Short Story.

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 9, Issue 78, 30 September 1898, Page 2 (Supplement)

Short Story.

A Tale of the Turf.

By DALRYMPLE BELGRAVE.

Author of “Luck at the Diamond Fields,” “ Turf and Veldt,” “ A Great Turf Fraud,” &c., &c.

(All Rights Reserved.)

Phil Caldicot sat in a carriage in the Underground Railway, thinking over his position, whcli was not a very satsfactory one. He was returning from a visit to his stockbrokers, and he realised that it was the last visit on the same errand that he would ever pay them. He had just succeeded in getting to the end of his capital. Income three hundred a year, expenditure about five hundred a year, meant many of these visits. What after all was a couple of hundred pounds ? Only about eight pounds a year, he would argue ; and he would gaily go into the City, and fool himself quite the business man.

When these proceedings began to make rather a hole in his income he took to reinvesting his money so as to get a larger interest for it. After these reinvestments there were always nice little sums of odd money that could not be invested. These sums he could either spend with a light heart or he could invest them in speculations that seemed even more hazardous than those he made in the City—namely, in backing horses. He began to take a. good deal of interest in racing just at the time when taking such an interest was likely to bo most fatal to him. His visits to the City became more and more frequent. His invested capital grew smaller and smaller, and, like the flame on the top of a stick, it at last seemed to give a jump into the air and disappear into space. One morning he found himself with a cheque for one hundred pounds ten and sixpence, and no moneys invested anywhere.

He was a barrister, but his professional income had varied from live to six pounds per annum for prosecuting prisoners at his county sessions, while his •annual professional expenditure varied from fifty to sixty pounds a year, which he spent in going circuit, and having chambers in the Temple. It was a comfort to think that he could save that amount by not going circuit, and giving up his chambers. But then that consolation Avas dashed by the reflection that as he would have no income to save that sum of money out of, he would not be much benefited by his economy. The more he thought of his position the less he liked it; and he was so wrapt up in his unpleasant train of thoughts that he paid very little heed to where he was.

“ Well, mind you are at Barmouth,” somebody said almost in his ear, and oddly enough these Avords just fitted in Avith his thoughts. Barmouth races were in tAVo days’ time, and he had arranged to stay with a friend who lived near, and go to them. The words were spoken by a little hard-faced man, who, though *he was dressed rather poorly, looked obviously a gentleman. Beside him Avas a fat smooth-faced young man Avith a peculiarly innocent and simple expression of countenance. The lavo had been whispering together very earnestly, and the elder seemed to be about to get out at the next station.

“ Ay, and lot us hope that we will do a good sti’oke of business there,” he added. “ You will find my dodge Avill make ’em open their mouths about ‘ Beggarman.’ Gyp Stanley is sure to bo there, and clever though he is, I say he is just the sort to rise to our fly.” “ Well, good-bye till after the meeting, for we mustn’t be pals there,” ansAvered the young man.

“ Yes, Master Gyp found out about the trial, and let his patrons have the information straight enough. They shall have something else from him at Barmouth,” said the other, as they shook hands.

Phil Caldicot paid very little attention to this conversation. He was Avondering whether or no ho should go to Barmonth. It was a jolly meeting, and he was sure to have a pleasant time of it in the country house whore ho was going to stay ; but for a man Avith his last hundred pounds in his pocket, and a very indistinct notion as to Avhere any more money was to come from, a racecourse was the most dangerous place he could visit. Then at his friend Tom Western’s house he would be certain to meet Jenny Western, his friend’s sister. If he had only met her some years before, when he had not begun to nibble at his capital, or Avaste the best years of his life in idling, things might have been very different, but he had only met her for the first time last winter,'and for the future the less ho saw of her the better.

He had fallen in love with her, but he had no right to ask her to share in the long, uphill fight lie would have to wage against fortune before he could hope to make up for the folly of his last eight years. It would have been better for him. he thought, if he had spent his money more recklessly than he had done instead of wasting so much time in coming to his last hundred pounds. If he had been ruined years before he might have been in a better position than he was that day. At all events lie would have been more accustomed to being without money. As it was, he ought to let the Westerns know that he was a 'pauper, and would have to leave the country and try and earn a living in some distant colony. Indeed, he ougnt at once to telegraph to them to say that he could not stay with them for the Barmouth races.

He got out at Charing Cross, and turned his stops to the nearest post office. At tlie corner of Yilliers-street, however, he almost ran into the arms of a man whom he wanted to meet—an old Cambridge friend, who had just come back from the Transvaal with, it was said, a large fortune.

Phil felt in better spirits as soon as he saw him. for the idea ocurred to him at once that the country where his friend had made so much money would bo just the place for him. He found his friend very pleased to see him. and ready to listen to him and give him advice. He took a more cheerful view of the case than Phil did—as men are apt to do when they hear of their friends’ troubles. “You have a hundred pounds—why. my dear fellow, three years ago I had the greatest trouble to raise that sum of money to get out to South Africa, and deuced lucky I thought myself when I got it.” “Then you advise me to follow your example and go out there,” said Phil cheerfully. “No, old chap, candidly I don’t. Things are pretty bad out there, and most of the people who have made their money have cleared out of the country. I know a bettor gold mine than any on the Wilwaterstraud fields. Go to Barmouth.” - -

“What, to find a gold mine ?” asked Phil.

“No, but to find a woman who owns one, and, what is a good deal bettor, half a million invested in the three per cents. She started a hotel at Johannesburg—went in for claims and shares—made a pot of money—cleared out at the right time, and as she was a Barmouth girl, and was a barmaid in a hotel there, she took a fancy to buy a place near there. She writes to me that the people are stuck up and stupid and won’t call, and that she is dull and hates England. She is a widow. Her husband is dead all right, and I fancy she would marry you like a shot if you asked her.” Phil shook his head, for ho was not at all taken with the idea, and he thought of Jenny Western. “Honestly, old fellow, It is worth thinking of. She isn’t half a bad sort, and she will be snapped up as soon as people get to know all about her coin. As it is it’s a capital chance for you, and if you go to Barmouth County Ball tomorrow night yon will meet a fat, goodlooking woman with big black eyes and covered with diamonds. She will have about six months of the yield of the South African diamond mines on her.” “I don’t care about the enterprise,” said Phil. “Curious, though, that you should mention it. for I am just going to telegraph to Western, who was at Trinity with us, who lives near there, to say that I won’t come to him.” “Western is going to the ball, I happen to know, for there is a fellow I met at my club, Ribstone, of the Stock Exchange, who is going to stay with him. Ribstone is going to marry Western’s sister, so they say. 1 have relations near there, and hear all the gossip of the place.” “I don’t believe she would ever think of marrying that fellow,” said Phil. But he remembered that Ribstone had been a good deal with the Westerns when they had been in town in the early part of the season.

“Well, they say it is a settled thins. Girls do marry those sort of follows, and quite right too. There is nothing like money, and plenty of it ; so take my tip and go in for the widow. I forgot. Mullet is her name —Kitty Mullet—and a good sort she is too. Good-hye, and good luck. Mind you go to Barmouth,” said his friend, as he jumped into a cab. mil told himself that it was all nonsense about Jenny being engaged to Ribstone, but for all that ho did not disbelieve it quite. At all events ho would go there and see, and if she were—well, by Jove, he would go in for the widow. Mind you, go to Barmouth,” that is what the man said at the train —and now the other echoed the very same words—well, he would go and see what came of it. Tom Western was the owner of an old place that had belonged to his family for generations, and had a property which brought him in about fifteen hundred a year. He was unmarried, and his sister Jenny acted as mistress of his house. She knew, however, that her tenure was a very insecure one. as her brother was sure to marry. Her-father had been rather an extravagant man, and had left his daughter very little, the property being strictly entailed. As the mistress of a country' house, Jenny had been accustomed to hold a certain.position, to entertain guests, to have horses and carriages, and, generally, to have Hu* command of a good deal of her brother’s income, almost as much as if she shared it.

Phil .thought to himself as he sat down to dinner at Western Hall the day he arrived there that ffiie was the last girl who could be expected to marry a poor man. None the less, he was extremely angry with her, and ho watched her talking .away to Mr. Ribstone and drawing him out on the subject on which ho liked best to talk—namely, the things that he OAvued and the things he intended to biiy, his yacht, his horses in training at Newmarket, his place on the Thames, and his hunting-box in Leicestershire, and the country seat near Barmouth he had looked at and hoped to buy. All his money was new, and he had seen it made, but it had not been made by his brains, but by his father, who had left him everything. Phil scowled across the table.'and the daughter of the clergyman of the village, whom he had taken in to dinner, found him anything but a pleasant companion. After the ladies had left he did not add much to the pleasure of the evening, for ho did his best to pick a quajrrel with Air. Ribstone, and, though he drank a deal of Avine, it did not, make him any pleasanter a companion. Mr. Ribstone talked about racing and his horses and his bets. He had some horses at Newmarket, and bet very heavily. His enemies said, though he was so rich he Avas ready to do any dirty trick to win money, and that he Avas as much of a knave as Avas compatible with his being almost a fool. Ho seemed to be particularly proud of having backed the favourite for the Cambridgeshire, which Avas to be run for next Aveek, for a large sum of money, before the oAA’iier had got his commission on.

“ I think it is infenially bad form for any man to employ touts to watch another man’s horses, and that it is particularly dishonourable for an owner to do so.” said Phil. “I heard about the trial half-an-hour after it was run, and when old Hardiman tried to back it he found I had the cream of the market. You see I knew he’d run his horse, so I wasn’t afraid to forestall him,” said Ribstone,

“ Perhaps your opinion about invners would be move valuable if you bad ever owned a racehorse yourself,” answered Mr. Ribstone with a sneer that made Phil lons to throw a glass of wine in his face. Tom Western put a stop to any more quarrelling by suggesting (hat if they would have no more wine they had better join the ladies as they would have to start, soon for the ball. Before they started Phil had a little spar with Jenny. “ I hear you have a great addition to the neighbourhood in the shape of a golden widow.” “ I don’t think she is much of an addition—she is atrociously vulgar, and no one will call on her,” Jenny answered, with a good deal of spite and bitterness in her voice.

“ I heard that she was pleasant and good-natured, and I should say that she would be a great catch for any one ; let us see, with the exception of Tom, I don’t think you have any bachelor squires.” “ remaps she may he preyed upon by some dissipated younger son who has ! no self-respect, and is too idle to work 1 for a living,” answered Jenny viciously. “ I don’t think it is worse for a man to marry for money than for a woman,” said Phil. “ A man, if he has any courage in him, will work for bis living, and a woman can’t; but some men are too contemptible to work,” Jenny answered with an angry flush in her face. Tom Western interrupted them to say that the carriage was at the door, and Phil had little more to say till they arrived at the ball, j (To be concluded