“You look unhappy, Bess,” he said, “but I am more at ease than I have been for a long time. Come what may, this day I am a free man. Never since I grew hair on my face have I not been in slavery to horses and stablemen and jockeys and the whole gang. Of course, it is no easy thing to give this up; it has had its recompenses. I haven’t had many happier moments in my life than when Black Bess romped in ahead of Skelton’s Monarch that day so many years ago. In fact, the pleasure of beating Skelton has been one of the greatest seductions of the whole thing. But when he put his mind to it he could beat me. Now, however, I don’t propose to give him the chance again. That will be pretty hard on him, considering that he has poured out money like water to do it. From this day, my dear, I am no longer a racing man.” Elizabeth brightened at this. No matter what might come, there was no longer this terrible apprehension all the time of “debts of honour” hanging over them. Mrs. Blair, being naturally rather vain and very proud, would have liked a splendid costume to wear on this momentous occasion, and a coach and four to drive up to the grand stand in. But her very best gown was shabby, and her carriage was on its last legs. However she looked remarkably well on horseback, and there was Black Bess, retired from the turf, but yet made a very fine appearance under the saddle. She concluded that she would go on horseback, and Blair would ride with her. At one o’clock in the day the Campdown course was full, the grand stand crowded with all the gentry in the county, and everybody was on the tiptoe of expectation. It was no mere question of winning a race--it was whether Skelton would succeed in ruining Blair, or would Blair escape from Skelton. Skelton was on hand, having ridden over with Lewis. He was as cool, as distinguished looking, as immaculately correct as ever. People thought he had little at stake compared with Blair. But Skelton thought he had a great deal, for he had to have his vengeance then, or be robbed of it. He knew well enough that it was his last chance. Tom Shapleigh was there, and Mrs. Shapleigh and Sylvia, who looked remarkably pretty, and everybody in the county, even Bulstrode, who dreaded the catastrophe, but who could not forbear witnessing it. Skelton, with Lewis close by him, walked about the quarter stretch and infield. Everybody received him courteously, even obsequiously, for Skelton was their local great man. But nobody took the slightest notice of Lewis beyond a nod. The boy, with a bursting heart, realised this when he saw Hilary Blair surrounded by half a dozen boys of his own age, and being petted by the women and slapped on the back and chaffed by the older men.