The Rider in Khaki Part 26

As for Alan, in the rush and turmoil of departure he almost forgot the question of an immediate marriage. It could not take place yet, so why trouble about it? Eve was his and he was satisfied. On the whole he considered it perhaps as well they were not married. There was no telling what might happen to him and she would be in a better position if he succ.u.mbed to the chances of war. Not that he had any fears on that score; he looked forward to the coming struggle in a very optimistic mood.

CHAPTER XVI

JANE'S LOVE AFFAIR

The battle raged; the German hordes pushed forward; the great retreat began. Paris seemed about to fall and there was anxiety in the Allied forces. Prodigies of valor were chronicled in a few lines of s.p.a.ce; the British army, greatly outnumbered, was holding the enemy. The advance was slow, a wonderful retreat, perhaps the most heroic known until almost equaled by the Russians later on.

Then came the news that the enemy was checked, they in turn were driven back when Paris seemed within their grasp. The Germans were held and the situation saved. It was marvelous, and the "little army," under Sir John French was covered in glory. Britain thrilled at the news of her soldiers' bravery. They fought as of old, fought as at Waterloo, at Inkerman, at the Alma, and Balaklava. They had not degenerated, the same spirit animated them; they knew how to die, and how to win. For forty years the Germans had been trained for war, and their ma.s.ses were held up by men who had known peace for many years.

The Sherwoods had their chance and took it. The Uhlans were no match for them; they were bowled over like ninepins. Men and horses fell in heaps before the terrible charge. Captain Chesney was in the thick of it all. Rash, brave, knowing no danger, he was a typical cavalry officer; and that master of cavalry tactics, Sir John French, heard of his bravery and recognized it. After their first action Alan Chesney was the idol of the Sherwoods. The men followed him into the jaws of death and cheered as he led them on. Nothing could stand before them, their impetuosity overcame all obstacles; they lost many men but gained imperishable renown.

Eve Berkeley read the meager accounts of the fighting and grew impatient, longing for more, wondering why publicity was not given to the doings of the bravest of the brave. Alan's name cropped up once or twice, she gathered from the vague lines that he had done wonders, that his bravery was conspicuous, that his men loved him, and she was proud of him.

Week after week pa.s.sed and she only had one or two lines from him.

There was no time to write long letters, she must wait until he was out of the saddle for an hour or two. She knew how difficult it must be to write, yet longed to hear, and each morning looked for a letter. When it did not come she scanned the papers in fear and trembling. She little knew the narrow escapes he had already experienced, and he came out of terrible frays with hardly a scratch. When horses were shot under him a trooper was always ready with another for him with a "take mine, sir." Alan reveled in the fury of the charge; his whole body thrilled as he galloped down on the Uhlans at headlong speed. This was soldiering indeed; no playing; deadly, grim earnest, a toss-up for life or death. He grieved at the loss of men, but the fewer in number the more they were united and proved irresistible. During the retreat they were here and there and everywhere, scouting, thwarting the enemy, breaking up his plans, a thorn in his side p.r.i.c.king deep. Seldom out of the saddle, he had little time to think of home and Eve Berkeley.

At Trent Park things went on much as usual. Eve went over occasionally; her visits were in no way resented, everything was made smooth for her.

At the stud she was always welcome. Sam Kerridge appreciated her at her full worth; said she knew more about horses than half the men he met, that she had an eye for a good 'un, and could fault the inferior sort.

"Blest if I couldn't leave her in charge for a month without the slightest fear of anything going wrong," he said.

Alfonso had taken the place of Mameluke, and there seemed every chance of his being as popular with owners of mares, but the shadow of war over the land was likely to have some effect on the big studs. Already there was talk of cutting down expenses and selling off.

Carl Meason still had his rooms at the Sherwood Inn and Abel Head wondered if he were right in his surmise that he was a spy. He argued that a spy would hardly bury himself at Little Trent in war time; still, there was no telling. Meason went out in his motor at night more than usual; moreover he carried a very powerful light and there was an unusually strong one inside the car.

"What's this for?" asked Abel as he examined it.

"The police are very particular about lights, so I've got this ready in case one of the others goes out," was the reply.

"Must give a powerful glare," commented Abel.

"It does. Nothing like seeing far enough ahead," said Carl.

Abel was not satisfied. He had never seen such big lamps inside a car before and he did not believe Meason's reason for having it. Although he had plenty on hand Carl Meason found time to meet Jane Thrush.

After much persuasion he induced her to go in his car to Nottingham to see the sights, and strange to say Tom raised no objections. Thrush seemed favorably impressed with Meason; no doubt an occasional fiver helped in this direction, for Tom was fond of money.

"Where's the harm?" he said to himself. "Jane's a clever girl, knows more than the ordinary, and she's good enough for any man. He seems sweet on her. No reason why he should not marry her. There's money, not a doubt or he couldn't sling fivers about like he does."

All the same he questioned Jane closely after her return from Nottingham; but she was reticent. Not given to talking much himself he did not pay so much notice to this as he might otherwise have done.

Carl Meason was a man to attract a girl like Jane Thrush. He could be agreeable when he chose; his face concealed his real feelings--it was a mask and effectually changed the man to outward appearances. Meason was making the mistake of his life. He was fast becoming infatuated with Jane Thrush, subordinating certain objects to her, spending time in her company. The work he had in hand brooked no interference. It was sufficiently dangerous; there must be no leakage. Not a hint or a whisper must get about or he would be in grave danger on both sides.

His employers were ruthless, and the authorities in England would not be likely to spare even his life if they got wind of his purpose and how he was working.

Jane Thrush held him in the hollow of her hand did she but know it. At present she was too innocent to suspect his real nature and she never dreamed what he was about. She would not have understood his affairs had they been explained to her. Jane merely saw in him a well-to-do man, who talked to her with respect, and was evidently more than half in love with her. She was not conceited although she had a proper sense of her importance and good looks, which was fostered by her father.

During the drive to Nottingham and back Carl Meason made love to her in ardent fas.h.i.+on and she had not repulsed him although she was careful to keep him within bounds. One thing Tom Thrush had effectually taught his daughter and that was the perils to which pretty girls are exposed.

He had made no bones about it, spoke out plainly, and Jane learned the lesson well.

"Her's got no mother," Tom said to himself, "and it's my place to warn her. She'd best know what's what and then she can't stumble with her eyes open," and in his rough way he saw farther than people who avoided responsibilities in this direction.

Jane was therefore well armed against the wiles of unprincipled men, although it had hitherto been her good fortune not to encounter any.

There had been kisses and embraces and Jane accepted them without much enthusiasm or response. Carl Meason's lovemaking left her cold; somehow she hardly thought it real. She did not tell Tom of these embraces and he forebore to push inquiries. His occupation made him suspicious and watchful; he was the terror of poachers and evil-doers among the game, and had tracked many notorious men down. Although he loved money he surmised that Carl Meason's occasional fivers were not given for nothing, they were to smooth the way for Jane's favor.

If the man meant well by his daughter there was no harm done; if ill, then he would settle with him in a way that would astonish before any damage was done.

Carl Meason quickly discovered he would have to play straight with Jane Thrush, also her father, and for once in a way he was inclined to do this; it was after all the easiest to get what he wanted.

So far he had never given much thought to taking a wife, but when he considered everything, turning the pros and cons over, he came to the conclusion Jane Thrush was worth some sort of sacrifice. He would not surrender any of his liberty, once she was his he would mold her to his will; he fancied this would be easy--he was mistaken, as better men have been.

It was a relief from his work to talk and make love to Jane, also to think about her at night when touring round the country in his motor.

There were other things to think about, and sometimes he dreaded what might happen when the time came for the devilish engines of destruction to work. Carl valued human life little, except in the care of his own body, and had been instrumental in sending many to death. He knew there were thousands of Germans in the country; they had been spying out the land for years, and he wondered at the supineness of the authorities in allowing it. He cared little who won the war so long as he reaped his reward. He would have been willing to accept pay from both sides had it been feasible.

If he had a better side to his nature Jane Thrush seemed likely to find it, but even she would have to walk warily if in his power. Jane's pretty face had won a sort of victory over him; he acknowledged his submission with a wry grimace, thinking she would be called upon to submit in her turn.

Meanwhile Jane hesitated as to what she would do if he asked her to be his wife, as she believed he would. To solve her doubts, she asked her father. Tom eyed her curiously; he was sleepy and barely grasped her question.

"What did yer say, la.s.s?" he asked.

"If Mr. Meason asks me to be his wife what answer shall I give him?"

Tom was awake now. This was important.

"He'll ask, you reckon?"

"I believe he will."

"Then please yourself, la.s.s. He's a well-favored man, seems well off, he'd make a good husband," said Tom.

"Perhaps he would," said Jane doubtfully.

CHAPTER XVII

THE LAY OF THE LAND

Race meetings gradually dropped out, they were few and far between; there was more important business on hand.

Fred Skane had sole control of Alan Chesney's horses during his absence and picked up a race or two to meet expenses. Alan had given no instructions to sell any of his horses, but Fred used his judgment and let three or four go in selling races. Alan impressed upon him to prepare a couple of horses to match against Bernard Hallam's Rainstorm and Southerly Buster, for he was anxious to demonstrate the superiority of the English horses.

Mr. Hallam brought his trainer from Australia, and Jack Wrench--his name--was granted permission to train at Newmarket. It was not long before two sterling good horses, Catspaw and Bellringer, four and five years old respectively, were purchased to lead the Australians in their work. Both horses had won good handicaps and came into the market on the departure of their owner for the front. Mr. Hallam paid a stiff price for them, but Jack Wrench had been advised they were worth it.

The Australian trainer was anxious to prove that Rainstorm and Southerly Buster were equal to the best handicap horses in England.

It soon got about in racing circles that there was likely to be a match between horses of Alan Chesney and those of Bernard Hallam. This news spread far and wide, and the Australians in the fighting line were as eager about it as anybody. The Anzacs had a terrible time in Gallipoli, and the Dardanelles generally, but they were always eager to discuss sport when the Turks gave them a rest for a few hours.