In reply to which Mr. Vermont murmured inaudibly, as he walked away:
"It's a lucky job, my good fellow, that I shan't make you keep your
word!"
At the end of the plantation, beyond the stable buildings, there was a
little cottage attached to the straw-yard. Having reached this, Jasper
listened attentively; then, without any warning knock, he lifted the
latch, and entered.
To all appearances the room was empty, save for some pieces of poor
furniture. But the visitor, blinking at the sudden transition from light
to darkness, walked over to a rough couch, where lay the misshapen
jockey Peacock, either asleep or deep in thought. Jasper shook him
angrily by the shoulder, and a sullen scowl darkened the little
monkey-like face as he recognised his visitor.
"Well?" he said gruffly, without attempting to change his position.
"Short, and not polite!" retorted Jasper, shaking him again. "Didn't I
tell you I'd come here to-day, you imp of darkness?"
"You did, guv'nor," the man replied sullenly.
"Well, here I am. You're not drunk, are you? Here--let's look at you."
With a cruel smile, the soft, amiable Mr. Vermont seized the ear of the
dwarfed jockey and dragged him to the light.
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