‘THE BLACK CAT.'

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XII, Issue XX, 19 May 1894, Page 471

‘THE BLACK CAT.'

IT was in 1890 that Jack Seer and I got into an early express bound for Lincoln, on the first day of the flat racing season. We had hoped for a smoking compartment to on reel res, bntthe best we could find was one with a single occupant, a small man mnffled np in mgs and wraps, to say nothing of a cap with flaps which left little of his features, bar the tip of his nose, to be seen. The guard's whistle had just sounded, and we thought ourselves safe from further intrusion when the door was flung open. A large heavy man tumbled in, stumbling over onr lege, and nearly running his head through the opposite window. He got safely anchored, at length, in the corner opposite Jack, where he sat puffing and panting in efforts to recover his wind.

Meanwhile Seers and I had lit our pipes, whilst the redhot end of a cigar glowed amidst the wraps that enshrouded the small man in the fourth corner.

‘ This is too much !’ suddenly exclaimed the heavy man, coughing violently. * I must beg of you, gentlemen, not to smoke till the next stoppage, where I can get out.’ Jack and I glanced at one another, and I could see his lips form the word •cool.’ ‘Sorry,’ sir,’ he said aloud. * But this, as you may perceive, is a smoking carriage. There is no stop for a considerable time, and the most my friend and I can do for you is not to refill our pipes till yon have left.’

On this our new acquaintance passed a few uncomplimentary remarks, and then, throwing himself back in his corner, glared at us savagely. He was a gray haired man, middle-aged, and with a red-hot complexion. Suddenly he attacked us on a fresh point. * What have you in that hamper ?’ he exclaimed, pointing his bamboo at a wicker basket, which contained a trifling present to our trainer. ‘ It’s a dog, I’m certain 1 What business have you to bring the animal in here, sir? I hate pet animals 1’ * Well!’ exclaimed Jack, when he had recovered from the shock of this sudden accusation. ‘ I don’t know why I should trouble to answer you, but it may save discussion to say that that basket does not hold a dog.’ At that moment a prolonged ‘m-eew’ seemed to proceed from the very hamper in question. ‘ Don’t prevaricate, sir !’ stormed the irate stranger. ‘lf not a dog it is a cat. How dare you bring it into the carriage !’ Another feline cry, this time from just under where he sat, made him leap to his feet, and commence rummaging with his bamboo under the seats and between the Gladstone bags, which belonged to Jack and me. We could hear the cat spit and swear, and our red-faced friend, with his body half under the seats, raised clouds of dust in his endeavours to dislodge the brute. It was no good, and presently he desisted. • But it’s there, though I can’t get at the beast!’ he panted. * Sir, I beg your pardon for thinking it was in your hamper, but if you only knew the reason I have for hating cats I’ Suddenly a new idea seemed to strike him. * Suppose it was not a real cat I’ he cried, with a scared look on his face. ‘ Did yon hear it mew, gentlemen ?’ * Can’t be certain,’ answered Jack, highly amused. * I heard no cat,’ remarked the little man in a gruff voice from behind bis mufflers.

* I must be haunted then I’ gasped our friend. ‘ I killed a wretched cat last year on this very line, and it’s come to life again !’ Jack gave him a drop of brandy from his flask, which seemed to revive him. * I will tell you about it,’ he said. • Up to last year I had a few horses in training. I am a Yorkshire man, and bred ’em myself, and sent ’em to Blimms’ at Malton. He is a good, honest trainer, with but one fault. He was superstitious —superstitious about a black cat of his, which beast, he pretended, always chose the best horse in the stable to make a companion of. Though you may laugh at me, I must confess that I noticed Paul—that was the name of the black cat—was always on the back of the best racer Blimms was training. The cat would desert one horse upon occasion, and take up with another, generally a new arrival, or a two-year old, and if he did so, the one so favoured was certain to turn out a clinker. Well, sir. I had a bay colt by Arbntus, out of a mare by Prism, and in due course sent him up to Blimms to be trained. For a long time the accounts concerning him were discouraging, but on going over to the stables one day last February, Blimms met me with outstretched hand. “ I wish you joy, Mr Scream,” he said. “Tiger will prove a little gold mine to you, unless I’m mistaken.” Tiger was the name of my Arbntus colt. “ Paul has taken to him, and if he ain’t a clinker I’ll eat my hat I” ‘ Well, I stayed a night or two, and the young horse won his trial handsomely. He had an engagement on the second day at Lincoln, and we determined to let him run. All went well till suddenly he got a strain across his loins. It was a mere nothing, but, would you believe it ? that black cat forsook the colt for a week. When he got all right Paul came back and took up his place on the rug as if nothing had happened. Now would not that almost make you believe in the powers of the animal ? It did make me believe, and when the horse was fit and well to ran I put more money on than I had ever backed a horse for before. The story of the trial got about, and Tiger was backed for a lot of money. I had another little mare called Eliza entered in the same race. We had tried her nearly a stone behind Tiger, but I let her run on Blimms’ advice, partly to come along with our crack and give him confidence, partly to open her eyes a bit. The race was a bungle, sir, from beginning to end. Tiger was beaten a distance from home, and Eliza, our second string, got home first a head from another outsider. I was pretty mad. All my friends swore I had given them away, put them in the cart, so I bolted down to the stables and told them to box the horses straight away for home, paid my bill at the inn, and got quietly to the station. In the stable yard I saw the deceitful Paul, and if no one had been looking I shonld have wrung his neck. No sooner, however, had the train started than I heard a ‘ mew.’ 1 jumped up, poked about my stick, and presently ont from under the seat comes Blimms’ black cat, the brute who had caused me to lose twice as much as I should otherwise have done. I did not stop to think, I just caught it up and threw it out of the window. The beast, however, stuck his ten talons into my hands before we parted company. And now comes the queer part of the story, for I am ready to take my oath that the scratches on my hand formed exactly a W and an M. What of that, do

you say ? Why, Wise Man won the Lincoln Handicap the next day, and that poor cat went and gave me the straight tip as I was killing it.' A burst of laughter came from the little man in the corner. * Not bad, Bloomer !’ he exclaimed after a while, removing his cap and the handkerchief from round his throat. * Very creditable indeed for you to make up such a story on the spur of the moment. Come, the game’s up. You may as well have them on now as later; we shall be stopping in five minutes.’ And in a matter of fact way he handcuffed our stout friend before the latter could even swear. ‘Now, gentlemen,’ said the little man briskly, * you will find that whilst he was rummaging under the seat your Gladstones have been opened, and any jewellery, or trifles of that sort removed. You need not trouble as they are all in hie pocket; but still if you looked it might save me further trouble.’ We had our bags out in no time. Seers had lost a set of gold and diamond studs with links to match, and a gold repeater, for he always carried a silver watch when racing. My losses consisted of a gold fox beaded pin, and a cigar case which happened to contain a ten-pound note. These were found on Mr Screams, alias racing Jim, alias the Ragman, etc., and in due course were returned to us. * I am much obliged to yon, gentlemen, and real sorry that I must trouble you to identify your property,’ said Detective Black. * But I knew my bird was a-coming down by an early train, and the moment you stepped into the carriage I made sure he would follow you. It was not a bad story that of his, eh ? Wise man, too I’ ‘ What will win ? Well, they tell me—and I hear a good thing or two now and again—that Rejected will win the big race. Worth your fiver I believe, gentlemen. Good-day, I’ll let you know when you are wanted to identify your property. The Rejected, don’t forget I’ Rejected won, and so the black cat brought us some luck after all. F.E.P.