What would they say, she wondered, when they knew. What would Harry Fielden think? But, at that very moment, Harry Fielden had something else to occupy his attention. He was walking across the Downs towards Haredale Park with Raffle, and the latter was speaking his mind very freely.
"I won't be quiet, sir, and I won't keep my mouth shut," he said. "I tell you, Mr. Harry, it is a foul conspiracy and there are no two ways about it. Sir George gave Mallow a week to try to pull the colt round, and he says, says he, 'Mallow, if he's no better by that time, he's to be scratched.' Those were the instructions and Sir George confirmed them this morning. Now I am not going to say that the colt is much better, but I am prepared to pledge my reputation, and it is worth something, that I'll get him fit in a month. The whole thing has been arranged between Sir George and that man Copley, so that the horse can be scratched for the Derby. The public are to believe that Sir George has been unfortunate, but has played the game like a gentleman and a sportsman. Well, you may have what opinion you like, but I know better. Mind you, if I didn't know what I know I should have to put up with it and hold my tongue, because I am only a servant and no one can blame me for obeying my orders. But I have been making inquiries, and I find that Copley and his gang have been laying thick and thin against the colt for the past week. Do you mean to tell me they could know the colt would be scratched if they hadn't got Sir George in their power?"
"What do you want me to do?" Fielden asked.
A bitter smile crossed the old man's face.
"I shouldn't have thought you'd ask what you were to do, sir," he said. "But I'm not going to stand it. I'm not going to sit down quietly and see this game going on. I daresay you think it will be bad for Miss May if this thing comes out. But bless you! if you go the right way to work nothing will leak out. The colt mustn't be scratched. You leave him where he is and he's certain to win the Derby. You are the very man to step in and stop the game. Let Sir George know what your power is. Let Copley see that he's got a gentleman to deal with. It will ruin Copley and his mob, but that doesn't matter. They are a fine set of thieves, if you ask me, sir, and I shouldn't mind telling Copley so. Now I would like to hear your opinion."
Fielden had no particular opinion to offer. At the same time, he had information in his possession which would have astonished Raffle if he could only have seen into the mind of his old master. Pressing as the matter was, it was not possible to act on the spur of the moment, and Fielden contented himself by saying he would think over the matter.
"But you can't do it, sir," Raffle protested. "There's no time to waste like that. The colt has to be scratched and maybe a telegram's already gone to London to that effect. The mischief may be done."
"By Jove, I hadn't thought of that," Fielden exclaimed. "All right, Joe, it will be a most unpleasant piece of business, but I see now that it must not be put off any longer. I'll go straight over to Haredale Park and see Sir George at once."
Sir George was in his library. He had given instructions to the butler to deny him to every one. In fact, he was seated by the library fire reading a letter which May had left for him. She had not minced matters. She had gone away for reasons well known to him, she said, and her address mattered nothing to anybody. Sir George was looking particularly old and grey and troubled as Fielden thrust his way past the butler and entered the library. Sir George's manner was not encouraging, and he curtly demanded to know the meaning of this intrusion.
"I am sorry," Fielden said, "but my business would not wait. Am I to understand that you have struck the Blenheim colt out of the Derby? Is it done?"