Meet The Baron Read Online Free Page A

stayer.”
    “Marriland is coming up,” said Mannering.
    He was thinking less of Feodora and Marriland, battling now towards the two-mile post ready for the straight run home, than of Lord Fauntley and the Liska diamond. The Post that morning had recorded, with its superb indifference, that Fauntley had outbidden Rawson for the diamond at the figure of nine thousand seven hundred and fifty pounds. The Liska would eventually adorn the plump neck of the peeress, and it was difficult to imagine a less worthy resting-place - or so Mannering believed. Hm! A particularly foolish train of thought.
    Was it? Fauntley could stand the loss.
    “Where is she?” muttered Fauntley irritably. “Damn it, Mannering, you know my eyes aren’t what they were.”
    “Still second,” said Mannering, “and turning into the straight. Ah! Simmons is touching her. Good boy, Simmons! She’ll do it.”
    The excitement of the finish stirred him now. Feodora and Marriland pounded along the hard track, with the rest of the bunch fighting for third place. The murmur of the crowd was fiercer now, and the sea of white faces turned towards the two horses. Feodora’s jockey was using his whip, flicking his horse’s flank. Jackson, on Marriland, was hitting his mount. Mannering was watching the faces of the two jockeys through his glasses. Simmons’ tense, expectant, hopeful, and Jackson’s grim almost to fierceness. Yard by yard the battle was fought, with the winning-post within a hundred yards - ninety - eighty - “Neck and neck,” muttered Fauntley nervously.
    “She’ll do it,” said Mannering. “Come on, Simmons - another yard - you’re in the lead.”
    Fifty yards to go - forty- - thirty - Lord Fauntley hopped on one foot, then on the other. Mannering’s eyes were very hard and bright. Simmons was almost home.
    “Hey!” bellowed Lord Fauntley. “Hey! Hurray! She’s won Feodora, Feodora.” He remembered himself suddenly, and scowled. “Sorry, Mannering - excitement. Ha! She won, then, she won! Do well?”
    “Fair,” said Mannering. For some reason, one that he could hardly understand, he was tempted to exaggerate his winnings. “I had a thousand with Blackjack, doubled with Feodora.”
    “A thousand? Doubled?” Fauntley choked.
    “Hm-hm,” said Mannering, and laughed.
     
    7.00 p.m. “Met that astonishing fellow Mannering,” said Lord Fauntley, as he kissed his wife and dropped into an easy-chair. “Parker - a whisky, with plenty of soda. Astonishing fellow, m’dear - had six thousand on Feodora, and didn’t turn a hair.”
    “Six thousand!” gasped Lady Fauntley. “Why the man must be a - a veritable - mustn’t he?”
    “Seems so, seems so,” admitted Fauntley. “Parker, I want that to-day. Not a hair, m’dear - never seen anyone take it easier than he did. Talked about the Liska diamond half-way through the race. Parker!”
    “Soda - and whisky, m’lord,” said Parker.
    “Ha! Parker, Mr John Mannering will be here for dinner.”
    “Very good, m’lord,” said Parker. He went downstairs to relate the latest information, knowing well that the visit of Mannering would pleasantly excite the feminine members of the staff.
    Meanwhile Fauntley sipped his whisky and waited for his wife to voice appreciation of his effort.
    “You invited him to dinner?” Lady Fauntley preened herself, and patted her husband’s hand. “That will show Emmy that she doesn’t have all the good fortune, Hugo. How thoughtful of you to invite him!”
    “Always thoughtful for you, m’dear.” Fauntley patted his wife’s hand in turn, finished his whisky-and soda, and smiled. “I think you could wear the Liska to-night. I didn’t know Mannering was interested in stones, but he seems to be, and if he is he’ll notice it.”
    “I’m sure he will,” said Lady Fauntley. “Hugo, do you think we ought to ‘phone Lorna and tell her?”
    “Lorna?” Lord Hugo thought suddenly of his daughter, who was not merely single, but