"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.
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