The marchioness was a lady with a passion for bridge, and an intense admiration for Adrien Leroy.

“You are quite sure your horse, that pretty creature with the long neck, is going to win?” she inquired, as he stood by her chair.

Her sister, Lady Merivale, looked up mockingly.

“Of course he’s going to win, Alicia.  Did not Lady Constance Tremaine say so?  Surely she ought to know!”

Leroy did not appear to notice the jealous sarcasm of this speech.

“I hope he will win,” he said gravely.  “Nothing is certain in this world, and race-horses are said to be as fickle as your sex, dear lady.”  This was a mild thrust at Lady Merivale; but she only smiled sweetly in response.  “Still, I think you may safely bet on the ‘King’; he’s in fine form.”  Then he turned to his cousin.  “Here is your beau cavalier, Constance,” he said, almost jealously, as Jasper Vermont came leisurely up the steps of the grand stand; then, with a swift glance at the girl which was not lost upon Lady Merivale, he went down once more to his father.

“The bell is about to ring now,” he said.  “Are you sure you can see?”

“Quite sure,” replied Lord Barminster curtly.  “How is the horse?”

“In splendid form, sir,” Adrien answered cheerfully.  “I should think it is a safe thing.  If you are quite all right, I’ll get back to the others now, before the crush begins.”

His father nodded, and the young man made his way back to the stand.  Here he found the Castle guests already seated.  Harsh cries from the betting-ring still ascended at intervals, though the majority of the vast crowd had settled down to watch the race.  With a thrill of pleasure, Adrien saw that Lady Constance had kept a seat vacant for him beside herself; and with a light word to Lady Merivale as he passed, he took his place, and unstrapping the heavy field-glasses, arranged them to Lady Constance’s liking.

“Can you see all right?” he asked.

“Beautifully,” she replied, as she tried them.  “What excitement they are all in,” she added, as she surveyed the seething crowd.

Adrien smiled, pleased because she was pleased; for himself, except that he wished his horse to win in order that it should gain fresh laurels, he had no interest in the affair.  Certainly he never gave a thought to the fearful amount of money involved.

Then, amid a murmur of excitement, the starting-gate went up, and the horses were off.  For a while “Miracour” led; “Bluebell” running close beside him; the “King” striding along in cool, quiet canter that covered the miles at greater speed than the little mare could hope to maintain.

“There goes the ’King’!” exclaimed Lady Caine, almost rising from her seat in her excitement.  “Oh, I do hope he will win don’t you, Mr. Vermont?”

Jasper smiled.

“I do, indeed,” he said, while his little steely eyes rested upon the shrivelled figure of Peacock, the jockey, with a keen, cold scrutiny.