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BY

RICHARD PARKER



we-








fefft. Of CALIF.




'QUIETLY HE SLIPPED ALONG THE FOOTPLATE"



THE WHIP



BY

RICHARD PARKER



NOVELIZED FROM CECIL RALEIGH'S

GREAT DRURY LANE MELODRAMA

ILLUSTRATED WITH PICTURES FROM THE PLAY




-



NEW YORK
THE MACAULAY COMPANY

1913



Copyright, 1913, by
THE MACAULAY COMPANY



CONTENTS

CHAPTER PACE

I. AN UNUSUAL INTRODUCTION . . n

II. DIANA THE HUNTRESS . .... 27

III. No TRESPASSERS 36

IV. A MOUSE IN THE STABLE . . . . 57
V. THE ACCIDENT 70

VI. THE TIME AND THE PARSON . . 83

VII. THE TRIALS OF LOVE ..... 99

VIII. MARRIAGE MADE EASY .... 107

IX. A WOMAN SCORNED 125

X. AN UNEXPECTED GUEST . . . .142

XI. A POOR DESSERT 151

XII. BRANCASTER PLUNGES AGAIN . .157

XIII. CAPTAIN SARTORIS RECEIVES . . 193

XIV. COFFEE AND REPARTEE .... 209
XV. AT MADAME TUSSAUD'S . . . .218

XVI. LOCKED IN 242

XVII. MRS. BEAMISH RELENTS .... 253



CONTENTS



CHAPTER PAGE

XVIII. THE WRECK 266

XIX. AT NEWMARKET 274

XX. MRS. D'AQUILA'S INSPIRATION . . 284

XXI. THE TRUTH AT LAST 291

XXII. THE WHIP WINS ........ 301



ILLUSTRATIONS

"Quietly he slipped along the footplate" Frontispiece

FACING PAGE

" 'I thought perhaps you were asleep,' Lady Diana

said" 125

" "They're after me !' he panted" 193

"Harry put his arm about her. 'Come away,

lass!' he said" 216

"The Whip was led to safety" 272

"He joined their hands and held them both in his" 300



THE WHIP



THE WHIP

CHAPTER I

AN UNUSUAL INTRODUCTION

LADY DIANA set her mount at the stiffly
railed fence before her, and as the pack,
scenting the food waiting in the kennels,
swept through the barrier, Lady Diana
went over it.

In mid air she saw a picture, vividly and
anxiously. Under the royal oak sat an art-
ist sketching. So intent was he on his out-
line of the kennels and mushroomed stables
that he gave no attention to the hounds and
apparently was not conscious of the ap-
proach hurtling through the air of the
lady on her palfrey.

The original impetus of Lady Diana's
ii



THE WHIP



leap would have carried woman and horse
squarely into the person of the artist. But
the moment the girl had seen him a paralyz-
ing inhibition had stayed the force of horse
and rider almost in the air, and both lost
their carrying power, making a very bun-
gling finale of what had been originally a
very fine movement.

But as it was, the easel, made on the spot
by the artist out of twigs and dead branches,
had been shattered by a movement of one of
the hunter's sleek legs, and, worse an iron-
shod hoof had made an ugly mark upon the
artist's left wrist, which had laid at rest on
the moss while his right hand sketched.

In a trembling hurry Lady Diana swung
from the saddle. Her mount, disregarded,
was allowed to amble away, and browsed
without restraint.

"Oh, I'm so sorry pray tell me that
you're not hurt severely," she said, and
raised her eyes to the stranger's face.

12



AN UNUSUAL INTRODUCTION

She saw clean cut features, black eyes
with just a shade of amusement of whim
in them though there must have been pain
in that wrist and wavy black hair. The
man was in rough tweeds, and a cloth hat of
his suit's pattern lay a little way off.

But from beneath and beyond the
stranger's features, Lady Diana Sartoris got
her impression of the man. There were
sadness, wistfulness, a sense of the decay of
a fine nature, a look of tragedy.

His hurt did not appear to concern him.
Indeed, his whole being seemed devoted to
a scrutinizing, an appraising of her. From
her green little hat and her long green coat,
he turned to note that cold perfection of her
features, that fair chiseling which, with her
perfect health, and consequent confident
poise, made this young woman at times seem
almost too self-centered, too well schooled.

Without answering the man stood watch-
ing her, almost hungrily, yet with no repul-

13



THE WHIP



sive effect and very respectfully. The girl
repeated her inquiry.

"Not a bit," he returned carelessly. "It
was really very stupid of me not to have
noticed a pack in full cry for its kennel feed-
ing, and so inspiring an object as their mis-
tress."

He had covered his hurt with his hand-
kerchief and knotted and twisted it before
the girl could offer to minister to him.

"Such absorption can only be excused in
a very great artist, and such I assure you I
can scarcely hope to be."

His deprecating motion brought his open
sketch book nearer the girl and her eyes fell
upon its pages.

"Why, there's the kennels!" she ex-
claimed. "Oh! I mustn't think of your
sketches, but your hurt. I am profoundly
sorry. If I could do anything "

"A little thing that I can attend to easily,
after a bit," he said then in courteous anx-

14



iety to turn the current of her thoughts he
went on: "It really gives an idea of them,
doesn't it? See, here are some of the dogs."

The book was now in the girl's hand.

"I've noticed you about sketching for the
past four mornings," she confessed, turning
the pages. "And, ah, see, here's Dido!"

With a laugh the artist answered,

"I'm glad it's good enough to recog-
nize."

"Oh, yes but," she began and hesitated.

"Ah, there's a but," laughed the stranger,
merrily.

"I draw a little myself, you know," went
on the girl, "and dogs and horses are rather
my strong point."

There was no pride in her manner, only
the sublime self-confidence of a Sartoris of
Yorkshire.

"And you don't think they're mine," the
stranger said, amusement in his eye, but his
voice perfectly serious.

15



THE WHIP



"I don't say that," resumed the self-con-
fident girl, "but you see it isn't quite right
Look, just here the turn of the head."

Again there was a jovial light in the
stranger's smile.

"Would you put it right for me?" he
asked.

Lady Diana caught the bridle of her
horse and strode toward the stables.

"Come along, then," she said imper-
sonally, "and we'll see what we can do."

In the level bit of ground before the sta-
bles she was greeted kindly and affection-
ately by hurrying stablemen, her arrival
having been announced in a way by the
pack, which without requiring the guidance
of the whips, had rushed to the feeding
troughs.

"Take my horse, one of you, will you?
And someone bring out Dido," she ordered
in a tone that seemed very gracious to the
16



AN UNUSUAL INTRODUCTION

English about her, but would have jarred
upon even an American waiter.

A kennelman carried out the hound in his
arms and deposited her near Lady Diana.
With the sketch book on her knee, the girl
pointed her riding-crop at Dido.

"Can you manage to hold her?" she
asked.

The stranger, taking the hound, seated
himself on the corner of the stone bridge
that spanned a little stream and was a link
in the highway that ran by the stables.

"How's that?" he asked.

"Just a little more round," she returned.
"Sol That's capital!" Then she busied
herself with her pencil.

"Do you exhibit?" she asked, turning up-
on him for a second an oblique look, then
another upon the drawing.

"Very little," he said, with marked hesi-
tation.



THE WHIP;



"Whose whose name am I to look for?"
she inquired, a trace of personal kindliness
in her glance.

"I'd rather not give my name until
I've done more for my reputation," he
said a trifle awkwardly and in some con-
cern.

The personal touch faded from her man-
ner and she became again the self-centered,
impregnable personality characteristic of
the Englishwoman or man at will.

"Oh, as you like," she said. Then, hold-
ing out the sketch toward him, she went on :
"There, look, how's that?"

"By Jove, it's splendid. What magic
you can work with just a touch or two," he
exclaimed.

She made him a little bow, with some-
thing not hostile in it, and began quickly
to turn the pages of the book.

"Oh, you paint landscapes, too," she said;
"and they're very good, too. That's a deli-

18



AN UNUSUAL INTRODUCTION

cious little bit, and that's the spinny where
we killed last Fall and I got the brush.
And, oh! the old half fortress half tower
sort of place. It looks as though it might
be"

She was looking toward the seat of the
last Earl of Brancaster in the distance,
dimly visible up the glen.

"The Rievers," the stranger finished her
sentence. "It is. Haven't you ever been
there?"

"Nobody about here goes," returned Lady
Diana. "You see, it belongs to Lord Bran-
caster, and he hardly ever visits it, though
I've heard he's here now. Did he give you
permission to sketch it?"

The stranger nodded.

"I shouldn't have thought he would have
had much sympathy with artists or art," she
said.

"Why not?" he asked, his glance for the
moment falling.

19



THE WHIP



"His tastes are rather er notorious.
I'm afraid he's rather a byword about
here. Even the country people call him
'The Wicked Earl.' "

The thoughtless words of this young Eng-
lishwoman, who was as yet too immature to
exercise a fine judging sense, aroused the
artist and he went closer to the girl.

"And because a lot of yokels give a man
an odious nickname," he said tersely, "you
judge him unheard. What do you know
of him?"

"Nothing, thanks," said Lady Diana.

"Isn't it a bit rough on him to believe
on mere hearsay?" asked the artist.

"I don't, but my grandfather, who has a
kind word for everyone, says that his grand-
father was a soldier, his father a soldier and
a gentleman, but he hopes the son will never
darken his doors. And all the world says
he fritters away his life and is flinging
away his fortune."

20



AN UNUSUAL INTRODUCTION

The stranger smiled with a sense of pain
reflected in his face.

"What the world says is often malice,"
he said, going to the rescue of Lord Bran-
caster, "but I'm sorry to hear what Lord
[Beverley said. Nobody's all bad. Perhaps
it's because Lord Beverley doesn't know him
that he thinks so ill of him. Perhaps if you
knew him, you might find some little
good"

"I'm sure I hope so," said Lady Diana.
But the stranger continued:

"I'm sure he'd hope so. If he has played
havoc with his life, mayn't he repent his
folly? Perhaps in a sense he never had a
chance perhaps he never had a father or
mother in his youth to direct him and per-
haps he'll turn out all right now perhaps
no good woman "

A softly insidious voice thrust itself into
the intimacy that seemed about to begin be-
tween these two young people.

21



THE WHIP



"Ah, there you are," it said.

Both the girl and the man looked up and
saw in the road a motor car with a chauffeur
and a woman stepping out from it. For the
briefest space the two women measured
glances. Lady Diana saw a tall, rather
dark and foreign appearing young woman
of an uncertain age, whose black hair and
sharp features gave her, in the estimation
of anyone seeing her for the first time, a
certain aspect of power.

A moment later she was walking toward
them.

The artist was not pleased at this intru-
sion, and Diana saw that upon his face was
that tragic mask she had noted when they
saw each other for the first time, not so
many minutes ago.

"So this is where you come to sketch so
often," went on the woman from the motor
car. "Delightful place! Pray introduce



me."



22



AN UNUSUAL INTRODUCTION

The artist interposed himself between the
two women, almost as though he feared
harm to the younger of the two.

"I'm only a stranger here," he said, while
Lady Diana, quite at her ease ignored a sit-
uation that to one of another nationality
might have been a trifle embarrassing.

The intruder again swept Lady Diana
with her eyes.

"Indeed," she said, a subtle menace in her
tones. "Well, it's lucky I found you. If
we are going for our usual spin together,
Frangois wants to tell you something about
the car the brake doesn't act properly."

Lady Diana was not pleased with her
scrutiny of the other woman. She was too
young to have esteemed the other fast, but
there was a certain something about the tall
and dark intruder that repelled this young
Englishwoman. So she continued, though
the other talked at her, to seclude herself in
her British reserve.

23



THE WHIP



To the artist, the situation appeared
greatly to need relief. So to create a diver-
sion, he walked toward the road where the
car and chauffeur were waiting.

"We'll take it down to the village and
look for a blacksmith," he volunteered.

But the woman who had come for him in
the motor did not move. She was still in
hope that Lady Diana would recognize her
existence.

"Can't it be done here?" she asked, still
eyeing the young English noblewoman and
anxious for some offer of aid that would en-
able her to make Lady Diana's acquaint-
ance.

"Certainly not," returned the artist al-
most roughly, "and, besides, here are the
horses. The car may frighten them if we
leave it in this neighborhood."

The woman of the motor car looked down
L the road and saw the Beverley string being

24



AN UNUSUAL INTRODUCTION

led and ridden from the exercising on the
Downs.

"Dear things," she said for Lady Diana's
benefit. "How splendidly they look. Race
horses, too. I should have loved to see
them. I'd no notion that there were any so
near to us. To whom do they belong?' 7

"Lord Beverley," said the artist very
shortly indeed. "Come along."

"Lord Beverley! Really," exclaimed the
woman, and then, made bolder by this
revelation, she spoke directly to Lady
Diana: "I am so sorry we were in the way
pray tell Lord Beverley I'll take great
care it doesn't happen again."

But this gracious speech won from the
girl only a nod of the head and the singu-
larly British irritating "Thank you," with a
rising inflection at the end.

"Please make haste; they are here," the
artist cautioned her.

25



THE WHIP



"Yes, yes, dear," the dark woman re-
turned and then smiled at Lady Diana,
"Good morning."

Another little nod of the blond head and
a "Thank you" were her only rewards.
The artist bowed very impersonally and,
with the woman who had come for him,
rode down the road.

Musingly Lady Diana looked after them.

"I wonder who he is," she said, "and what
hold she has on him."



CHAPTER II

DIANA THE HUNTRESS

flTo Lady Diana Sartoris, "the cleanest
sportswoman in all England" the orators
of the hunt breakfasts of the Beverley
Hounds would have it so a fence was
merely an obstacle. And so after this morn-
ing with the Beverley pack, Lady "Di" on
her return to the kennels of her grandfather,
the Marquis of Beverley, found a defiant
pleasure in putting her hunter over every
such obstacle. It was to this delight of
hers, therefore, that a little later in the day
the unknown artist owed his damaged wrist.
Though it was one of those perfect York-
shire mornings, when ( rural England seems
made for the sportsman, Lady Diana's gal-
lop at the heels of the pack had not been al-
together of pleasure.

27



THE WHIP



To begin with, her grandfather, the pom-
pous and morally bombastic Marquis of
Beverley, had been in no good humor. Al-
though Falconhurst, the most secluded and
retired of the several country seats of the
family, was filled with the members of a
house party specially invited for Lady
Diana Sartoris' benefit, Beverley had care-
fully warned the guests away from the
Downs, and indeed had sent all of them otter
hunting with Captain Greville Sartoris,
Lady Diana's cousin.

"And otter hunting of all sports in the
world!" Lady Diana had breathed sar-
castically to her maid. "One might quite
as well hunt a mouse as an otter, you
know."

The reason Lady Diana knew, of course.
The Whip, the newest racer in the great
stables of Beverley, was being exercised on
the Downs that morning and although this
expected successor to the Newmarket win-

28



DIANA THE HUNTRESS

ners, Silver Cloud, Falconhurst, and Bever-
ley's Hope, had not had her trial and was
not likely to have for some time, the racing
Marquis was determined that no strange
eyes should learn anything of the speed pet
of his declining years.

Stable secrets had been leaking of late in
regard to some of the others in the string, but
none should escape respecting the Whip.

This prohibition had extended to Lady
Diana herself. It was not that through her
there was danger of the betting ring getting
advance information, but the young girl
who shared almost equally in Beverley's
affection for the Whip could not have been
with the promising filly and her stable
mates without being upon the back of the
speediest.

For the girl rode the Whip or any of the
other racers in the Beverley stables, as
Diana of old hunted, with divine inspira-
tion.

29



THE WHIP



"But the little filly's growing up or
rather my granddaughter Lady Diana, is
growing up," the Marquis had said more
than once, "and a filly isn't a colt, any more
rather a young woman of position and
rank isn't a girl, and she really can't ride
with the lads of my stable."

So Lady Diana, in the warm rebellion of
youth, at the first trammeling appearance of
that convention which ultimately molds us
all until we lose our little distinguishing
essence and become as so many peas, was ir-
ritated by this abrupt separation from the
things of her childhood.

Hence this finely strung, perhaps ordi-
narily too emotionless, young Englishwoman
took the highest and roughest of the ob-
stacles in her course as she followed in the
wake of the Beverley hounds. For the
hounds were not the features of a hunt, but
merely out on one of their exercising expe-
ditions, when to "keep their scent in" they



DIANA THE HUNTRESS

were permitted to range for trails under the
guidance of whips.

One of the obstacles which Lady Diana
took that morning was a stone fence that sep-
arated the lands of Falconhurst from the
property of the Earl of Brancaster, in the
midst of which stood the old stone tower,
Rievers. As her hunter cleared the fencing
cleanly and for a moment trespassed up-
on the lands of one regarded by the simple
folk of Yorkshire as "the wicked earl," the
girl looked toward the rocky heights accen-
tuated by the feudal tower, continuing to the
eye the long upward ascent of stone.

To her mood of the moment, while Rie-
vers appeared less barren and more the
abode of a human being, still there was the
sinister atmosphere of a place of ill omen,
which was not decreased by an open window
and the movement of a hanging at one of the
casements in the more modern part of the
structure.



THE WHIP



Even with the evidences of a home life
about the tower which there were not
the place would have worn its air of sullen
tragedy, its seeming appearance of a center
radiating unwholesome forces.

Then as she cantered along over a level
expanse skirting the eminence upon which
Rievers stood, and cast a glance upward oc-
casionally, Lady Diana thought of what her
grandfather had told her when she was a
child. It was shortly after the death in the
service of her father, and the death of his
comrade, Robert, the Earl of Brancaster, in
the same Indian engagement. Her father
and Brancaster, sire of the present Bran-
caster, had planned that the little Lady
Diana and the young Hubert should unite
the fortunes and lands of the two almost
princely houses. But her father had been
killed and his father, too.

The young Earl, without the repressing
authority of a parent, had begun life as a boy

32



with too much money and no sense of re-
sponsibility. His mother had died soon
after he was born. He had not been a bad-
natured lad, but as a little boy he had been
precocious. What, under proper training,
would have been clean, clear, pure sports-
manship as thorough as that of Lady Diana
herself, became in him a mere gaming spirit.
He gambled with nice observance of eti-
quette and of honor but still he defied
chance. As a result he at last found him-
self in the hands of the money lenders and
what part of Rievers that wasn't entailed
was mortgaged.

There were women, too, in this young
man's life, but of these Lady Diana knew
nothing. But though they came and went,
they never seemed to have penetrated to the
core of the young Hubert to infect him with
the virus of diseased imagination. The boy
seemed asleep and too good natured to put
his house in order. His friends predicted

33



THE WHIP



that if he ever really aroused himself he
would rid himself of his questionable ac-
quaintances effectively, cleanly and finally.

Dismissing the supposedly dissolute,
young belted Earl from her thoughts, Lady
Diana came to the last fence which sepa-
rated her from the glen in which the Falcon-
hurst kennels and stables stood. From the
level plateau immediately above the glen
there floated down to her the shouts of the
lads on the backs of the prides of the Mar-
quis's stables. Beverley had held the lads
in stern repression; but the stimulating air,
the vast tonic of nervous horseflesh beneath
their knees and the thrill of mad motion
could not keep the youngsters entirely silent.

The fine fire of it all kindled Lady Diana.
In the light of her girlhood experiences
only such sounds as came to her from the
Downs were needed to create vividly in her
imagination active pictures of the scenes
34



DIANA THE HUNTRESS

above her. She knew it. She loved it
She wanted to be again a part of it.

In revolt at the things that she dimly
sensed as governors of her whole after life,
she had put spur to her horse and sent him
straight at the high fence, beyond which
waited the unknown, in the figure of one
who was to play a larger part in Lady
Diana's future than either could have ever
dreamed.



35!



CHAPTER III

NO TRESPASSERS

WHEN the imperious person with the dark
hair had borne away her somewhat unen-
thusiastic swain, thoughts of the two were
out of the mind of Lady Diana before she
had formulated any conscious conclusions,
for her grandfather's whole string was now
led into the yard of the stables. Though
Tom Lambert, the trainer of the horses, was
nominally in charge of all of the animals,
he paid no attention to any save the nervous,
skittish creature covered with her horse
"clothing" and wearing over it all a horse
rug. Lambert in person was leading her.

"Ah! Tom, there you are why what
are you leading the Whip for?" Lady
Diana exclaimed as she walked up to the
trainer.

36



NO TRESPASSERS



"Motor car, my lady!" Lambert ex-
plained, taking off his hat. "She don't like



'em."



Lady Diana smiled.

"She's not alone, Tom," she said.

"No, my lady, but 'owever you 'ates 'em,
you can't eat 'em."

"And I shouldn't try," she laughed.

"She would, my lady!" the trainer con-
tinued, pointing to the horse. "The fitter
she gets, the worse she gets. I believe she'd
charge a battery an' eat the guns!"

"Nonsense!" Lady Diana replied, as she
went up to the mare and patted her nose.
"Nonsense ! It's only because you don't un-
derstand her. She's a dear isn't she,
Harry?" And she looked up appealingly
to the jockey who was stuck to the saddle as
if he had grown there.

"With you, my lady," the boy answered.
"And she's all right with me. But a

37



THE WHIP



stranger would have a better time trying to
tackle a tiger."

The girl stroked the Whip's neck lov-
ingly.

"They'll find her a lion when they tackle
her on the course the first time she runs >
won't they, Tom?" She turned to Lambert
once more.

"Yes, my lady." Then, to the jockey
"Walk her on, Harry mustn't get cold.
This way! The paddock gate's open take
the rein, now we're off the road."

As Harry Anson, the Whip's jockey,
turned his prancing mount toward the
stables, Lambert held up a warning hand in
a gesture of silence to his young mistress.

"What do you mean, Tom?" Lady Diana
exclaimed.

"The Markis won't let me try 'er yet,
my lady, but I believe the Whip's about the
best mare as ever looked through a
bridle."

38



NO TRESPASSERS



"I don't care what she looks through,
(Tom, as long as she is the best."

Lambert shook his head in a pessimistic
fashion.

"But the very best ship is no good with-
out the man at the wheel." The trainer
looked gloomily at the young girl.

"Surely Harry is good enough?" There
was a world of surprise in her eager eyes.

"When he's himself," was Lambert's
laconic answer.

"Who else is he?" Lady Diana asked, with
a slight frown on her pretty, puzzled face.

"Don't know, my lady but 'e's a 'ang-
dog, mournful sort o' beggar at times, with
no spirits and no lip not a bit like our
Harry."

Lady Di laughed blithely. There was a
world of relief in her musical voice as she


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