Not a word had come from Mr. Dashwood since the letter announcing the "bottling" of Giveen, but no news in this case was good news.
Only three days now lay between him and the eventful 13th, and if Dashwood could only keep his prisoner safe for three days more, all would be well. The chance that Garryowen might not win the race never even occurred to French. He was certain; and one of the reasons of his certainty was the opposition that Fate had put in his way. He felt dimly that Fate would never have taken all this trouble to thwart him, would never have put so many obstacles in his path, if she were not sure that when the flag fell the victory of Garryowen would be a certainty.
After breakfast he went out on the Downs to watch the colt taking his exercise.
The length of the City and Suburban course had been marked out on the great flat table-land, and here Garryowen and The Cat, the swiftest thing save Garryowen that French had ever possessed, were now exercising, Andy up on Garryowen and Buck Slane on The Cat. Moriarty, a straw in his mouth, was watching them.
"We'll do it, Moriarty," said French, as he took his stand beside his henchman and fixed his eyes on the distant horses that were being walked back towards him.
"I'm beginnin' to b'lave we will, sorr," replied Moriarty. "We'll just hit the cruck in the middle be the 15th. There's not a bit of overthrainin' about the colt. I've been keepin' him back for the last few days, for a horse all fiddle-strings is no more use on the course than a barber's cat at a concert.
"And did yiz ever hear of thim college chaps, sorr, that goes up for their 'xaminations wid the stuff stickin' out of their heads, and nothin' in their heads but addlement? Faith, Mr. Casey, of Thrinity College, told me of thim when he was down for the shootin'.
"He said he'd seen thim college boys, some of thim, larnin' up their stuff right till they were forenint the 'xaminers, wid their book in their hands till the last minit, and thim sort of chaps, says he, always gets stuck, for their 'rithmetic gets jammed in their Latin, and, when they open their gobs to spake, their g'ography comes out when it's Greek they ought to be answerin'. But you take the boys that aise off before the 'xamination day, says he, and they git through because they're the wise ones. Well, it's just the same wid a horse, sorr! Addle his legs wid overthrainin', and you do for him."
"He's a good starter, he's a good goer, and he's got a jockey that knows him," said French as he watched the horses approaching, "and the jockey's a lot."
"A lot, sorr! It's everything, be the powers! Same as a wife to a man. And what is a wife, sorr, to a man, if she's a decent wife, but a jockey that brings him first past the winnin'-post if he's got the go in him?"