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[PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.] A DEAD CERTAINTY, By NAT GOULD, Author of "The Gentleman Rider," "The Pace That Kills," Racecourse and Battlefield," "The Dark Horse," "The Double Event," &c., &c. [COPYRIGHT.] SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. CHAPTERS 1. & II.—A young and handsome gm, Patricia Royston, commonly called "Pat," is in charge of a friend of her mother's, Miss Helen W oodruff. They are staying at Bettws-y-Coed, where "Pat" makes the acquaintance of Mr. Arthur Dunbar, a Yorkshire squire of sporting proclivities, whilst salmon fishing. Dunbar resolves to improve the acquaintance. CKAPTEBS HI. & IV.—Pat and her companion visit Llandudno, and are followed by Uunbar. They there meet Maud Bexley and her brother Hector. Maud has had some ac- quaintance with Dunbar, and still loves him, though on his part it was only a flirtation. Maud resolves to win him at all costs, and asks her brother to help her in her task. Hector is a gambler, and Maud helps him to money. In the meantime Dunbar is summoned to return to his country house in Yorkshire on the report that his horses, especially one Whirlwind, a favourite racehorse, are "coughing." CHAPTER V.—MIDDLEHAM. Many racing men who know their JNewmarKet like a book have no idea what Middleham, the great Yorkshire training centre, is like; and probably they would not be at all pleased with it as a preparation ground for thoroughbreds. And yet some of the best horses England has ever had were trained at Middleham. Many trainers of note have lived there, and the North Country folk generally place faith in anything hailing from this quarter. At first sight Middleham and its moors look barren and uninteresting, but a stay in the district will speedily dispel the idea that there is very little to be seen. Round Middleham may be found some of the most charming and pic- turesque scenery in Yorkshire, if only the visitor will take the trouble to search it out. The Mid- dleham air is invigorating and bracing, acting as a tonic on the system, and giving life and health with every breath inhaled. Open wide your mouth, eyes and lungs, and draw in deep draughts of Middleham air, and then throw physic to the dogs. A walk on the moors cannot fail to have a bracing effect. How different the scene from the headquarters of the Turf at Newmarket-where men seem to toil morning, noon and night, and never have a minute to spare, trying to crowd the work of two days into a spell of eight or nine hours. The stone walls in the Middleham district re- mind one of the High Peak of Derbyshire, and there is a great similarity in the invigorating atmosphere. Moors are generally supposed to be uninteresting except to shooting men, and such like folk, but the Middleham moors and their surroundings ought to please the most captious critic. It is a mystery how the ailments horses are heir to find anything to work upon at Middleham, and yet stables there are not free from occasional visitations of some dire complaint which cause the trainers weeks of anxiety and the owners many pounds. Gilbert Honey was one of the most careful trainers at Middleham, and seldom had much the matter with his horses. One of the old-fashioned school, he believed in plenty of fresh air for his horses, indoors and out, and did not coddle them up, afraid of the hair on their precious skins being ruffled by a slight breeze. He gave horses long, strong work, and plenty of it, when he thought they could stand it, and many a rousing gallop had he brought off on the moors. The trainer's house was an old-fashioned build- ing, the stables being at the rear and close under the walls of Middleham Castle; in fact, they were almost part and parcel of the castle. The boxes were comfortable but out of date, the stone walls looking well-nigh as ancient as those of the castle at the far end of the yard. Although out of date they were quite as well adapted for racehorses as more modern structures, and Gilbert Honey would not have left the Glen stables, as they were called, for the most fashion- able racing establishment in the land. He was a typical Yorkshireman, and had the accent peculiar to the speech of the men of the county of broad acres; but this only seemed to add emphasis to his remarks. His was not a dialect needing translation to a Southerner, but merely the "hall mark" denoting the county of his birth. When Arthur Dunbar and Gilbert Honey ar- rived at The Glen, Martin Mill was standing at the gate ready to greet them, and Mrs. Honey was inside, superintending the loading of a large table, covered with a snow-white cloth, with true' Yorkshire fare. Glad to see you, Mr. Dunbar," said Mill, and I hope we shall be able to cope with this little difficulty in the stables." Martin Mill was fond of using the expression "little difficulty." and applied it indiscriminately to events of various importance. You have got over many 'little difficulties' in your time," said Arthur. Let us hope you will see your way out of this, which at present seems aerious. Mrs. Honey was just the woman for a trainer's wife. Having no children of her own, she looked after the stable lads like a mother, and kept them well in hand. The Glen stable lads were always noted for their good behaviour, and their lan- guage was far less lurid than is generally asso- ciated with them. It was considered a stroke of good luck to get a lad apprenticed to Gilbert Honey. Not only was he taught the art of riding, but his moral welfare was looked after by Mrs. Honey. The Glen lads were often seen at the picturesque Coverham Church, in the church- yard of which many turf celebrities are buried. In this quiet retreat lies resting John Osborne the elder-father of John Osborne of the present generation. Henry Grimshaw's grave is also here, and the owners of many a good horse rest at peace within the boundary walls. The Cover, a famous trout stream, flows hard by, of which Charles Kingsley wrote, of the glen through which it winds, that delicious glen where, while wading up beneath the ash-fringed crags of lime- stone. the ring ouzel (too wild it seemed, to be afraid of man) hopped down fearlessly to feed upon the strar.a." Many a good rider has come out of the Glen stables, and the popular north country jockey, James Regan, on whom Arthur Dunbar had first claim, hailed from Middleham, and had learned how to ride from Gilbert Honey. By no means a crack rider himself, Gilbert Honey had the happy knack of teaching others much that he was unable to accomplish himself. The trainer was a man possessed of great patience, and he never swerved from what he considered the path of duty. He never gave up hopes of getting a race out of a horse until the animal had proved himself unmistakably bad. He kept on trying where other men would have said in a fit of spleen, Get rid of him, sir, he's no good," and then found out afterwards the "cast-off" turned out a real good one. When Arthur Dunbar saw Whirlwind the ex- pression on his face denoted how keen was his disappointment. Poor Whirlwind seemed hardly able to stand up and support his shrunken body, aad it was evident his appetite had been poor for some considerable time. His coat was dull and staring, and his eyes heavy and melancholy, no life in them at all. He's in a bad way," said Arthur. Will he pull through 1" Yes, he ll get over it now," said Gilbert Honey confidently. I did not tell you how bad he was when I wrote. I thought he would die. I sat up with him four nights, and seldom left him, and then never alone. It has been a tough fight, but the old chap will pull through." It will be a long time before he is fit to race," said Mill. "If he gets through the winter all right he'll be as good a horse as ever he was in the spring," said the trainer. How are the other horses?" asked Arthur. "Nothing great," said the trainer. I have had a very anxious time with them. Still I would rather have the lot down at one time and get it over, and not have this trouble hanging about for months." A tour of inspection of the stables soon con- vinced Arthur Dunbar he would have to exercise patience, and wait until next season before ho could hope to race with any prospect of success. This was hard lines when he had such an estab- lishment to keep up and not too much money to spare. He was, however, determined to hang on," and land a coup with which to clear off all his losses. After a capital dinner, which Arthur Dunbar enjoyed thoroughly, as he always did when Mrs. Honey took matters in hand, they went into the garden to smoke. Smoking has a soothing effect upon mankind, if not carried to excess, and under the influence of a good cigar Arthur Dunbar commenced to take a more rosy view of the state of affairs at the Glen. How long do you think it will take to get Whirlwind right?" asked Arthur. If all goes on well he ought to be well over it and doing good work in six months' time," said the trainer. "Come, that's not so bad," said Martin Mill. There's no chance for the Cesarewitch, but as he is such a sticker you might do worse than try and win the Chester Cup with him. That would be a good start for the year, and we could win & stiffish sum over it." I don't much like Chester," said Arthur. "It is too much on the bend." That will suit Whirlwind," said Gilbert Honey, he likes a round course, and he's a rare one for coming sharp round on the rail." The mere mention of Chester recalled memories of Pat Royston at Llandudno, and for a few minutes Arthur was silent and meditating, as he watched the smoke from his cigar curling up in circles in the still night air. Well, what do you think of it? Shall it be the Chester Cup?" said Martin Mill. It is a long way to look ahead," said Arthur. Nothing like it," replied Mill. I like to have something definitely settled, and then I can put the knowing men on the wrong track." Gilbert Honey smiled. He knew what an adept the commissioner was for laying a false scent which the many followed for the benefit of the few. I will leave it to Honey," said Arthur. If he thinks Chester would suit Whirlwind, so be it." Then my advice is to wait and see how the horse progresses, and then if I can wind him up ready for the Chester Cup we'll go in and win. He's sure to get a nice weight because some of his running has been very bad-so bad I could not understand it. until he fell ill. That accounted for it at once, and I knew the trouble had been brewing some time. After all, this sickness in 'I' the stable may turn out a good thing, and to our advantage. "How so?" asked Arthur. "Well, you see it will have taken at least a stone off Whirlwind's weight, and through no fault of ours, or through running 'byes.' Had he left off in form he would have got 8-7 in such a race as the Chester Cup. Now he will get about a stone less. That I should regard as a dead certainty,' if the horse was at his best." "Yes. it would be a real cood thine-" said Mill, rubbing his hands together and smiling blandly. "And you are as fond of being in at a good thing as any man of my acquaintance," said Arthur. You cannot blame me for that," was the reply. Not at all. I think it a highly commendable trait in your character," said Arthur, laughing. And at 7-7 Regan would be able to ride if he wasted a trifle. What does he scale now?" "About 8st. said the trainer. I haven't seen Regan for a long time," said Arthur. Where is he?" "At home now, I believe," said the trainer, he has had a lot of mounts this season. Owners are only too glad to put him up when they get the chance." He's a steady-going fellow," said Arthur. And thoroughly reliable," added the trainer. And rides to orders. I like a man who does that," said Mill. They smoked on for a time in silence, enjoying the cool air and the far-reaching landscape stretched out before them. I hope you enjoyed yourself in Wales," said Mill to Arthur. Oh yes, I had a very pleasant time. Found it deuced slow at first, but I had some decent salmon fishing, and met some very nice people. It is lovely scenery all about Bettws-y-Coed, but I give me Middleham with its pure fresh air, glorious moors, stone walls, and jolly good folk," he replied. Gilbert Honey's eyes glistened with pleasure as he heard Arthur Dunbar praise Middleham, the home of his youth and the dearest spot on earth to him. The trainer loved Middleham, and every nook and corner for miles around was familiar to him. He was well known in Richmond, about a dozen miles away, his form was familiar at Leyburn, Aysgarth, and Ashgill; and at Northallerton Gilbert Honey was well respected. He had traversed hundreds of times the High Moor, and the Low Moor, where Spigot Lodge nestles near the large plantation, and he had tramped over Penhill, one of the most familiar spots to all men of the North Riding. The Glen trainer could talk for hours about Middleham and the famous horses that had been trained there. He related how the first four horses in the Leger of 1821, won by Theodore, were trained by Croft at Middleham. He had yarns of much interest about Dr. Syntax, Jack Spigot. Van Tromp and the Flying Dutchman. He would relate how Thomas Dawson, one of the most famous of a family of great trainers, won splendid victories with Jonathan Wild, Mark Tapley, Inheritress, Lightning, and Priestess. Ellington aud Pretender were names he re- called with delight. He had seen Middleham under various aspects, and had weathered storms and snows such as are only known in these parts. He had had to cut his way through the deep snow from Middleham to Ashgill to get supplies, and he had seen the drifts against the stone walls the height of a tall man. The moors, so peaceful on this calm, still night, he had traversed in the teeth of blinding storms, and seen them covered with a white mantle of dazzling snow, slow to melt on account of its depth. And he loved Middleham in all its phases, and his heart was glad when he heard Arthur Dunbar, the most generous of employers, a man he would go through fire and water for, praise up the old place, and say he was glad to be there again, at the Glen. I CHAPTER VI.—GLEN ROYAL. From the trainer's quarters at Middleham Arthur Dunbar proceeded to his home at Glen Royal, and he did not seem enthusiastic about arriving there. He had been away for six weeks, and during the last week of his stay at Bettws-y-Coed and Llan- dudno his life had been changed. He could not banish the image of Pat Rovston from his mind, nor had he any particular desire to do so. He liked the freedom of Pat's manner and the honest, straightforward way in which she spoke. He felt that in many things they were congenial spirits. She loved horses, so did he. She was fond of sport, angling especially, and that was one of his favourite pursuits. He had never met a girl before who had so taken his fancy as Pat Royston. Glen Royal would be solitary when he arrived there. True, the servants were devoted to him and the old place, but he could not talk to them as equals, although he was affable, not to say free and easy, in their presence. How much better it would be if Pat Royston had been at Glen Royal to greet him. Arriving at his ancestral home he met with the usual hearty and respectful welcome. The housekeeper, Mrs. Honey, a sister-in-law of his trainer, was a very capable woman, and had been in the service of the Dunbars for many years. She exercised quite a paternal authority over Arthur Dunbar, and instead of being offended when she gave him advice, he was amused, and sometimes followed it. He knew Mrs. Honey was only anxious for his welfare, and that every- thing she said was well meant, and not intended to be disrespectful. She always called him Master Arthur," and felt she had a right to do so, having nursed him when a child and acted as a mother towards him when Mrs. Dunbar died. The good woman always made great prepara- tions for Master Arthur's home-coming, when he had been away any considerable time. She had the house turned out from top to bottom, and the under-servants knew what it was all for and said, The master is coming back." Not a room was neglected, and Mrs. Honey, to see there was no shirking, attended to the arrangements her- self. "Drat the girls!" she would say. "They are not half what they used to be in my young days," and she was right. So when Arthur Dunbar arrived home, and had refreshed the inner man, Mrs. Honey, as was her wont, came and related to him any im- portant matters that had occurred during his absence. Arthur Dunbar did not wish to hear the minor details as to the management at Glen Royal, but he good-naturedly listened to what Mrs. Honey had to say. On the present occasion, however, he felt depressed and out of sorts, and Glen Royal seemed lonely and unsociable. So when Mrs. Honey had rambled on for some time she could not fail to notice his abstraction, and thought to herself, "I don't believe he's heard a word of it, but I have done my duty and told him. "I'm afraid you are tired, Master Arthur," she said: "so I won't worry you any longer about the domestic affairs of Glen Royal. What I have to say will keep, but I do think you ought to speak to Thomas about flirting with the housemaids; he has disorganised them, and caused no end of mis- chief and iealousv." "Thomas shall go, said Arthur. "Dear me, no, Master Arthur," said Mrs. Honey, "Thomas go! Why, he's the best of the whole lot." "Then why do you complain about him?" "It's not Thomas I complain about; it's his flirtations," said Mrs. Honey. "Thomas is responsible for his own flirtations, surely said Arthur, amused in spite of himself. "Well, yes he is," replied Mrs. Honey, "and I must say in his favour he receives plenty of en- couragement both from Mary Ann and Betsy." "Then Mary Ann and Betsy had better go and leave the susceptible Thomas in peace," said Arthur—comically serious, for he knew Mrs. Honey's ways. "I couldn't part with either of them," said Mrs. Honey; "they are both very good servants." "Perhaps Thomas had better marry one of them," said Arthur. "How would that do away with the difficulty?" "And a deal of good Thomas would be, married to either Mary Ann or Betsy," said Mrs, Honey, contemptuously. "Then you are not a great believer in matri- mony?" said Arthur. "No, Master Arthur," she replied emphatically. "After my experience with Honey I can't say I am." He laughed as he thought of the different views held of the situation by Gilbert Honev and his sister-in-law. The trainer always declared Martha Honey had talked his brother into an early grave, and Mrs. Honey regarded it as a merciful and wise dispensation of Providence when her husband was taken away and she was left in peace. "I know what you are laughing at," she said, "but Gilbert Honey is afraid to speak the truth. If he did he would say I had much to be thankful for when I became a widow." "That's not kind of you," said Arthur. "It's true," was the reply. "Then you would not advise me to marry, and bring a wife to Glen Royal," said Arthur, some- what anxiously. The reply was unexpected, for Mrs. Honey said sharply: "I think it would be the best possible thing could happen you, Master Arthur-if you met the right young lady." "Then in my case you are in favour of matri- mony," he said with a laugh. "Pray, why am I an exception to your general rule?" "I don't know as I have any general rule," she said, "but I do think if you married well you would be happier. It would make a difference to me, of course; but yon are my first consideration." "If I did marry you would remain here, Mrs. Honey," he said quickly. "And I would do my best to please your wife," she said. "That I am sure you would," was the reply. "But you need not be alarmed on that score yet. I am not at all likely to marry—at present." "I'm not so sure of that," thought Mrs. Honey, who noted several symptoms pointing in that direc- tion. "I think I shall run up to Scarborough to- night," said Arthur. A shadow passed over the housekeeper's face as she thought: "The old home is dull for him. Yes, it will be all for the best if he marries a good woman." Then she said to him "You had better have a rest after your journey. You can go there in the morning." He gave an impatient gesture and said: "No—I'll go to-night. I feel awfully dull here. The place is too big for a bachelor like me. I've & good mind to get rid of it." This half to him- self but Mrs. Honey heard it. "Master Arthur, you can't be serious," she said, and her voice shook. "You'd never so much as think of selling Glen Royal." Her words and tone struck the right chord in him. He felt ashamed of himself for this petty display of temper. He looked at Mrs. Honey and i saw the tears in her eyes. If his old nurse and housekeeper loved the place so well what ought he to do?—think a thousand times more of Glen Royal. "Nurse, you're a good sort," said Arthur. "No, you need never be afraid I shall sell Glen Royal while I have a 'feather to fly with.' The old familiar "Nurse" affected Mrs. Honey strangely. He seldom called her by that name, but when he did her heart went out to him. "Thats right, Master Arthur, she said cheer- fully. "That's spoken like a Dunbar, and one of the best of them." "One of the weakest," he replied. "Not at all," she said, confidently. "If ever you are put to the test you will prove yourself as brave and noble a man as any of them." "I hope I shall not be put to the test," he said, laughing, "or I might shatter the faith you have in me. "That you will never do whatever happens," was her reply. Arthur Dunbar changed his mind, and remained at Glen Royal for the night, much to the worthy housekeeper's delight. Next morning, however, he went away early, and drove to Scarborough, a distance of from eight to ten miles. He was well known at the Queen of Yorkshire watering places, and generally found plenty of friends and amuse- ment there. The season, however, was on the wane, and even Scarborough looked dull to him. He went on to the Spar and found very few people about, so he sat down near the sea. wall and looked out across the ocean. The tide was in, and the wind fresh, and the waves dashed up against the stones, sending up showers of spray and foam. He wished he was back at Llandudno, and talking to Pat Royston. "Such a jolly girl," he thought. "Drives all melancholy thoughts away, the mere sight of her." He was about to get up from his seat and re- sume his walk when a voice said: "You look a bit hipped, old fellow. Where the deuce have you been all this time? Scores of girls have been bewailing your absence." Arthur Dunbar turned round to the speaker and said: "You here, Hawfinch? I heard you were hunt- ing grizzly bears in the Rockies; or had gone to Patagonia or some other outlandish place." "Wrong—quite wrong," said Harry Hawfinch. "I have done 'em all. At present I'm in search of some new sensation." "Then take a header off this wall into the sea," said Arthur. "I'll rescue you, or attempt it, and then you can suggest I receive a medal for my conduct." "The attempt might fail," said Hawfinch; "in which case the consequences to me would be disastrous, and you would be put to the un- pleasant necessity of attending my obsequies. No, my boy, you must suggest something a trifle more reasonable. "Come and have luncheon with me?" said Arthur. "I will!" replied Harry Hawfinch. "That cer- tainly is within the bounds of reason." Arthur Dunbar glanced at his watch and saw it was close upon one o'clock. They went to the Grand Hotel and had an en- joyable repast. "Much better than diving off sea walls," said Harry. "Where have you been all this season? I It seems a deuce of a time since I saw you." "I have been fishing in Wales. Who do you think I met at Llandudno?" "Give it up. I have had too good a luncheon to go in for conundrums," said Harry. "Hector Bexley and his sister." "You don't say so. I wondered where^hey were. He's a shady lot-Bexley. You were on very good terms with his sister at one time. She is a hand- some girl." "Yes, she is fairly good looking," said Arthur. "I fancy neither of them was overjoyed at seeing me. They happened to be with some people I know, so I went up to them. Have you heard much about Bexley of late?" asked Arthur. "I hear he is in very low water, and owes a heap of gambling debts. At the races here the other day one or two 'bookies' asked me where he could be found." "He'll get into trouble one of these days," said Arthur. "I am sorry for his mother." "And his sister?" queried Harry. "Yes, and his sister-although I think she will not deserve much sympathy, or expect it," said Arthur. I was a trifle 'gone' in that direction myself at one time," said Hawfinch, "but you cut mo out dead. By Jove, you made the running strong that season; many people thought you were engaged to her." "They were mistaken, and never had cause to think so," was the reply. "Sore subject with him," thought Hawfinch. "I'll drop it. Are you going back to Glen Royal to-night?" he asked. "If you will come with me," said Arthur. "It is lonely there by one's self." "Then I'll take compassion on you and come," said Harry. Harry Hawfinch was a well-to-do young man, who would have been a far more useful member of society if he had had to work for his living. He was not a rich man, but had a sufficient income to } enable him to live comfortably without work. j He was fond of racing, and indulged in a "mild nutter" when he knew, or thought he knew, "anything good." His father was a neighbour of Arthur Dunbar's, but he was a crotchetty man, and not one to get on well with his sons, of whom he had four. Harry Hawfinch was the third son and, luckily for him, the favourite of Squire Hawfinch's maiden sister. This lady had taken Harry Hawfinch under her protection from an early age, and educated him at her own ex- pense. Squire Hawfinch was selfish enough to be glad one of his four sons had been taken off his hands. When Miss Hawfinch died she left the whole of her fortune to her favourite nephew, much to the disgust of Harry's brothers, who had expected a share each. Squire Hawfinch, too, felt aggrieved he was not mentioned in the will, called it base ingratitude, and so forth—though why, it would have been hard to discover. So Harry Hawfinch found it advisable not to remain under the paternal roof, and set up a small establishment of his own at Scarborough. He had known Arthur Dunbar ever since they were lads together at school, and although they were widely dissimilar in force of character, still I they were very good friends. They had onel thing in common. Both were fond of racing, and most healthy and manly sports. Harry Hawfinch was seldom in a serious mood, I and when he did look solemn and in deep thought, Arthur Dunbar found him a fit subject upon which to vent a fund of humour. "You are positively funny when you are seri- ous," Arthur had said to him, and Harry replied "It is one of my misfortunes that when I am in trouble I merely provoke the amusement of my friends. "Poor fellow!" said Arthur, laughing. "But you do not look a deserving object for pity or even sympathy." Mrs. Honey was rather partial to Harry Haw- finch, so when he came home with Arthur Dun- bar, she was pleased her young master had a lively companion. (To be continued.) 40.

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