"You’ll excuse my saying so, sir, I hope," said Belton, as he poured out his master’s hot water and laid his dressing-gown upon the back of a chair, ready for him to put on, "but it’s a terrible risky business. If we don’t bring it off, there’ll be such a noise in England as has never been heard before. You might murder the Prime Minister, I believe, and it wouldn’t count for so much with the people generally as an attempt to steal the Derby favorite." "But we shall not fail," said Carne, confidently. "By this time you ought to know me better than to suppose that. No, no, never fear, Belton; I’ve got all my plans cut and dried, and even if we fail to get possession of Vulcanite, the odds are a thousand to one against our being suspected of any complicity in the matter. Now you can go to bed. Good-night." "Good-night, sir," said Belton respectfully, and left the room. It was one of Simon Carne’s peculiarities always to fulfill his engagements in spite of any inconvenience they might cause himself. Accordingly the four o’clock train from Waterloo, on the Monday following the meeting at the Music Hall just narrated, carried him to Merford in pursuance of the promise he had given his trainer. Reaching the little wayside station on the edge of the Downs, he alighted, to find himself welcomed by his trainer, who lifted his hat respectfully, and wished him good-afternoon. During the drive, Carne spoke of the impending race, and among other things of a letter he had that morning received, warning him of an attempt that would probably be made to obtain possession of his good horse. The trainer laughed good-humoredly. "Bless you, sir," he said, "that’s nothing. You should just see some of the letters I’ve got pasted into my scrap-book. Most of ’em comes a week or fortnight before a big race. Some of ’em warns me that if I don’t prevent the horse from starting, I’m as good as a dead man; others ask me what price I will take to let him finish outside the first three; while more still tell me that if I don’t put ’im out of the way altogether, I’ll find my house and my wife and family flying up to the clouds under a full charge of dynamite within three days of the race being run. Don’t you pay any attention to the letters you receive. I’ll look after the horse, and you may be very sure I’ll take good care that nothing happens to him." "I know that, of course," said Carne, "but I thought I’d tell you. You see, I’m only a novice at racing, and perhaps I place more importance just now upon a threat of that kind than I shall do a couple of years hence." "Of course," replied the trainer. "I understand exactly how you feel, sir. It’s quite natural. And now here we are, with the missis standing on the steps to help me give you a hearty welcome."