Lord Bellefield shook his head. “Too late to make anything of it,” he replied, “that is, of course, I might save myself from any very heavy loss, but I must have money—a—in fact, I stand so fair to win largely by this race, that hedging will be quite a dernier ressort. But you have some better scheme than that to propose.”
“If your ludship is at a loss how to act, it is not likely that any plan of mine will do the trick,” was the reply.
Whether or not Turnbull wished to provoke his employer, certain it is his speech produced that effect, for with an oath Lord Bellefield exclaimed—
“What is it you are aiming at? if it be money you are standing out for, you have only to prevent Tartuffe from starting, and name your own price.”
“Why, you see, it might be as well to let him start; men have been transported for interfering with a race ’orse to purwent his starting—but he need not win the Derby for all that,” was the enigmatical reply.
Lord Bellefield’s lip curled with a sardonic smile; his knowledge of human nature had not then deceived him—Turnbull had some scheme in petto, and was only waiting to secure the best market for it.
“I suppose £1000 will satisfy you?” he said; and as the trainer bowed his gratitude, continued, “You are certain your plan cannot fail? What is it you propose?”
“Why, you see, my lud, ’orses is like ’uman creeturs in many respecs,” replied Turnbull sententiously; “there’s some things as agrees with their stummicks, and some as disagrees with ’em; the things that agrees with the hanimals makes ’em run faster, the things that disagrees makes them run slower, or if you give it ’em too strong they comes to a standstill all together. Now, if so be as Tartuffe was to have a taste of a certain drug as I knows on—that ain’t very different from hopium—give to him afore he goes to sleep to-night, he’ll come to the starting post all right and run very respectible, but if he beats our ’orse I’ll engage to eat him, saddle and all. I can’t speak fairer than that, I expect.”
“And who have you fixed upon to execute this piece of delectable rascality?” inquired Lord Bellefield, unable to repress a sneer at the meanness of the villainy by which, however, he was only too glad to profit.
“It was not a very easy matter to pitch upon the right man,” rejoined the trainer, “but luckily I happened to remember a party that seemed as if he’d been born a purpose for the job, and who has been so thoroughly cleaned out lately that he was not likely to be particular about trifles. I saw him before I left home, showed him which way his interest lay, put him up to my ideas on the subject, and I hope when I sees your ludship to-morrow morning I shall have some good news to tell you.”