A gentleman pushed his way forward. "Allow me, I am Doctor Blake," he said, and he knelt down beside the still form. "He is dead," he declared solemnly, as he placed his hand on the body. The crowd fell back still further, with murmurs of horror. There was a silence, broken at last by Jasper Vermont. "Dear, dear!" he exclaimed in tones in which, had it not been for the absurdity of the idea, one might have fancied there was almost a spark of satisfaction. "How very, very sad. I wouldn't have had this happen for _anything!_" CHAPTER XI It was night and the race-course lay deserted and silent beneath the pallid moon. The noisy crowd had tramped and driven its way back to London. But there was one whom the noise and bustle of a race meet would never rouse again--Peacock the jockey, who lay dead in the stable house. His death had cast a depression over the entire Castle, and though both Adrien and his father--to say nothing of Jasper--had striven their utmost to keep the minds of the guests away from the unhappy event, it was yet an almost gloomy party that gathered after dinner in the silver drawing-room. Nearly all had lost heavily through the fall of poor "King Cole." They had had such entire faith in their champion, that his loss of the race had come like a thunder-bolt; and most of all to Adrien himself. The actual monetary loss did not seem to trouble him; indeed, it was probable that he himself was unaware of the immensity of the sum involved. Only Jasper knew, Jasper who wore his usual calm, serene smile, and certainly worked hard to banish all regrets concerning such a trifle as a dead steeplechaser, as well as any lingering memories of his dying words. "One thing is certain," said Lord Standon to Lady Constance, who had been sighing over the defeat. "Adrien will not allow any one to ride the 'King' again but himself. I heard him say so." "He has lost heavily, I'm afraid," the girl said in a low voice. "Immensely," replied Lord Standon, who himself had, lost more than he could afford--indeed, there was little doubt that this race would almost prove his ruin; but, nevertheless, his inordinate good humour and optimistic nature triumphed above every other consideration. Certainly, no word of blame or self-pity would he allow to pass his lips. "Yes, he has lost more heavily than any of us, as Mr. Vermont knows; I'll be bound," he broke off, as that gentleman approached. Jasper Vermont smiled, as he did at every question or assertion made to him. "I'm afraid he has plunged deeply this time," was his smooth reply. "Unfortunately, he only has himself to blame, though I deplore the fact that I was not with him at the time." Both Lady Constance and Lord Standon looked up, startled by his tone as much as by his words; and Jasper continued glibly: