“We looked out for you at Gatwick,” he said.

“I only just reached the race course in time for the last race,” said Harry Luttrell.  “Luckily for me.”

“Why luckily?” asked Harold Jupp in surprise.

“Because I backed the winner,” replied Luttrell.

The indefatigable race-goers gathered about him a little closer; and Joan Whitworth rose noiselessly from her chair.

“Which horse won?” asked Harold Jupp.

“Loman!” Harold Jupp stared at Dennis Brown.  Incredulity held them as in bonds.

“But he couldn’t win!” they both cried in a breath.

“He did, you know, and at a long price.”

“What on earth made you back him?” asked Dennis Brown.

“Well,” Luttrell answered, “he was the only white horse in the race.”

Miranda uttered a cry of pleasure.  She recognised a brother.  “That’s an awfully good reason,” she cried.  But science fell with a crash.  Dennis Brown took his “Form at a Glance” from his pocket, and sadly began to tear the pages across.  Harold Jupp looked on at that act of sacrilege.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, and offered his invariable consolation.  “Flat racing’s no use.  We’ll go jumping in the winter.”

But Harold Jupp was never again to go jumping in the winter.  Long before steeple chasing began that year, he was lying out on the flat land beyond the Somme, with a bullet through his heart.

Dennis Brown returned “Form at a Glance” to his pocket; and Millie Splay drew Harry Luttrell away from the group.

“I want to introduce you to Joan Whitworth,” she said, and she turned to the chair in which Joan had been sitting a few moments ago.

It was empty.

“Why, where in the world has Joan gone to?” she exclaimed.

“She has fled,” explained Jupp.  “Joan saw his ‘Form at a Glance,’ without any book.  She saw that he was incapable of the higher Life, and she has gone.”

“Nonsense, Harold,” cried Millicent Splay in vexation.  She turned towards the stairs, and she gave a little gasp.  A woman was standing on the second step from the floor.  But it was not Joan, it was Stella Croyle.

“I thought you had such a bad headache,” said Lady Splay, after a perceptible pause.

“It’s better now, thank you,” said Stella, and coming down the remaining steps, she advanced towards Harry.

“How do you do, Colonel Luttrell?” she asked.

For a moment he was taken aback.  Then with the blood mounting in his face, he took a step forwards and shook hands with her easily.

“So you know one another!” said Lady Splay.

“We have known each other for a long while,” returned Stella Croyle.