demand to see his proof because he's on the other side of the world. But there's no scotching a lie of that sort. It'll have spread like the plague long before he gets back. And meantime he has decided that horse-racing and breeding are no longer his fancy, and he is going to sell the Stud--and me along with it."
Jake's mouth took a bitter, downward curve with the last words.
Sam's jaw dropped. "Going to sell the Stud, sir?"
Jake nodded. "Yes, before the Spring meetings. You'll be all right, Sam. Anyone would be glad to get you. The Stewards know you all right."
"Oh, I wasn't thinking of that, sir. I was thinking of you." Sam's blue eyes were gravely troubled. "You've got a wife, sir."
"My wife inherits her uncle's money. She is not dependent upon me--fortunately for her." Jake was speaking through set teeth. "I knew it was coming," he added. "I've known it for some weeks." His eyes suddenly glittered afresh. "It ain't a knock-out blow, Sam," he said. "Don't you make any mistake as to that!"
Sam's eyes sparkled in response. "It's you that's the knock-out, sir," he said, with eager partisanship. "He hits below the belt, but he won't down you that way. You're better known than I am. And no one will believe as you're not straight. If I was to hear any chap say a single word against you, why, I'd crack his skull for him. I would that--if it was Saltash himself!"
Jake uttered a brief laugh. "No. You steer clear of Saltash! He's one too many for honest men."
"He's a dirty swab!" said Sam, and spat into the fire with fervour. "He ain't fit to employ anyone except Dick Stevens and the likes of him. I often wondered who squared Dick that time, but it wouldn't surprise me now if--" He paused, looking at Jake interrogatively.