“Why, so it is,” said the doctor. “I thought it was bees.”
“No, the people; and I’ve got to ride in the big race.”
“To be sure, so you have, old chap. Suppose we go and look at the mare.”
Sir Hilton was quite quiet now, and looked at him seriously.
“Oh, my poor darling!” groaned the doctor. “Whatever shall I do? If I got him a dose he wouldn’t be fit to ride. Coming, Hilt?” he said calmly.
“Yes, directly, Jack. Let’s see. I must be quite cool and steady, and not fidget the mare. It’s a safe thing, and as soon as I’ve won this race I’ll be tempted no more, Jack, but settle down with the wife—bless her! She means well, Jack. This coup will make me independent, and balance matters. I shall take my position then, you see, and not feel so poverty-stricken—asking one’s wife for every sov.”
“I see. Come along,” said the doctor. “If I could only get him out into the air. I daren’t give him more drink.”
“Don’t hurry me,” said Sir Hilton, coolly rearranging his silk and pulling up his breeches. “I want you to understand, Jack. I’m doing this for independence, to save dear Lady T.—bless her! A good woman. Always been like a sister to me. Jolly little widow! And to make a pile for you, old man, so that you can marry her, have two children, and live happy ever after like a good boy.”
“Yes, that’s it, Hilt, old man,” cried the doctor, desperately, for the clanging of a bell on the racecourse came faintly to his ear. “Come along, then, and win. Quick!”
He caught his old friend by the arm to get him out at all hazards; but it was like touching a spring which set free a lid in the poor fellow’s brain.