June 9, 2025 • 17 mins
In The Just Men of Cordova (1917), a series of European financiers from London to Cordova are dying under mysterious circumstances, falling victim to an unidentified poison. Edgar Wallace, in his previous novel, introduced us to a group of vigilantes known as the Four Just Men, who are renowned for their ingenuity, persistence, lock breaking skills, and mastery of disguise. They operate in the shadowy realm beyond the law, their lethal justice instilling terror in their targets. But who are these men and who supports their cause? Edgar Wallace, a prolific author from the golden age of detective fiction, penned over 170 novels, including King Kong. With over 160 films based on his work, and a publishers claim that a quarter of all books read in England at the time were his, Wallaces influence is undeniable. - Summary by ASharma
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter eleven of The Just Men of Cordoba by Edgar Wallace.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Atolsharma, Winnipeg, Canada,
Chapter eleven to Lincoln Races. Sir Isaac Tramber went to
Lincoln in an evil frame of mind. He had reserved
a compartment, and cursed his luck when he discovered that
(00:23):
his reservation adjoined that of Horace Gresham. He paced the
long platform at King's Cross, waiting for his guests. The
Earl of Verlande had promised to go down with him
and to bring Lady Mary, and it was no joy
to Sir Isaac to observe on the adjoining carriage to
the label reserved for mister Horace Gresham and party. Horace
(00:45):
came along about five minutes before the train started. He
was as cheerful as the noonday sun, in striking contrast
to Sir Isaac, whose night had not been too wisely spent.
He nodded carelessly to Sir ISAC's almost imperceptible greeting. The
baronet glanced at his watch and inwardly swore at the
(01:06):
old Earl in his caprices. It wanted three minutes to
the hour at which the train left. His tongue was
framing a bitter indictment of the old man when he
caught a glimpse of his tall, angular figure striding along
the platform. Thought we weren't coming, I suppose, asked the Earl,
as he made his way to the compartment. I say
(01:27):
you thought we weren't coming, he repeated, as Lady Mary
entered the compartment, assisted with awkward solicitude by Sir Isaac. Well,
I didn't expect you to be late. We are not late,
said the Earl. He settled himself comfortably in a corner seat,
the seat which Sir Isaac had specially arranged for the
girl friends of his and of the old man, who
(01:50):
passed nodded an indiscreet few came up to speak. Going
up to Lincoln, Lord Verlon, asked one idle youth. No,
said the Earl sweetly. I'm going going to bed with
the mumps. He snarled the last word, and the young seeker,
after information fled. You can sit by me, Ike, leave
Mary alone, said the old man, sharply. I want to
(02:12):
know all about this horse. I have a hundred and
fifty pounds on this thoroughbred of yours. It is far
more important than those fatuous inquiries you intend making of
my niece. Inquiries, grumbled Sir Isaac, resentfully. Inquiries, repeated the other.
You want to know whether she slept last night, whether
she finds it too warm in this carriage, whether she
(02:34):
would like a corner seat or a middle seat, her
back to the engine or her face to the engine.
Leave her alone, Leave her alone, ike, she'll decide all that.
I know her better than you, He glared, with that
amusing glint in his eyes across at the girl. Young
Gresham is in the next carriage. Go and tap at
the window and bring him out. Go along. He's got
(02:57):
some friends there, I think, uncle, said the girl. Never
mind about his friends, said Vermond irritably. What the devil
does it matter about his friends? Aren't you a friend?
Go and tap at the door and bring him out.
Sir Isaac was fuming. I don't want him in here,
he said loudly. You seem to forget, Verlon that if
you want to talk about horses, this is the very
(03:18):
chap we should know nothing about. Timbolino Ah, said the
earl testily. Don't you suppose he knows all there is
to be known. What do you think sporting papers are for?
Sporting papers can't tell a man what the owner knows,
said Sir Isaac. Importantly, they tell me more than he knows.
He said your horse was favorite yesterday morning. It isn't
(03:39):
favorite any more. Ikey, I can't control the investments of
silly asses, grumbled Sir Isaac. Accept one, said the Earl rudely.
But these silly acids you refer to do not throw
their money away. Remember that, Ikey, when you have had
as much racing as I have had, and one as
much money as I have won, you'll take no notice
of what owners think of their horses. You might as
(04:02):
well ask a mother to give a candid opinion of
her own daughter's charms as to ask an owner for
unbiased information about his own horse. The train had slipped
through the grimy purluds of London and was now speeding
through green fields to Hatfield. It was a glorious spring day,
mellow with sunlight, such a day as a man at
(04:22):
peace with the world might live with complete enjoyment. Sir
Isaac was not in this happy position, nor was he
in a mood to discuss either the probity of racing
men or the general question of the sport itself. He observed,
with an inward curse, the girl rise and walk apparently
carelessly into the corridor. He could have sworn he heard
(04:45):
a tap at the window of the next compartment, But
in this, of course, he was wrong. She merely moved
across the vision of the little coterie, who sat laughing
and talking, and in an instant Horace had come out.
It is not my fault, this really, she him, with
a little flush in her cheeks. It was uncle's idea.
Your uncle is an admirable old gentleman, said Horace fervently.
(05:08):
I retract anything I may have said to his discredit.
I will tell him, she said, with maud gravity. No, no,
cried Horace. I don't want you to do that exactly.
I want to talk to you, seriously, said she suddenly
come into our compartment. Uncle and Sir Isaac are so
busy discussing the merits of Timbolina. Is that the right name?
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He nodded, his lips twitching with amusement. That they won't
notice anything we have to say, she concluded. The old
Earl gave him a curt nod, Sir Isaac only vouchsafed
to scowl. It was difficult to maintain anything like a
confidential character in their conversation, but by maneuvering so that
they spoke only of the more important things, when Sir
(05:52):
Isaac and his truculent guest were at the most heated
point of their argument, she was able to unburden the
anxiety of her mind. I am worried about uncle, she said,
in a low tone. Is he ill? Asked Horace. She
shook her head. No, it isn't his illness yet. It
may be, but he is so contradictory. I am so
(06:13):
afraid that it might react to our disadvantage. You know
how willing he was that you should She hesitated, and
his hands sought hers under the cover of an open newspaper.
It was marvelous, he whispered, wasn't it. I never expected
for one moment that the old dev that your dear uncle,
he corrected himself, would have been so amenable. She nodded again.
(06:36):
You see, she said, taking advantage of another heated passage
between the old man and the irritated baronet. What he
does so impetuously he can undo just as easily. I
am so afraid he will turn and rend you. Let
him try, said Horace. I am not easily rent. Their
conversation was cut short abruptly by the intervention of the
(06:58):
man they were discussing. Look here, Gresham, snapped the earl shortly.
You're one of the cognoscenti, and I suppose you know everything.
Who are the four just men I hear people talking about?
Horace was conscious of the fact that the eyes of
Sir Isaac Trember were fixed on him. Curiously. He was
a man who made no disguise of his suspicion. I
(07:20):
know no more than you, said Horace. They seem to
me to be an admirable body of people who go
about correcting social evils. Who are they to judge what
is and what is not evil? Growled the earl, scowling
from under his heavy eyebrows. Infernal cheek. What do we
pay judges and jurymen and coroners and policemen and people
of that sort for? Eh? What do we pay taxes
(07:43):
for and rent for, and police rates and gas rates
and water rates and every kind of damn rate that
the devilish ingenuity of man can devise? Do we do
it that these jackanapes can come along and interfere with
the course of justice. It's absurd, It's ridiculous, he stormed.
Horace threw out a protesting hand. Don't blame me, he said,
(08:05):
But you approve of them accused the earl Ikey says
you do. And Ike knows everything, don't you, Ikey. Sir
Isaac shifted uncomfortably in his seat. I didn't say Gresham
knew anything about it, he began, lamely. Why do you lie, Ike,
Why do you lie? Asked the old man testily. You
just told me that you were perfectly sure that Gresham
(08:26):
was one of the leading spirits of the gang. Sir Isaac,
inured as he was to the brutal indiscretions of his friends,
went to dull red. Oh, I didn't mean that exactly,
he said, awkwardly and a little angrily. Dash it, Lord
Verloand don't embarrass a fellow by rendering him liable to
heavy damages and all that sort of thing. Horace was
(08:48):
unperturbed by the other's confusion. You needn't bother yourself, he
said coolly. I should never think of taking you to
a court of justice. He turned again to the girl
and the Earl claim the baronet's attention. The old man
had a trick of striking off at a tangent from
one subject to another. He leaped like a will of
the wisp. Before Horace had framed half a dozen words,
(09:11):
the old man was dragging his unwilling victim along episcatorial road,
and Sir Isaac was floundering out of his depths in
a morass. If the metaphor be excused of salmon fishing,
trout poaching, pike fishing, a sport on which Sir Isaac
Trember could, by no means deem himself an authority. It
(09:31):
was soon after lunch that the train pulled into Lincoln.
Horace usually rented a house outside the town, but this
year he'd arranged to go and return to London on
the same night. At the station, he parted with the girl.
I shall see you on the course, He said, what
are your arrangements? You go back to town tonight? She nodded.
(09:53):
Is this a very important race for you to win?
She asked a little anxiously. He shook his head. Boody
really bothers over much about the Lincolnshire handicap, He said,
you see it's too early in the season for even
the gamblers to put their money down with any assurance.
One doesn't know much, and it is almost impossible to
tell what horses are in form. I verily believe that
(10:16):
Nemesis will win, but everything is against her, you see,
the Lincoln continued, Horace doubtfully is a race which is
not usually won by a filly. And then two, she
is a sprinter. I know sprinters have won the race before,
and every year have been confidently expected to win it again.
But the averages are all against a horse like Nemesis.
(10:38):
But I thought, she said in wonder that you were
so confident about her. He laughed a little. Well, you know,
one is awfully confident on Monday and full of doubts
on Tuesday. That is part of the game. The form
of the horses is not half as inconsistent as the
form of the owners. I shall probably meet a man
this morning who will tell me that some horse is
(10:59):
an absolute certainty for the last race of the day.
He will hold me by the buttonhole, and he will
drum into me the fact that this is the most
extraordinarily easy method of picking up money that was ever
invented since racing started. When I meet him after the
last race, he will coolly inform me that he did
not back that horse, but had some tip at the
(11:19):
last moment from an obscure individual who knew the owner's odds. Sister,
you mustn't expect one to be consistent. I still think
Nemesis will win, he went on, but I am not
so confident as I was. The most cock sure of students,
gets a little glum in the face of the examiner.
The earl had joined them and was listening to the
conversation with a certain amount of grim amusement. Aike is
(11:43):
certain Timbolina will win, he said, even in the face
of the examiner. Somebody has just told me that the
examiner is rather soft underfoot. You mean the course, asked Horace,
a little anxiously. The Earl nodded. It won't suit yours,
my friend, he said a sprinter, essaying the Lincolnshire wants
good going. I can see myself taking fifteen hundred pounds
(12:06):
back to London to day. Have you backed Timbolino. Don't
ask impertinent questions, said the earl, curtly, and unnecessary questions.
He went on, you know, infernally well, I backed Timbolino.
Don't you believe me? I've backed it, and I'm afraid
I'm not going to win. Afraid whatever faults the old
(12:27):
man had, Horace knew him for a good loser. The
Earl nodded, he was not amused. Now he had dropped
like a cloak, the assumption of that little, unpleasant, leering
attitude he was, Horace saw for the first time a
singularly good looking old man. The firm lines of the
mouth were straight, and the pale face and repose looked
(12:48):
a little sad. Yes, I'm afraid, he said. His voice
was even and without the bitter quality of cynicism which
was his everlasting pose. This race makes it's a lot
of difference to some people. It doesn't affect me very much,
he said, and the corner of his mouth twitched a little.
But there are people, he went on, seriously, to whom
(13:10):
this race makes a difference between life and death. There
was a sudden return to his usual abrupt manner. Eh,
how does that strike you for good melodrama, mister Gresham.
Horace shook his head in bewilderment. I'm afraid I don't
follow you at all. Lord Verland. You may follow me
in another way, said the Earl briskly. Here is my car.
(13:32):
Good morning. Horace watched him out of sight, and then
made his way to the racecourse. The old man had
puzzled him not a little he bore, as Horace knew,
a reputation which, if naught unsavory, was at least unpleasant.
He was credited with having the most malicious tongue in London.
But when Horace came to think of it, as he
(13:53):
did walking along the banks of the river on his
way to the course, there was little that the old
man had ever said which would injure or hurt innocent people.
His cynicism was, in the main directed against his own class.
His savageness, most manifested against notorious sinners men like Sir
Isaac Trember felt the lash of his tongue. His treatment
(14:16):
of his heir was, of course inexcusable. The Earl himself
never excused it. He persistently avoided the subject, and it
would be a bold man who would dare to raise
so unpleasant a topic against the Earl's wishes. He was
known to be extraordinarily wealthy, and Horace Gresham had reason
for congratulating himself that he had been specially blessed with
(14:39):
this world's goods. Otherwise his prospects would not have been
of the brightest. That he was himself enormously rich precluded
any suggestion, and the suggestion would have been inevitable that
he hunted Lady Mary's fortune. It was a matter of
supreme indifference to himself whether she inherited the Verlon millions
or whether she came to him empty handed. There were
(15:01):
other people in Lincoln that day who did not take
so philosophical a view of the situation. Sir Isaac had
driven straight to the house on the hill leading to
the Minster, which Black had engaged for two days. He
was in a very bad temper when at last he
reached his destination. Black was sitting at lunch. Black looked
up as the other entered. Hello, ikey, He said, come
(15:24):
and sit down. Sir Isaac looked at the menu with
some disfavor. Thanks, he said shortly, I've lunched on the train.
I want to talk to you. Talk away, said Black,
helping himself to another cutlet. He was a good trencherman,
a man who found exquisite enjoyment in his meals. Look here,
Black said Isaac. Things are pretty desperate. Unless that infernal
(15:48):
horse of mine wins to day, I shall not know
what to do for money. I know one thing you
won't be able to do, said Black coolly, and that
is come to me. I am in as great straits
as you who He pushed back his plate and took
a cigar case from his pocket. What do we stand
to win on this timbolina of yours? About twenty five
(16:09):
thousand pounds, said Sir Isaac moodily. I don't know if
the infernal thing will win. It would be just my
luck if it doesn't. I'm afraid of this horse. Abgression's
Black laughed softly. That's a new fear of yours, he said.
I don't remember having heard it before. It's no laughing matter,
said the other. I had my trainer tubs down watching
(16:31):
her work. She is immensely fast. The only thing is
whether she can stay the distance. Can't she be got at?
Asked Black? Got At, said the other impatiently. The race
will be run in three hours time. Where do you
get your idea of racing from? He asked irritably. You
can't poison horses at three hours notice. You can't even
(16:52):
poison them at three days notice unless you've got the
trainer in with you, and trainers of that kind only
live in novels. Black was carefully cutting the end of
his cigar. So if your horse loses, we shall be
in High Street, Halborough, he reflected, I have backed it
to save my life. He said this in grim earnest.
(17:13):
He rang a bell. The servant came in. Tell them
to bring round the carriage, he said. He looked at
his watch. I am not particularly keen on racing, but
I think I shall enjoy this day in the open.
Gives one a chance of thinking. End of Chapter eleven.
Chapter eleven of The Just Men of Cordoba by Edgar Wallace.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Atolsharma, Winnipeg, Canada,
Chapter eleven to Lincoln Races. Sir Isaac Tramber went to
Lincoln in an evil frame of mind. He had reserved
a compartment, and cursed his luck when he discovered that
(00:23):
his reservation adjoined that of Horace Gresham. He paced the
long platform at King's Cross, waiting for his guests. The
Earl of Verlande had promised to go down with him
and to bring Lady Mary, and it was no joy
to Sir Isaac to observe on the adjoining carriage to
the label reserved for mister Horace Gresham and party. Horace
(00:45):
came along about five minutes before the train started. He
was as cheerful as the noonday sun, in striking contrast
to Sir Isaac, whose night had not been too wisely spent.
He nodded carelessly to Sir ISAC's almost imperceptible greeting. The
baronet glanced at his watch and inwardly swore at the
(01:06):
old Earl in his caprices. It wanted three minutes to
the hour at which the train left. His tongue was
framing a bitter indictment of the old man when he
caught a glimpse of his tall, angular figure striding along
the platform. Thought we weren't coming, I suppose, asked the Earl,
as he made his way to the compartment. I say
(01:27):
you thought we weren't coming, he repeated, as Lady Mary
entered the compartment, assisted with awkward solicitude by Sir Isaac. Well,
I didn't expect you to be late. We are not late,
said the Earl. He settled himself comfortably in a corner seat,
the seat which Sir Isaac had specially arranged for the
girl friends of his and of the old man, who
(01:50):
passed nodded an indiscreet few came up to speak. Going
up to Lincoln, Lord Verlon, asked one idle youth. No,
said the Earl sweetly. I'm going going to bed with
the mumps. He snarled the last word, and the young seeker,
after information fled. You can sit by me, Ike, leave
Mary alone, said the old man, sharply. I want to
(02:12):
know all about this horse. I have a hundred and
fifty pounds on this thoroughbred of yours. It is far
more important than those fatuous inquiries you intend making of
my niece. Inquiries, grumbled Sir Isaac, resentfully. Inquiries, repeated the other.
You want to know whether she slept last night, whether
she finds it too warm in this carriage, whether she
(02:34):
would like a corner seat or a middle seat, her
back to the engine or her face to the engine.
Leave her alone, Leave her alone, ike, she'll decide all that.
I know her better than you, He glared, with that
amusing glint in his eyes across at the girl. Young
Gresham is in the next carriage. Go and tap at
the window and bring him out. Go along. He's got
(02:57):
some friends there, I think, uncle, said the girl. Never
mind about his friends, said Vermond irritably. What the devil
does it matter about his friends? Aren't you a friend?
Go and tap at the door and bring him out.
Sir Isaac was fuming. I don't want him in here,
he said loudly. You seem to forget, Verlon that if
you want to talk about horses, this is the very
(03:18):
chap we should know nothing about. Timbolino Ah, said the
earl testily. Don't you suppose he knows all there is
to be known. What do you think sporting papers are for?
Sporting papers can't tell a man what the owner knows,
said Sir Isaac. Importantly, they tell me more than he knows.
He said your horse was favorite yesterday morning. It isn't
(03:39):
favorite any more. Ikey, I can't control the investments of
silly asses, grumbled Sir Isaac. Accept one, said the Earl rudely.
But these silly acids you refer to do not throw
their money away. Remember that, Ikey, when you have had
as much racing as I have had, and one as
much money as I have won, you'll take no notice
of what owners think of their horses. You might as
(04:02):
well ask a mother to give a candid opinion of
her own daughter's charms as to ask an owner for
unbiased information about his own horse. The train had slipped
through the grimy purluds of London and was now speeding
through green fields to Hatfield. It was a glorious spring day,
mellow with sunlight, such a day as a man at
(04:22):
peace with the world might live with complete enjoyment. Sir
Isaac was not in this happy position, nor was he
in a mood to discuss either the probity of racing
men or the general question of the sport itself. He observed,
with an inward curse, the girl rise and walk apparently
carelessly into the corridor. He could have sworn he heard
(04:45):
a tap at the window of the next compartment, But
in this, of course, he was wrong. She merely moved
across the vision of the little coterie, who sat laughing
and talking, and in an instant Horace had come out.
It is not my fault, this really, she him, with
a little flush in her cheeks. It was uncle's idea.
Your uncle is an admirable old gentleman, said Horace fervently.
(05:08):
I retract anything I may have said to his discredit.
I will tell him, she said, with maud gravity. No, no,
cried Horace. I don't want you to do that exactly.
I want to talk to you, seriously, said she suddenly
come into our compartment. Uncle and Sir Isaac are so
busy discussing the merits of Timbolina. Is that the right name?
(05:30):
He nodded, his lips twitching with amusement. That they won't
notice anything we have to say, she concluded. The old
Earl gave him a curt nod, Sir Isaac only vouchsafed
to scowl. It was difficult to maintain anything like a
confidential character in their conversation, but by maneuvering so that
they spoke only of the more important things, when Sir
(05:52):
Isaac and his truculent guest were at the most heated
point of their argument, she was able to unburden the
anxiety of her mind. I am worried about uncle, she said,
in a low tone. Is he ill? Asked Horace. She
shook her head. No, it isn't his illness yet. It
may be, but he is so contradictory. I am so
(06:13):
afraid that it might react to our disadvantage. You know
how willing he was that you should She hesitated, and
his hands sought hers under the cover of an open newspaper.
It was marvelous, he whispered, wasn't it. I never expected
for one moment that the old dev that your dear uncle,
he corrected himself, would have been so amenable. She nodded again.
(06:36):
You see, she said, taking advantage of another heated passage
between the old man and the irritated baronet. What he
does so impetuously he can undo just as easily. I
am so afraid he will turn and rend you. Let
him try, said Horace. I am not easily rent. Their
conversation was cut short abruptly by the intervention of the
(06:58):
man they were discussing. Look here, Gresham, snapped the earl shortly.
You're one of the cognoscenti, and I suppose you know everything.
Who are the four just men I hear people talking about?
Horace was conscious of the fact that the eyes of
Sir Isaac Trember were fixed on him. Curiously. He was
a man who made no disguise of his suspicion. I
(07:20):
know no more than you, said Horace. They seem to
me to be an admirable body of people who go
about correcting social evils. Who are they to judge what
is and what is not evil? Growled the earl, scowling
from under his heavy eyebrows. Infernal cheek. What do we
pay judges and jurymen and coroners and policemen and people
of that sort for? Eh? What do we pay taxes
(07:43):
for and rent for, and police rates and gas rates
and water rates and every kind of damn rate that
the devilish ingenuity of man can devise? Do we do
it that these jackanapes can come along and interfere with
the course of justice. It's absurd, It's ridiculous, he stormed.
Horace threw out a protesting hand. Don't blame me, he said,
(08:05):
But you approve of them accused the earl Ikey says
you do. And Ike knows everything, don't you, Ikey. Sir
Isaac shifted uncomfortably in his seat. I didn't say Gresham
knew anything about it, he began, lamely. Why do you lie, Ike,
Why do you lie? Asked the old man testily. You
just told me that you were perfectly sure that Gresham
(08:26):
was one of the leading spirits of the gang. Sir Isaac,
inured as he was to the brutal indiscretions of his friends,
went to dull red. Oh, I didn't mean that exactly,
he said, awkwardly and a little angrily. Dash it, Lord
Verloand don't embarrass a fellow by rendering him liable to
heavy damages and all that sort of thing. Horace was
(08:48):
unperturbed by the other's confusion. You needn't bother yourself, he
said coolly. I should never think of taking you to
a court of justice. He turned again to the girl
and the Earl claim the baronet's attention. The old man
had a trick of striking off at a tangent from
one subject to another. He leaped like a will of
the wisp. Before Horace had framed half a dozen words,
(09:11):
the old man was dragging his unwilling victim along episcatorial road,
and Sir Isaac was floundering out of his depths in
a morass. If the metaphor be excused of salmon fishing,
trout poaching, pike fishing, a sport on which Sir Isaac
Trember could, by no means deem himself an authority. It
(09:31):
was soon after lunch that the train pulled into Lincoln.
Horace usually rented a house outside the town, but this
year he'd arranged to go and return to London on
the same night. At the station, he parted with the girl.
I shall see you on the course, He said, what
are your arrangements? You go back to town tonight? She nodded.
(09:53):
Is this a very important race for you to win?
She asked a little anxiously. He shook his head. Boody
really bothers over much about the Lincolnshire handicap, He said,
you see it's too early in the season for even
the gamblers to put their money down with any assurance.
One doesn't know much, and it is almost impossible to
tell what horses are in form. I verily believe that
(10:16):
Nemesis will win, but everything is against her, you see,
the Lincoln continued, Horace doubtfully is a race which is
not usually won by a filly. And then two, she
is a sprinter. I know sprinters have won the race before,
and every year have been confidently expected to win it again.
But the averages are all against a horse like Nemesis.
(10:38):
But I thought, she said in wonder that you were
so confident about her. He laughed a little. Well, you know,
one is awfully confident on Monday and full of doubts
on Tuesday. That is part of the game. The form
of the horses is not half as inconsistent as the
form of the owners. I shall probably meet a man
this morning who will tell me that some horse is
(10:59):
an absolute certainty for the last race of the day.
He will hold me by the buttonhole, and he will
drum into me the fact that this is the most
extraordinarily easy method of picking up money that was ever
invented since racing started. When I meet him after the
last race, he will coolly inform me that he did
not back that horse, but had some tip at the
(11:19):
last moment from an obscure individual who knew the owner's odds. Sister,
you mustn't expect one to be consistent. I still think
Nemesis will win, he went on, but I am not
so confident as I was. The most cock sure of students,
gets a little glum in the face of the examiner.
The earl had joined them and was listening to the
conversation with a certain amount of grim amusement. Aike is
(11:43):
certain Timbolina will win, he said, even in the face
of the examiner. Somebody has just told me that the
examiner is rather soft underfoot. You mean the course, asked Horace,
a little anxiously. The Earl nodded. It won't suit yours,
my friend, he said a sprinter, essaying the Lincolnshire wants
good going. I can see myself taking fifteen hundred pounds
(12:06):
back to London to day. Have you backed Timbolino. Don't
ask impertinent questions, said the earl, curtly, and unnecessary questions.
He went on, you know, infernally well, I backed Timbolino.
Don't you believe me? I've backed it, and I'm afraid
I'm not going to win. Afraid whatever faults the old
(12:27):
man had, Horace knew him for a good loser. The
Earl nodded, he was not amused. Now he had dropped
like a cloak, the assumption of that little, unpleasant, leering
attitude he was, Horace saw for the first time a
singularly good looking old man. The firm lines of the
mouth were straight, and the pale face and repose looked
(12:48):
a little sad. Yes, I'm afraid, he said. His voice
was even and without the bitter quality of cynicism which
was his everlasting pose. This race makes it's a lot
of difference to some people. It doesn't affect me very much,
he said, and the corner of his mouth twitched a little.
But there are people, he went on, seriously, to whom
(13:10):
this race makes a difference between life and death. There
was a sudden return to his usual abrupt manner. Eh,
how does that strike you for good melodrama, mister Gresham.
Horace shook his head in bewilderment. I'm afraid I don't
follow you at all. Lord Verland. You may follow me
in another way, said the Earl briskly. Here is my car.
(13:32):
Good morning. Horace watched him out of sight, and then
made his way to the racecourse. The old man had
puzzled him not a little he bore, as Horace knew,
a reputation which, if naught unsavory, was at least unpleasant.
He was credited with having the most malicious tongue in London.
But when Horace came to think of it, as he
(13:53):
did walking along the banks of the river on his
way to the course, there was little that the old
man had ever said which would injure or hurt innocent people.
His cynicism was, in the main directed against his own class.
His savageness, most manifested against notorious sinners men like Sir
Isaac Trember felt the lash of his tongue. His treatment
(14:16):
of his heir was, of course inexcusable. The Earl himself
never excused it. He persistently avoided the subject, and it
would be a bold man who would dare to raise
so unpleasant a topic against the Earl's wishes. He was
known to be extraordinarily wealthy, and Horace Gresham had reason
for congratulating himself that he had been specially blessed with
(14:39):
this world's goods. Otherwise his prospects would not have been
of the brightest. That he was himself enormously rich precluded
any suggestion, and the suggestion would have been inevitable that
he hunted Lady Mary's fortune. It was a matter of
supreme indifference to himself whether she inherited the Verlon millions
or whether she came to him empty handed. There were
(15:01):
other people in Lincoln that day who did not take
so philosophical a view of the situation. Sir Isaac had
driven straight to the house on the hill leading to
the Minster, which Black had engaged for two days. He
was in a very bad temper when at last he
reached his destination. Black was sitting at lunch. Black looked
up as the other entered. Hello, ikey, He said, come
(15:24):
and sit down. Sir Isaac looked at the menu with
some disfavor. Thanks, he said shortly, I've lunched on the train.
I want to talk to you. Talk away, said Black,
helping himself to another cutlet. He was a good trencherman,
a man who found exquisite enjoyment in his meals. Look here,
Black said Isaac. Things are pretty desperate. Unless that infernal
(15:48):
horse of mine wins to day, I shall not know
what to do for money. I know one thing you
won't be able to do, said Black coolly, and that
is come to me. I am in as great straits
as you who He pushed back his plate and took
a cigar case from his pocket. What do we stand
to win on this timbolina of yours? About twenty five
(16:09):
thousand pounds, said Sir Isaac moodily. I don't know if
the infernal thing will win. It would be just my
luck if it doesn't. I'm afraid of this horse. Abgression's
Black laughed softly. That's a new fear of yours, he said.
I don't remember having heard it before. It's no laughing matter,
said the other. I had my trainer tubs down watching
(16:31):
her work. She is immensely fast. The only thing is
whether she can stay the distance. Can't she be got at?
Asked Black? Got At, said the other impatiently. The race
will be run in three hours time. Where do you
get your idea of racing from? He asked irritably. You
can't poison horses at three hours notice. You can't even
(16:52):
poison them at three days notice unless you've got the
trainer in with you, and trainers of that kind only
live in novels. Black was carefully cutting the end of
his cigar. So if your horse loses, we shall be
in High Street, Halborough, he reflected, I have backed it
to save my life. He said this in grim earnest.
(17:13):
He rang a bell. The servant came in. Tell them
to bring round the carriage, he said. He looked at
his watch. I am not particularly keen on racing, but
I think I shall enjoy this day in the open.
Gives one a chance of thinking. End of Chapter eleven.
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