Neither the trainer nor the man addressed as “my Lord” had stirred or spoken a word during this interview, and Captain Lisgard had only once made a movement as though to interrupt it. All three were well enough pleased that the gold-digger had taken the task of imposing silence into his own hands. In all likelihood, he was merely threatening the fellow; and if not, they did not wish to be accessories before the fact to—to any vengeance he might choose to inflict upon the offending tout.
“Well, gentlemen, we have now six clear days wherein to make our arrangements,” said Derrick, “and a good deal may be done in that time. True, but for my stupid conduct, we might have had more time before us; but I have made what amends lies in my power.”
“You believe, then, that yonder rascal will keep his word, do you?” inquired the trainer incredulously.
“I think so, Mr Chifney. I shall certainly keep mine,” returned the other gravely.—
“Master Walter, we had better be moving home.”
At these words, the party separated—like men who have each their work to do, and are glad to be quit of their companions, in order that they may set about it—with no more ceremony than a parting nod. The man in the broad-brim rode away upon a shooting-pony, which awaited him in the rubbing-down house. The jockeys paced slowly towards their stables, each horse now clothed and visored as though it had been merely out for early exercise; while Mr Chifney walked briskly homeward by another route.
Derrick and Captain Lisgard returned together by the way they came, and plodded on for some time in total silence.
“You will put all your money upon the black un now, I fancy, Master Walter?” observed the gold-digger at last, as they drew near the village.
“I have done that already,” replied the young man frankly. “I was thinking rather of hedging when the odds fall.”
“Nay, do not do that, lad,” rejoined the other earnestly; “the thing is a certainty. The King was the only horse that we had to fear. On the contrary, my advice is, 'Put the Pot on.'”