His
father's face darkened; his eyes grew fierce.
"Jasper! always Jasper," he snarled, even as Mortimer Shelton had done.
"It's a pity he didn't break his neck this morning, instead of his
miserable tool."
Adrien uttered a protesting exclamation; he would have sacrificed
anything sooner than have given his father this opportunity to revile
his friend.
"You must be blind, sir," continued Lord Barminster, now working himself
up into a rage. "Did not you see and hear enough from that jockey this
morning to make you realise what that precious friend of yours had done?
I tell you, Adrien, that Jasper Vermont bribed that miserable man to
rope your horse. For him, you have allowed your friends, my guests, to
be swindled out of their money."
It was the first time in Adrien's recollection that the proud old man
had ever even hinted that Barminster Castle was not entirely his son's
yet; that the guests were those of his father's choice as well of his
own.
Adrien's eyes blazed.
"Father," he said in a low voice, but as hard as steel, "I know you have
always hated Mr. Vermont, but this goes farther than hate. Forgive me if
I ask you, but surely you have some proofs? Otherwise you would not have
accused him of such villainy.
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