Adrien frowned, as he rose with the rest.

“That is impossible,” he said, almost sternly; “Jasper saw to that too well.  But, in future, no one shall ride the ‘King’ but myself; he’s just up to my weight,” he concluded.  “Jasper, enter him for the Cup.  We will give him a chance to retrieve this day’s failure.”

Jasper had risen with him, and amid a volley of good-nights, the two men passed into the corridor.  As Adrien was about to ascend the stairs to his own apartment, he turned to Vermont, and said quietly: 

“Jasper, I should like that poor fellow to have a Christian burial in the private chapel; and if there are relations, find them out——­” He broke off abruptly.  “There, you know better than I what to do, and how to do it.  Oh! just one word more; of course, I shall see that no notice is taken of his delirious ravings.  Good-night, old man.”

Jasper thanked him and returned his “good-night” with sympathetic cordiality; then turned softly to his own apartment.  Having reached it, he gave himself up to a spasm of silent laughter.

“Christian burial!” he chuckled.  “Oh, yes, he shall have Christian burial in the family vaults.  Lucky job for me the hound died, or the game would have been all up.  As it is, that fool—­that popinjay, almost guessed.  Well, deny everything and demand proof, that’s my line.  After all, it’s the very risks and chances that make the game so fascinating.”

He sat down and drew out a little note-book—­only a very ordinary penny note-book; for it was wonderful how mean this man could be when he had to expend his own money.  Save clothes, which necessarily had to be of good material, though quiet in colour, he never failed to buy the cheapest article obtainable; unless, of course, when, on the principle of “throwing a sprat to catch a herring,” he stood to make a profit.

In this little book there lay the records of fortunes.  A fortune spent by Leroy—­a fortune gained by Jasper Vermont.  He smiled to himself, as he closed one eye, and counted up the gains he had netted through this day’s work.

“Eight—­ten, with Yorkshire Twining’s last little touch—­ten thousands pounds.  Ah, if those fools knew how the ‘intruder’ was stripping them of golden plumes, how mad they would be!  Ten thousand pounds!  But Twining was too risky,” he muttered, frowning at the recollection, “My grand knight might have smelled a rat.  Just like his noble lordship; two to one, because some stranger doubts the strength of the animal’s legs.”

He chuckled again as he thought how carefully he had stage-managed the day’s comedy.  Of the tragedy into which it had been turned by the death of his poor tool and accomplice, Peacock, he gave no thought, his whole mind was bound up in his jealous hatred of Leroy.  Just why he hated him so he, himself, could hardly have explained; but with men of Jasper Vermont’s calibre, the mere fact that one possesses so much—­wealth, position, and popularity—­while the other must perforce live by his wits, is quite sufficient to arouse all the evil passions of which he is capable.