"You, Hilt!" cried the lady, with her eyes brightening, and instead of sympathy something like ecstasy in her tones. "I thought you had "schworred off.""
"Yes, of course--I had--but the mare--short of money--such faith in her--I put on--lot of my wife"s money. Hetty, how could you have managed so badly with Josh Rowle? What have you done? Oh, woman, woman! You always were the ruin of our s.e.x! Why did you come with such horrible news as this? I"m a ruined man."
"Yes, Hilt, and I"m a ruined woman."
"Do you know what it means for me, Hetty?"
"Yes, Hilt, old man--four thou"."
"Of my wife"s money? No, it means locking my dressing-room door, and then--"
"Yes? What then?"
"Revolver. No, haven"t got one--a razor."
"Tchah!"
"While you, Hetty--"
"Not such a fool," cried the lady. "Life"s worth more than four million millions, squared and cubed. Pull yourself together, you dear old gander."
"Pull myself together!" groaned Sir Hilton. "Oh, why did you come with this horrible news?"
"Because I knew you could help me, stupid!"
"I--I--help you?"
"Hold up, Hilt, or you"ll break your knees. It"s an emergency--no time to lose. La Sylphide must come up to the scratch."
"Oh!" groaned Sir Hilton. "Impossible. Try to put another jock on her, and she"ll murder him. You know what she is. There, pray leave me. I must do a bit of writing before I go."
"Hilt!" cried Lady Tilborough, flushing with energy, as she sprang up and s.n.a.t.c.hed her whip from the table, to swish it about and make it whistle through the air. "You make me feel as if I could lash you till you howled. Be a man. Suicide! Bah! You"ll have to die quite soon enough. Now then, listen. This is the only chance. In the terrible emergency I"ve come to you. Now, quick, there isn"t a minute to spare.
You must help me."
"I? How?"
"Can"t you see?"
"I"m stunned."
"Oh, what a man! You must ride the mare yourself."
"And win."
"Impossible!"
"Nonsense. She will be like a lamb with you."
"But my wife; she wouldn"t--"
"Oh!" cried Lady Tilborough, stamping, and lashing the air with her whip. "Divorce your wife."
"She"d divorce me."
"And a good job too! You must come and ride the mare."
"I can"t--I can"t."
"You must, Hilt."
"Out of training. Too heavy."
"Not a bit of it. You"re as fine as can be, and will want weight. You look as thin as if you"d been fretting."
"I have been, woman; I have."
"All the better. Come on at once."
"I tell you I daren"t. I can"t, Hetty. It is madness."
"Yes, to refuse. Do you hear? It is to save your four thousand pounds."
"Oh!" groaned Sir Hilton.
"Your wife"s money."
"With which she has trusted me for Parliamentary expenses."
"Ha! Then you must ride and save it."
"No, no, no! My spirit"s broken. I should funk everything."
"Nonsense! Come, you will ride?"
"No, no, not even for that money, and to save the shame. I can"t--I can"t, Hetty."
"Then for your old, old friend. Hilt, dear boy, we were nearly making a match of it once, only you were a fool. I"d have had you."
"Would you?"
"Yes, if you hadn"t been so wild. Now then, for the sake of the old days and our old love. Hilt, for my sake. Do you want me to go down upon my knees?"
"No, no, the other way on, if you like. But the race--impossible. I can"t--I can"t. I don"t know, though. She"d never hear of it. But the newspaper. She never reads it, though; calls it a disgustingly low journal. But, no--no, I couldn"t--I couldn"t. Hetty, old girl, pray, pray don"t tempt me."
"It is to save yourself from shame, and me, a weak, helpless woman, from absolute ruin. Don"t live to see me sold up, stock, lock, and barrel.
Why, Hilt, old man, I shall be as badly off as you. All my poor gee-gees, including the mare, knocked down, and poor me marrying some tyrant who will now and then write me a paltry cheque."
"Ha, yes!" cried Sir Hilton, drawing himself up as rigidly as if he had been struck by a cataleptic seizure, while Lady Tilborough stared at him in horror, and, unseen by either, Sydney, armed with mounted fly-rod and creel, appeared at the window, stopped short, and looked in in astonishment.