The murmur of the crowd was fiercer now, and the sea of white faces turned towards the two horses. Feodora’s jockey was using his whip, flicking his horse’s flank. Jackson, on Marriland, was hitting his mount. Mannering was watching the faces of the two jockeys through his glasses. Simmons’s tense, expectant, hopeful, and Jackson’s grim almost to fierceness. Yard by yard the battle was fought, with the winning-post within a hundred yards — ninety — eighty . . .”

“Neck-and-neck,” muttered Fauntley nervously.

“She’ll do it,” said Mannering. “Gome on, Simmons — another yard — you’re in the lead.”

Fifty yards to go — forty — thirty . . .

Lord Fauntley hopped on one foot, then on the other. Mannering’s eyes were very hard and bright. Simmons was almost home.

“Hey!” bellowed Lord Fauntley. “Hey! Hurray 1 She’s won! Feodora, Feodora . . .” He remembered himself suddenly, and scowled, “Sorry, Mannering — excitement. Hal She won, then, she won! Do well ?”

“Fair,” said Mannering. For some reason, one that he could hardly understand, he was tempted to exaggerate his winnings. “I had a thousand with Blackjack, doubled with Feodora.”

“A thousand? Doubled?” Fauntley choked.

“H’m-h’m,” said Mannering, and laughed.

 

7.00 p.m. “Met that astonishing fellow Mannering,” said Lord Fauntley, as he kissed his wife and dropped into an easy-chair. “Parker — a whisky, with plenty of soda. Astonishing fellow, m’dear — had six thousand on Feodora, and didn’t turn a hair.”

“Six thousand!” gasped Lady Fauntley. “Why, the man must be a — a veritable — mustn’t he ?”

“Seems so, seems so,” admitted Fauntley. “Parker, I want that to-day. Not a hair, m’dear — never seen anyone take it easier than he did. Talked about the Liska diamond hallway through the race. Parker!”

“Soda — and whisky, m’lord,” said Parker.

“Ha! Parker, Mr John Mannering will be here for dinner.”