“Are you going to ride to-day?” she asked Lisle.
“Nasmyth insists,” was the answer. “I’m afraid I won’t do him much credit.”
Gladwyne looked up with a slight frown.
“You won’t mind?” Nasmyth asked him. “I’d penalize the horse by nearly a stone.”
“No,” replied Gladwyne, shortly; “there’s no reason why I should object.”
This was true, but he had an unreasoning aversion to facing this opponent. Of late, the Canadian had caused him trouble at almost every turn, and it looked as if he could not even indulge in a morning’s amusement without being plagued with him. He was conscious of a most uncharitable wish that Lisle would come to grief at one of the fences and break his neck. In many ways, this would be a vast relief.
“Would anybody like to make it a sporting match?” Crestwick asked. “The bay’s my fancy; I’m ready to back it.”
Bella tried to catch his eye, but he disregarded this. She, however, saw Lisle glance at Batley and noticed the latter’s smile.
“It isn’t worth while betting on trials,” Batley declared. “Better wait until the meeting.”
The girl was less astonished than gratified. Gladwyne was surprised and disconcerted. He had said nothing to Batley about Crestwick, but he had noticed Lisle’s warning glance, and the other’s prompt acquiescence appeared significant. It looked as if the two had joined hands, and that was what he most dreaded. An almost overpowering rage against the Canadian possessed him. When he attempted to mount, the chestnut gave him trouble by backing and plunging; but the bay was quiet and Nasmyth stood for a few moments by Lisle’s stirrup.