Our Ten Minutes Story.

Auckland Star, Volume XLII, Issue 209, 2 September 1911, Page 16

Our Ten Minutes Story.

A GAME OF SKILL A ETORT OF THE ASCOT GOLD CtTP. I I (By CYRIL COMLACJ As the express slpwefi down on .■approaching Newmarket Station, Lord Robert Conder, -who had been sitting moodily in the corner of an otherwise empty first-class smoking carriage, sprang to his feet, threw the stump of his cigar out of the. window, smoothed down his black hair in front of the mirror, twisted his dark moustache, and, surveying his handsome face with selfeatisfaetion, donned the straw hat that he took from the rack.

"Bobert. my boy," he said to himself, "if your pocket was as well favoured as your face, what a pleasant world this would be!"

lie frowned, and then burst into a laugh. "After all. there's some fun in using one's wits," he said, as he moved towards the door of the carriage, "and life's (the greatest gamp pi skill in which a man can be engaged." A porter placed his bag on a cab, received a pleasant smile and a substantial tip, and Lord Robert fonder was driven to the Rutland Arms Hotel.

Few people could have credited that this good-looking, well-dressed young man had, as he himself put ft. come to the end of his tether. The second son of a duke who had no more money to squander upon him, he had for the last two or three years lived on his wits. Card playing, and Stock Exchange speculations, with an occasional flutter on the Turf when his information was "good." had enabled him to live well, and keep fairly free from debt, but lately, emboldened by success, he had been plunging hea\ ily. and a* his stakes had increased, his hick had decreased, good money was thrown after 2>ad in a vain hope of recouping himself, until now. on this pleasant early June morning, he knew that his one hope was to back the winner of the race for the Cold Cup. which was to be run at Ascot in a week's time.

And his visit to Newmarket was in connection with the race. He wanted to have a chat with Rebson. the jockey who was riding the horse that seemed certain to start a hot favourite, and he wished to be away from London for a while in order to escape meeting his creditors He knew that his name was not held in the highest respect in Society and financial eirelei, several of the more ohMashioned me.i cut him dead, and he fully realised that were he not a handsome amusing companion and the son of a duke, very few people, indeed, would have anything to do with him.

After lunching at the hotel, he strolled languidly along the High-street, and, after walking for nearly a mile, arrived at a pleasant little house surrounded by a neatly kept garden, a motor-car had just been brought rounJ from the garage, and a woman—scarcely more thae a girl—looking remarkably pretty in a light, summery dress was about to enter it.

Condor hurried up, taking off his hat with a sweep that would have been put down to affectation with most men, but seemed quite natural with him.

"My dear Mrs Rebsen." he cried, "how delighted to see you again; no need to ask you how you are —your face proclaims the answer to the world."

The girl blushed, and her eyes sparkled. She loved admiration, especially from such a man as Lord Robert Conder. Before her marriage she had lived in a Wiltshire village with her father, who was a trainer in a small way. In those days her life had been dull and monotonous; now with a popular and wealthy husband, a beautiful house, a motor-ear always at her beck and call, she was plunging into the gaieties of life, determined 'to make up for the dull days whilst she was still young. "I'm very well, thank you. Lord Robert," she said nervously. "If you've come to see Dick on business, you'll find him in the garden. I've just got to pay a call, but I shall be back in an hour. You'll stop and have tea with us. won't you?" "I should think I would," he cried. "Nothing on earth would tear me away if you're going to give me one of your delightful teas in the garden that I always envy you." Mrs Rebson smiled. Conder assisted her in the car and closed the door.

"Good-bye for the present," he said. "11l go and hunt up that most lucky of men—your husband." He stood bareheaded as the car drove off, then be took out a cigarette.'

"Little fool!" he said softly as he lit it, and passed through a small preen gate into a typical old-fashioned English garden, where roßes hung in clusters from a wail or stood out in great splashes of colour against the bright green ,of the grass, and their scent hung for ever in the nostrils. A small, wiry man, with a clean shaven tanned face sprawled in a chair under a large chestnut tree, rose to his feet as he saw his visitor coming across the lawn. "Glad to see you. Lord Robert," he said, quietly, though his face expressed no great joy. When the old duke, who was now ending his days in the ancient castle in the Midlands, had owned racehorses, Rebfion had been a stable boy, and it was the duke who had given him the chance to succeed in the profession !from which he now derived two or three thousand a year. The jockey had been duly grateful, and both Conder and his elder brother had often received valuable information from him. "I love this garden of yours," said Condor, '"one feels so free from the cares and worries of the world.''

Rebson smiled grimly. "I'll wager that it's not only my garden that has brought you to Newmarket. Lord Robert," he said.

"Well—er—not altogetner." said Lord Robert hastily. "I'm in a bit of a hole, Rebson. I want to have your opinion about Fairplay for the Cup. If you think it's good. I shall have a final flutter on him. Case of saving the sinking ship or going to the merry little bow wows, you know." Rebson lcoked grave. "I'm sorry to hear it's as bad as thsut. sir." he said, "very sorry. If you want my opinion of Fairplay. you shall have it and welcome. The horse was never fitter in bis life. He's in the race at nine stone, and I reckon he will romp away with it."

"Despite cutting up badly in the Great Metropolitan?" said Conder.

"He ran green then," said the jockey, "it was the last half mile finished arm. He was travelling well till then. Look here. Lord Robert, mind you I tell you this in confidence, and I don't know that I should tell you at all if it didn't mean so much to you. We tried F?ir-

play yesterday morning, and lie gave Sunshade seven pounds and a three lengths' betting, *»d the horse that can give Sunshade weight over two and a half miles ought to have his field stone cold long before the finish." Lord Robert Conder seized the jockey's hand.

"Thanks, Rebson," he said, "* thousand thanks. Hi put every shilling I can raise on the horse." Then he changed the conversation, learnt that Rebson was leaving Newmarket early the next morning for two or three days at Gatwiek, the meeting which preceded Ascot, and, when pretty Mrs Rebson returned, he paid her great attention, greatly to the disgust of the jockey, who knew Gender's reputation where women were concerned.

"Good Heavens, Mrs Rebson —I'm sure your husband would not object to your honouring such an old friend as myself by having tea with me. Why should he now ?"

Mrs Rebson might have explained her husband's jealous disposition, but she thought it would sound silly. The idea of having tea at the Rutland Arms with such a good-looking and well-known society man as Lord Robert appealed to her strongly. She did not like him. With a woman's" intuition she read through him. and saw what manner of man he was; but it would be a nasty blow to some of the trainers' wives, who were inclined to patronise her, if she accepted his invitation.

"It's very good of you, if you wait for half an hour I ahall be ready. Shall I order my car?"

She liked the sound of "shall I order my car?" and used it on every conceivable occasion.

"Oh, please don't," said Conder quickly, "let's walk, it's such a lovely afternoon."

"All right." she said, and left him strolling round the garden, breathing in the scent of the roses and smiling lo himself.

He was a most agreeable companion at tea, and after the meal he persuaded her to go for a short run in a car he had hired, and it was growing dusk when he set her down at her house. Mrs Rebson was somewhat uncomfortable, several people had recognised her both at the hotel and in the car. She was not a woman of 'the world, but she had a vague idea that she had done a silly thing in going for that motor drive. The next morning Conder was up at the house soon after breakfast, she saw him for a few minutes and explained a little curtly that she had many tilings lo sec to in the house and that he must e.vr;"-r her.

Conder's face fell. "I believe I offended you," he said, penitent I v.

"Oh. no," she said, hastily, "but I'm busy." ''May I stop and finish my cigar," he said, "perhaps you'll be able to " "Finish your cigar by all means," she said, and with a nod, ran into the house. It took Conder nearly an hour to finish his cigar, and then, as Mrs Rebson did not appear, he walked slowly out of the grounds and back to his hotel for lunch.

"My dear fellow, are you quite mad?"

"No, I'm not mad, you hound, I'm speaking the truth and you know it!" Rebson was facing Lord Conder in his private room at the hoteL He had arrived back at Newmarket late in the evening, to be immediately informed, by a kind friend, of Conder's attention to his wife during his absence. He had interviewed his wife, and she had admilted that the young fellow had paid her great attention. Then, without giving his rage time to cool, he had hurried to the hotel.

"Surely you have no objection to my extending a little courtesy to " "Bah! You tried to steal my wife, and you know it. I know what you are, and I could choke the life out of you for even daring to fix your eyes on my Tittle girl. Choke the life out of you, I tell you," roared the angry jockey, striding up and down the room, "but I've a better way than tnatj my lad, I'll break vou."

"What do you mean?" asked Conder, and there was a note of alarm in his voice.

"I mean," said Robson, speaking in a low rape-choked voice, "that I don't intend Fairplay shall win next Thursday. Yes, I thought it would startle you. my lord. Fairplay won't win and you'll lose your money, that's a better revenge than choking you, you doji. Money hits harder than anything else." He strode towards the door. "Bah," said Conder, with cool insolence, "vou wouldn't dare!"

Rebsen found himself walking back to his house, he had removed his hat to let the wind play on his fevered brow. "I'll show him what I can dare," he muttered, "that settles it. I hate the idea. I've ridden straight all my life and now I'm going to let a lot of people down heavily, and disappoint an owner who has treated me well. But I daren't do it, he says, Til show him what I dare. I'll ruin him if it costs me my license."

There were a dozen runne/s for the Gold Cup, for which Fairplay was a pronounced favourite at 2 to 1, with Matlock, a locally trained horse, who had advanced somewhat sensationally in the betting from 100 to 1 (offered) to a strong second favourite at fives. It was a glorious day. Ascot Heath was looking at its best, the stands and enclosures were packed, and there was quite a crowd round the starting gate to see the horses despatched for the big race of the day.

lleb.-on on the favourite was nervous and ill at ease, he had seen Lord Robert in the paddock and the young fellow had smiled at him. the cold insolent smile that, caused the jockey to half raise his whip to strike him. But even now as he waited for the barrier to rise, keeping Fairplay's head to the 'capes, he found it difficult to bring himself to do what he had sworn to do, to ride to lose. Swish!

Up flew the tapes, there was a plunge forward, a thunder of hoofs, a cutting up of turf, and the race had commenced. A couple of outsiders had shot off clear from the bunch, and were making the running, but racing had not commenced in real earnest yet. Rebson was riding mechanically; it would be such an easy thing to lose. A delayed effort, a touch of the whip at the •wrong moment ....

They were racing now, approaching the turn in the straight for the final stage. Fairplay was travelling smoothly, and up to now he had not called upon him for anv effort.

"I can't do it!" he cried to himself. "Curse the fellow! I must win if I can!" He sat down to ride for all he was worth; but, even as he did so, he realised that his absence of mind had already handicapped him. fie was shut

in on the rails, and had to pull out very wide at the turn. "Here comes the favourite!" came the confident roar from the stands, and then a little cry of dismay followed when it was seen that Rebson was hard at work on bun.

Faiiplay made up the lost ground quickly, awd, getting up on the rails by the new cheap stand, ted the field. "The favourite wins—wins easy!" came the roar. Then came another shout, for a green jacket had suddenly shot out on the other side of the course. "Look at Matlock! Matlock wins!"

And Matlock, catching up the favourite a dozen lengths from the winningpost, shook off a desperate challenge, and went on to win by a length.

Lord Robert Conder dined with his brother that night. "I'm glad for your sake, Bob, that Matlock got it." said the Viscount; "but you were jolly lucky. Rebson ought to hare won; he rode the rottenest race of his life."

Lord Robert puffed out a cloud of smoke. st'-

"I knew he fctf'said, lazily.

"How?" "Ah! there come 9 a little story which I'll tell you. old man, but which you must keep strictly to yourself. As you know, 1 was in a deuce of a mess—baily tradesmen were driving me, and all that 3ort of thing. Well, Matlock's trainer owed me a good turn. I got him a couple of patrons at the commencement of the season. I knew him to be a wily bird, so I went to see him, and found that he considered Matlock a cert for the Cup. He doesn't back heavily, you know, and he doesn't tell people anything, in the ordinary way; so, on his advice. I put a couple of hundred on Matlock at the nice little odds of a hundred to one."

"Lucky devil!" said his brother enviously.

"Yes. I thought I was. Then I heard that Fairplay was the big danger; in fact, the stable were making little or no secret of th. fa<*t that they expected him to romp away with the race. I went and saw Rebson, and had this fconilniud. Then I told him that I should back Fairplay for all I was worth, and followed this up by flirting violently with his wife." "Good Heavens, Bob! What on earth was your game ?" "A game of skill, old man —the game of life. I'd studied Rebson; I know his jealous temperament. I'd studied his wife; I knew she was a fool. I know that people talked and I did everything to make them talk. Rebson came back and played the part of the injured husband. Naturally, he wouldn't love me Thanks to my little scheme, he thought he had a great opportunity- tor revenge by pulling Fairplay, and I did all 1 could to goad him intc it." "You're an awful roiter, you knciv, Bob!" said the Viscount. "If yon weren't my brother. I'd But do you mean to say that Rebson lost deliberately?" "No. He meant to, but couldn't bring himself to do it. His nerves were upset, though, and he recovered himself too late. I'm glad he didn't ride crookedly, for he's a decent chap, and now there won't be any trouble: but I'm afraid I shall never be invited to that old-world garden again."