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When Chukkers rode the famous International that established him once and for all in a class by himself among cross-country riders, snatching an astounding victory on Hooka-burra from Lady Golightly, his win and the way he rode his race was largely due to Joses's report on the favourite's staying power.
"I wouldn't like to see 'em in a cage," he said quietly. "It wasn't meant. Never!" Next Saturday, when Mr. Silver came down, she told him of the incident. "You didn't say anything to the police, did you?" she asked anxiously. "No," he said. "I meant to, but I forgot." She repeated Joses's remark about the cage. "He's been in the cage," she said quietly. "Are you sure?" he asked.
His pony's rein was over the young man's arm; and they were standing on the edge of the cliff. Joses, weighing his chances with the swift and comprehending eye of fear, marked it greedily. Silver was young, strong, an athlete; but he was handicapped. Joses's cunning was returning to reinforce his doubtful heart. "That's Heart of Oak, isn't it?" he asked. "Is it?" said the young man.
"The model polo pony," continued Joses. "Refused £600 for him at Islington, didn't you? And I don't blame you. You're rich, we all know, Mr. Silver. £600's no more to you than sixpence to me. But there's the pony! You can't replace him. Pity if he got away here on the edge of the cliff and all." For the second time that morning Joses's luck deserted him.
She returned home, radiant and impenitent. "I've been thinking things over," she said on the morning after her return. "And I'll forgive you, mother, for your lack of faith." "Thank you, my dear," replied the other laconically. "This once," added Boy firmly. "Now, mind!" Mrs. Woodburn now gave her daughter Joses's message. The girl said nothing, but visited the cottage next morning.
"Don't start," mused Joses. "That's a tall order." The trainer picked his teeth. "A monkey's money," he said. The fat man sniggered. "It's worth money, too," he remarked. "Give you a new start in a new country," continued Jaggers. "Quite the capitalist." Joses's eyes wandered. "I don't say it mightn't fix it," he said at last cautiously. "But it'd mean cash.
"Are you hurt?" he asked anxiously. "I'm all right," she replied sleepily. Joses was peering over the hedge. It was difficult to say what was in those shining eyes of his. "Nasty shy," he said. Silver looked up. "I'm coming round to you in a minute, my friend," he said deeply. Joses's face darkened. "Why, you don't think it was deliberate?" he cackled.
The mutter of horses' feet close at hand struck his ear. He turned and looked over the hedge. A man and a girl were cantering leisurely toward him. The man was on a gray, and it was clear from the way the girl handled her horse that he was young and uncertain of himself. An imp of malignant deviltry, born of spite and alcohol, bobbed up in Joses's heart.
The young couple strolled on up the slope. Boy looked across the Paddock Close to Joses's window. Mrs. Boam was pulling up the blind, and the sun was pouring in splendid torrents on to the dead man within. The girl was glad. They came to the quiet church. "Shall we go in?" she said. "Let's," he answered. Mr. Haggard, in his cassock, was arranging the narcissi on the altar.
In Joses's eyes she had seen again that look of the wild beast, caged and cowering. The young man felt censure in her voice. "Well, I don't think it was my fault," he said, nettled. "I know it wasn't," she cried. "But " "What?" "That inspector's way with him. Like a slavedriver." "I know," said Silver. "Horrible." The Black Bird
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