“I mush trush you,” he said, “same as you trush me.  You wouldn’t deceive me, Oxford genelman and all.”

“What d’you take me for?” answered Joses.

He poured the stuff into the bucket that Monkey held.  It was dark and sweet-smelling.  Four-Pound-the-Second sniffed with inflated nostrils.

“Hist!” cried Monkey.

“What’s that?”

“Somebury at the door.”

“The door’s all right.  I locked it.”

“He’s got a key.”

“Who has?”

“Silver.”

“Is he on the ramp?”

“Ain’t he?” snorted Monkey.  “Hundred thousand—­and the gal.”  He added with a snort:  “Thought I were a copper’s nark.  Good as told me so.”

Joses stole down the gangway to the door.

When he came back Monkey was holding the bucket to
Four-Pound-the-Second, who was drinking noisily.

“It was only the cat,” he said.  “I heard her scuttle.”

“Don’t it smell funny?” whispered Monkey, swirling the bucket gently under the horse’s muzzle.

Joses patted the drinking horse.

“There’s the beauty,” he said.  “Suck it down.  It’ll give you pleasant dreams.”

Four-Pound-the-Second had his fill by now and moved away.

Joses picked up his twitch and made for the door.

Monkey placed himself between the fat man and the exit, heavy-lidded, stertorous, and menacing.

“One thing,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“Them little bits o’ paper there was some talk about.”

“Oh, aye, I was forgettin’ them.”

“Was you, then?  I wasn’t,” said Monkey brutally.  “Dole ’em out.”

The fat man obeyed with a snigger; then shuffled softly down the passage and out.

Monkey Brand heard him open the door and cross the yard.

Then a voice called: 

“Hi at him!”

There was a scurry of pursuing feet, a scuffle, and a yell.

The jockey rushed out into the yard.

Joses was disappearing over the gate, flinging something behind him, and
Billy Bluff was smothered in a cape which he was worrying.

Jim Silver, racing across the yard, snatched the cape from the dog.

A window flung open.

Boy looked out.

“What is it?” she cried.

“It’s all right, Miss,” answered Monkey.  “No ’arm done.”

The girl came swiftly down the ladder in the moonlight.  She was in her wrapper, her short hair massed.

“Is the horse all right?” she cried.

“Yes, Miss.”

“Where’s Billy Bluff?”

“There.”

Silver turned his electric torch on to a far corner of the yard, where the dog was seen chewing a lump of meat.

Boy flung herself on him and tore it away.

“Hold him!” she cried to Jim.  “Between your knees!  Force his mouth open!  Mind yourself now.”

She brought the stable-hose to bear upon the dog’s extended mouth.  He wrestled hugely in the grip of the young man’s knees, gasping, spluttering, whining for mercy.  But mercy there was none.  The girl drenched him with the hose, and the man who was holding him.