In at the Death. A tale of society

Preface

. Before the following pages were sent to the Press, a critic, who had been kind enough to read the manuscript, told me that under the disguise of a novel I had written, what he was pleased to term, an elaborate sneer at humanity. He also said that none of the characters had any sense of right or wrong, and that I suggested that nobody cared for such things now-a-days. This criticism astounded me. It was not my intention either to be satirical, or to hold up for the admiration of my readers the worse side of human nature. On the contrary, it had rather been my endeavour to show the great power of maternal affection as portrayed in the character of Geramis, and also to point out how all good qualities, not even excepting honour, are cap able of being destroyed by jealousy. Beyond this, I was not vain enough to attempt to teach any lesson.

In regard to those chapters which relate to sport, I have done my best to prove that fox-hunting is the sovereign cure for all troubles and cares. In the November of 1886, I wrote an article which appeared in Land and Water on " The History of Hunting," in which I pointed out not only the pleasures, but the political utility of field sports.

PREFACE.

. VI I feel sure that I cannot conclude this preface better than by quoting the last sentences in that article. "Consider the social intercourse of the hunting field, and what it means ! The most aristocratic peers, the noblest ladies, are brought into equal companionship with the sporting farmer, even with the country peasant. It is one of the chief causes of the popularity of the upper classes, of the very existence of the class of country gentlemen. In these days of Socialism, when men desirous of cheap notoriety ignore patriotism in order to gain their own private advancement — when to set class against class is termed Radical policy instead of incitement to rebellion, no means by which good fellowship and genial friendship between the rich and the poor can be secured should be neglected.

That fox-hunting helps to secure this end, I feel no doubt. I even do not hesi tate to assert that so long as fox-hunting endures, so long will all the classes of English society be safe together : the high from the blights of envy and the spoliation of rapacity, the low from the iron hand of oppression and the insolent spurn of con tempt. So it will be — "Dum domus Æneæ Capitoli immobile saxum Accolet; imperiumque pater Romantis babebii.' 3, Plowden Buildings, Temple, E.C. CONTENTS. CHIPTEE riOE I. The Grey Dawn at San Francisco ... 1 II. Forty Minutes on the Grass without a Check 16 III. A Dinner-party at Belgart Towers ... 33 IV. A Sunday Afternoon ... 40 V. Haysey Steeplechases 48 VI. JSTipped in the Bud 57 VII. Sure to Win 68 VIII. Mr. Timothy Pipkin's Picnic 77 IX. The Love or Women 84 X. Chippy forms a Xew Acquaintance ... 93 XL Mr. Lionel makes a Discovery 109 XII.

On the Track 120 XIII. Afternoon Tea 132 XIV. A False Move 145 XV. The Watcher ; 159 XVI. To Be, or Not to Be 170 XVII. A Stroke of Luck 180 XVIII. Vida 191 XIX. The Major is again Baffled 197 XX. A Serious Interview 211 XXI. The Virtue of Adversity is Fortitude... 221 CONTENTS. VIII CHAFTEB XXII. Mors, Falce Omnia Sternens 228 XXIII. The Major finds his Master 238 XXIV. The Countervail of Joy 247 XXV The Major's Fate 256 XXVI. Peace at Last B IN AT THE DEATH.

Chapter I. The Grey Dawn At San Francisoo

The dessert had been cleared away, aud the cards and the spirits had made their appearance in Mr. Massinger's private apartment at the Hotel British, at San Francisco. Besides Mr. Massinger and his wife, there were three guests — two Americans, and one young Englishman travelling to see the country; these five were the occupants of the room. They had divided into two groups : one consisting of Mrs. Massinger and the Englishman, the other of Mr. Massinger and the two Americans. " So you leave here to-morrow ? " asked the lady, in a semi-audible tone. "I am afraid I must, Jess," replied the other. " I need not say how sorry I am, for you at all events know the happy time I have had. Would that the end were not so near ! " " You will soon forget me." "Never. How could I ? But we shall meet again, for you will write to me and tell me your movements, won't you, darling ?

" "Yes." After a pause. "Don't play to-night; there is no necessity; you can play ecarte with me." " All right." This tete-a-tete, which, as far as the countenances of the speakers were concerned, might have been about the weather or some equally interesting sub ject, was put a stop to by Mr. Massinger. " How shall we play ? Will you join us, Jess ? " " No, thanks. Mr. Lionel has challenged me to ecarte." " You will have to play your best, then, Lionel. My wife can beat me easily." And Hugh Massin ger turned round towards the table, where the two Americans were already shuffling the cards. He was a tall, well-built, handsome man, with darkblue eyes and coal-black hair. But his features were spoiled by a supercilious expression of sarcasm, which was all the more remarkable, as he could not have been more than twenty-one or twenty-two years of age.

He is a man without passions, would have been the verdict of a male observer ; he has no heart, a woman would have said. As a matter of fact, neither opinion would have beeu correct. Hugh Massinger had both passions and a heart ; but, although not twenty two, he had seen much of the world, of that world where a word said in the heat of the moment was only too often followed by a revolver bullet, and he had learnt to keep both his passions and his heart under the control of his reason. To be cool was his motto, and he had found it to his interest to act up to that motto. Insult him, and he would shoot you as calmly as he would gather up his winnings, or bear the reverses of the card-table. And yet he was somehow genial. Meanwhile his wife and young Lionel had com menced their game. Although the latter might be in love, it was evidently not the intention of his opponent that they should play for love.

Gold soon was seen on the little table in the corner where they were playing ; and tho pile by the side of the lady grew large, while that by the side of the man grew proportionately small. Perhaps the young Englishman found some compensation in the glances which fell from her eyes, in the occasional touches of their hands, and the soft words with which she favoured him whenever the conversation at the other table was loud enough to permit of her doing so. She was a woman for the sake of whose love many men would have consented to be duped ; but no woman ever yet loved the man whom she was robbing of his money. Walter Lionel never dreamt that the voluptuous creature, for whom he had been professing a violent passion for the last week, had merely been decoying him into gambling. In the inexperience of his youth he fancied she loved him, and did not consider that a gambler's wife is ne cessarily the partner of her husband.

So the world wags on. Love makes fools of all of us, and youth has to buy its experience. Pity that it should so often be bought too late. " Good gracious ! it is past twelve. I must be retiring. You will come and see me in the morning before you go, Walter ? " And Mrs. Massinger left the room. " Will you play a rubber, Lionel ? It is not too late," inquired his host. Walter Lionel had been playing cards at the Massingers' every night for the past week. He had been staying in the same hotel, and had at first accepted the invitation in order to make the acquaint ance of the beautiful woman he had seen in the public rooms ; but he had paid dearly for it. To Mrs. Massinger alone he had lost over two thousand dollars, to her husband considerably more ; and he knew that the next day he must return to England, because he had not sufficient funds to continue his journey..

With the blind hope of a gambler, he ventured his remaining money on the luck of the cards that night, and after three rubbers got up from the table absolutely without a dollar. " Won't you go on and have your revenge ? " " Not to-night, thanks. I am cleaned out com pletely. Not a dollar left," he replied half-angi-ily. "Oh! I am very sorry," said Massinger; aud leaving the table where the other two were still sitting, he added in a low tone, " If you are in a mess, don't hesitate to come to me in the morning." Unfortunately Lionel saw at that moment a contemptuous smile on the face of one of the two Americans, both of whom were regarding him stead fastly, and the whole truth flashed across him on the instant. Massinger and his wife had merely used him as a pigeon. A hasty conclusion, but a true one.

" You are very kind," he replied coolly. " I wished to buy the love of your wife, and so expected to be obliged to pay her husband a big price." Massinger only smiled as he took up a tumbler from the table, and dashed the contents into the face of the speaker. The two Americans looked on half-interested, half-amused; they were perfectly accustomed to these scenes, and perfectly ready to act as seconds in the one which must ensue. Life is not considei*ed of much value in San Francisco. There were few preliminaries to settle. The time was the immediate one, the place within a mile of the hotel. Thither they walked, Massinger and his second going first. The signal was given; both men fired at the same moment, and without a cry Lionel fell down dead. A small round hole in the forehead was all that showed the cause.

" You are my witnesses, of course," said Massin ger, " though it is not very likely that anything will come of it." And the three men walked back to the hotel. Such was the death of Walter Lionel, shot on account of his passion for gambling, and his love for a gambler's wife. Left dead on the plain outside San Francisco, thousands of miles from his native home. Such was the fruit of his folly. In his blind conceit he had thought himself a man of the world, because in his pursuit of pleasure he had forgotten the love of his mother, whose idol he had been, the love of his father whose heir he was, and the affectionate worship of his sisters, and that fair curly-headed little brother, whom in days gone by he had been used to pet. What would be their feel ings when they leai*nt that he, their pride and hope, had been shot for making love to another man's wife ?

Had he thought of them when he stood up in the grey dawn of that early morning to meet death in the vigour of his early manhood ? Perhaps so. He is dead; pity him, but take warning. When Hugh MassiDger got back to his hotel, he did not go to bed, but went into his sitting-room, and, lighting a cigar, settled down to think over the adventures of the night. It was not the first duel in which he had taken a principal part, and if the truth must be told, he felt little, if any, remorse. He could not have acted otherwise than he had done ; when in Rome one must do as Rome does, and the customs of San Francisco demanded that he should shoot a man who at once impliedly ac cused him of dishonesty and his wife of infidelity. AVhat troubled him was that he might gain an unen viable notoriety from the affair.

There is no smoke without fire, is an old but a very true proverb ; and Massinger wisely thought that if it were known that he had been accused of cheating at cards, and using his wife as a deco}*, he might not find life so pleasant as it might be. He must decamp, aud go in search of other hunting-grounds. It never struck him that his wife might have grown fond of the man he had killed. He had just arrived at the determination to leave San Francisco that same day, when the door opened and Jessie Massinger entered the room. Although hardly more than a girl in years, she was a superbly beautiful woman, of that dashing style which has so often been compared to a full-blown rose. She had a peculiarly graceful movement when she walked, such as is only found in women who have lived a free open-air life in their childhood and girlhood ; a movement which clearly shows that there is no exertion to the limbs.

Her figure was fiuely developed, of which, from the care she took to display it, she was evidently aware. In a word, she was one of those women who are aptly described as sensually voluptuous. Hugh Massinger had met her some six months before at a Mexican store, where he had stayed for a week. He was enchanted with her bare brown legs, as she ran about doing her daily work; and she fell in love with him because he had a handsome face, and was kinder in his manners to her than the rough planters to whom she had been accustomed. He liked to pass the sunny afternoons lying by her side in the long grass, and kissing her soft cheeks and lips, and she liked to be kissed. When the time came for him to leave, he had little difficulty in persuading her to accompany him. He could not afford, however, to keep her in idleness ; she must work as he did; and so they became partners in gambling, for he was a professional gambler.

All went well for a month, when one day, to his surprise, she insisted on his marrying her. She was too useful for him to leave her, and, as she herself did not hesitate to say, knew too much about him for him to offend her with impunity. So they were legally married, and after five months of in cessant travel from place to place, and varied success in regard to their industry, they had found themselves at San Francisco, with a rich young Englishman ready at hand to pluck. How they had availed themselves of the opportunity is known. " Oh, Jess ! " said the man, taking his cigar from between his lips, " we must pack up our luggage and leave here to-day." " Why, Hugh ? What is the matter now ? " " Well, the long and short of it is, that that young fool Lionel saw through our little game. Unfortunately for him he was ass enough to tell me so."

" You don't mean to say you have shot him ? " " Why all this interest ? Of course I did. It was a fair duel, though ; I didn't shoot him like a dog on the spot, as I should have had a perfect right to do, according to San Francisco law." " Oh ! vei-y fair, I've no doubt. What odds did it make whether you shot him in this room or in the open air ? You knew what chance he would have against you. Something like a thousand to one, I should guess. You cheated him at cards, and then murdered him for telling you so. That is the truth of the matter. We need not deceive one another, at all events. But look here, Hugh Mas singer, when I married you, I was willing to become your partner in business as far as the cards were concerned, but if you make murder your business, I shan't join you." " You use hard words, my fine lady.

But, if a man tells me to my face that he has consented to be duped by me, as a means of paying me for the love of my wife, he must bear the consequences." " You lie; Walter Lionel never told you so." "Yes, he did," said Massinger; and turning quietly round to his companion, he added : " Did he lie ? " " Oh ! you suspect me, do you ? Well, I have finned pretty considerably for your sake, so if I sin occasionally for my own it is not for you to call ms to account." '- By G , it is though. You refused to remain my servant, and forced me to marry you, so you must fulfil your part ofthe bargain." Jessie Massinger threw herself back iu the arm chair, and laughed immoderately. " Indeed ! And suppose I don't fulfil my part of the bargain, what then, my virtuous lord and husband ? " " I shall either leave you, or compel you to do so ; whichever best suits my convenience."

" Will you ? We shall see about that. You tell me to flirt with a man, and then are angry because you think I carried the flirtation too far. If I am to make love at your bidding, I shall please myself how I do it. And what is more, I won't allow you to shoot my lovers. AValter Lionel, let me tell you, was an infinitely better man than you. He was a gentleman, at all events." " And I am not. You might just as well have finished the speech. AVhat a pity I did shoot him; he was going to-day, and might have taken you with him. Let me see, it is about six months since I found you serving liquors to your father's customers. You have soon learnt to discriminate in regard to gentlemen. Very soon, I must say." " Yes ; and I distinguish between an honest man and a thief and a murderer." " I am sorry you couldn't do so six months ago.

However it is not too late now." " I am perfectly aware of that. I shall please myself, you may be sure. Your system of education is not likely to make a fool of any woman." "Well, I am getting tired of this little scene; and as I am master for the present, perhaps you will go and pack, as I told you to at first." " Master ! are you ? I advise you not to try that tack with me. You had better go and pack up the things yourself. It is owing to you that we have got to go." " Are you goiDg to do as I told you, or not ? For I am not going to have this folly any longer." And he got up from the chair and walked towards her. "No more am I. By Heaven, if you touch me, I'll make you repent it." He took her by the arm, and dragged her out of the chair. " When you are another man's mistress you can please yourself; but so long as you're mine I'll make you obey me."

And he pushed her towards the door. But he had roused the hot Mexican blood which flowed in her veins. " You coward," she hissed out ; " take that," and she struck him across the face with all her strength. It was the work of a moment. He did not strike her. To do him justice he was too much of a man ever to strike a woman in cold blood. And he had the sense still to remain cool even under the provocation she had just given him. He took her in his arms and carried her into her bedroom, where he placed her on the bed. Then, standing over her, he made her, trembling now with fear of his superior strength, listen to what he had to say. They were the stern words of a man whose will was of cast iron ; words the sarcasm of which cut through the mind of the woman ; words which she was never likely to forget, or to forgive.

After he had finished he locked the door, which opened on to the passage of the hotel, and went into the sitting-room to smoke another cigar. "Damn her," he muttered to himself; "she loved me once and her love made her obey me; now she hates me and will no longer do what I want her. Fool that I was to fall in love with her ; it serves me right. Doubly fool ever to give her the hold of marriage over me. AVell, if I can't bend her to my love, she must bend to my will." He would have doubted the power of his will, if he had heard the words she used when he had left her room. But she packed up his things. Three weeks later Hugh Massinger was sitting1 in a drinking saloon in a remote part of California, talking to a Britisher. To judge by their conversa tion they were old acquaintances. " I heard you had been spliced since I saw you last." " Yes, I was. But I am carrying on business on mv own account now."

Chapter II

"FORTY MINUTES ON THE GRASS W1TH0DT A CHECK." If a southerly wind and a cloudy sky proclaim it a hunting morning, the followers of the South Grass-shire fox-hounds had nothing to complain of on the score of weather, when they met one Feb ruary morning at the White Court finger-post, the surest find in the country. It was a large field, and, as the huntsman remarked to the first whip, one which would require a lot of weeding. All the well-known faces in the hunt seemed to be out ; and the eye of a keen sportsman would not have found much difficulty in discerning who were most likely to be well up at the death. There were some half-dozen who looked as if they were certain to bo iu it. First of all there is a group of three, two men chatting to a girl ; they all look like business. The girl in her well-fitting habit, — why is it that there " FORTY MINUTES ON THE GRASS." 17 are hardly three meu in the country who can make a habit to fit? — sits that bay thoroughbred as if she were used to him, which indeed she is ; and if he can go as well as he looks, they will be hard to beat.

Certainly if a girl be a good horsewoman she never looks so well as when in the saddle ; and Aura Belgart was a good horsewoman. Yet there are donkeys, who are continually braying asinine hee haws against the appearance of ladies in the hunting field ; what a blessing that we can afford to treat them with contemptuous silence, only advising them to ride the animals they resemble. Both the men have good hunting seats, and appear well mounted; but there is a look of vice in the grey which the slighter of the two is on, and which prophesies to give his rider some little trouble ; still, Captain Stanhope has the reputation of having as good hands as any man who ever rode between the flags. When he can get leave in the hunting season, he comes down into Grass-shire to stay with his elder brother, who mounts him on the horses which he can't ride himself.

At the present moment he seems to wish the dark-moustached man on the big chestnut at Jericho, or Jupiter, or the moon, or anyc where but at the side of the auburn-haired girl on the bay. Who is the fair, curly-headed boy in mufti, chatting to an old, benevolent-looking gentleman on foot ? He can't be more than eighteen, yet he looks as if he had been born in the saddle. Many an older man envied the firm seat and delicate hands of little Chippy Lionel as he was always called. He is a cousin of the girl with the auburn hair, and is supposed to be reading with a private tutor at Haysey in Grass-shire. But as his uncle, Sir Henry Belgart, lives within three miles of that town, Chippy does him the favour of riding his horses as often as he conveniently can. His walking weight is just over nine stone, so unless Chippy comes hopelessly to grief, he is generally to be found near to the hounds.

The little old benevolent-looking gentleman is the walking prodigy of the hunt. Nearly every hunt has a walking prodigy of some sort, a man who walks to the meet and follows the hounds for miles on foot. Mr. Timothy Pipkin was the prodigy of the South Grass-shire. He lived in a little house in Haysey, was known to be a great naturalist and " FORTY MINUTES ON THE GRASS." 19 somewhat of an antiquarian, walked to every meet within walking distance, and was a gentleman. Everybody liked him, and everybody invited him to their houses. There are several others who seem as if they could go. There are four or five sporting farmers, who combine horse-dealing with farming ; they will ride at anything, and always manage to get over somehow : then the people who buy their horses from them wonder why they can't do the same, for getting that these men are in the saddle riding over their farms every day* of the week, almost every hour of the day.

There is the wife of the master, the most popular person in the hunt, she has three hundred guineas beneath her, and will require catching. Last of all, there is the master himself. He looks the perfect picture of what he is — a country English gentleman on horseback. And what better picture could one have ? Mark him as he stands there in the midst of his hounds, giving final directions to his huntsman, and own with pride that no country in Europe can show a finer sight. But the hounds are moving off to a covert on the left, a field from the road, where everybody but the hunt servants remain in eager expectation. Hush ! was that a whimper? Yes; no false alarm. One blow of the horn, two or three more whimpers— the sweetest of all music, the hounds are out of covert. Forrad ! Away ! See how the best men go immediately to the front.

The dark-moustached man on the big chest nut is first over the fence out of the road. Miss Belgart and Chippy, who generally sticks pretty close to his cousin, take it side by side. The grey* follows, and then, laying down his head, does his best to bolt. The road is already more than half deserted, and for the first three fields it is a race for a place with nearly a hundred and fifty starters. The big chestnut is not caught, nor has his rider any intention that he should be, as, bending slightly forward in the saddle, he gallops him across the fields, letting him take his fences in his stride. "By Jove 1 he is making straight for Bradley gorse. Seven miles, with hardly au earth, even," says Chippy, as he negotiates a bullfinch, half a length ahead of his cousin. "No! Is he?" And her cheeks are already flushed with excitement.

They are in the same field with the hounds now, but only for a moment; there is timber to be negotiated. Watch that wiry little whip, the per fection of a rider. How he pulls iu his bony horse within twenty yards of the place. Till then ha seemed as if he were going to charge it like a steam engine. Whoa, gently ; and the bony horse hops over like a cat. Rap, rap. Chippy looks round. Captain Stan hope and the grey are alongside; the latter with his head down and the bit well between his teeth. " Knocked it with every leg he has. I can only sit down and let him go." " You won't pass the hounds, old man, so it don't make much odds. Ye gods, what a scent ! This pace will thin them a bit, I bet." And Chippy turned round in his saddle to review the field. " Put the pace on. There is a tremendously wide ditch ou the other side.

I told you so. Arthur has just come to grief." Aura Belgart touched the bay with her spur, and landed well into the other field, where she saw the unfortunate huntsman trying to get his horse out of the ditch. No need to put the pace on with the grey. He had only to rise, and he could have cleared a river. " By Jove ! we are in the river meadows. Do you see the willows ? They are making straight for the brook. We shall either have to jump it or swim it," said Stanhope. " AArill is putting that bony brute at it. He can never get him over. AAratch Bertie Muirsom. It is a race which of them will take it first. Doesn't Bertie go well ? See how he increases the pace as he comes down to the water. A good dig of the spurs that. He's over — no, he isn't — yes, he is." There had not been a foot to spare ; hardly an inch, for the matter of that.