Chapter XVI: Gay Disgraces Herself

There was no time to warm up the horse; she had to trot down fast to her mark, overshot it some forty yards, and swung her horse round in a hurry, spurting to get up to her mark, as she saw "Uncle's" back with upraised pistol.

It was fortunate she did so, as at that moment the pistol went off, and she was at top speed on to her mark as the pistol was fired, Mackrell's horse being at a standstill at the same mark (they were both scratch mark horses, you may remember), she having the outside position.

Mackrell's horse was into his stride in a moment, however; Gay and Mac raced side by side after the leaders. There were, of course, only four horses in this final, one of the leaders being the old ex-American hobbled pacer, Birmingham Joe, who had 200 yards' start of Gay and Mac, the fourth horse being the trotter Our Tom, with 150 yards' start.

Gay's and Mackrell's horses trotted side by side like a pair, rapidly overtaking the two leaders, but Gay could see out of the corner of her eye that Mackrell was holding his horse, and could at any time draw clear of her if he liked.

At the turn he pulled slightly back, and let her take the inside, and there came an ominous jeer from the spectators when they saw him giving way, instead of keeping the advantage he had gained. The moment, however, they were round the turn, he drew up level again on the outside, when suddenly his horse made a most disastrous break (a horse noted for never breaking), and every time Mac tried to catch him, he went off into a worse break, till finally he cantered in a long way last, the horse refusing to trot.

Gay, of course, saw nothing of this, she only knew that Mackrell's horse had suddenly fallen back, and that she was gaining hand over hand on the trotter Our Tom in front. She passed him as she went round the track the second time, and calling on her horse, she saw him stretch out his neck still further, and lower himself till he seemed inches lower than his proper height, whilst he began to sway his head slightly from side to side, as he reached his utmost in each stroke.

She swept round the last turn but one at such speed that she found she must keep her eyes fixed on her horse's ears, as the least glance to the side made her feel giddy, and as if she would lose her balance, and now she got up with the pacer in the hack stretch, who was wobbling along in the regular third-rate pacer style, instead of moving almost as upright as a trotter, as Hettie C. the pacer did earlier in the day.

A really perfect-gaited pacer has very little roll in its gait, and if seen from the side could not be distinguished from a trotter except by an expert, but poor old Birmingham Joe was labouring along like a channel boat in a south-wester, and his hobbles were singing from the strain like an æolian harp. It was this strain, and the fact that poor old Birmingham Joe's master had _everything_ old (including the horse), which won Gay the race.

The sulky was an old heavy metal one, made in England years ago, the hobbles had been patched and mended till little of the original hobbles remained, and as the two horses came neck and neck (Gay on the outside) round the last turn, the æolian sound of the hobbles changed to a sudden rending crash, and old Birmingham Joe turned a complete somersault, pitching his driver over his head, and landing on top of him, the hobbles having broken.

Gay jogged in a winner in 3.35, a second faster than her horse had ever trotted before, and whilst the driver of Birmingham Joe was carried in on a stretcher with a broken leg, Mackrell finished on a canter last of all, amidst the yells of his backers, that alternated with loud cheers for Gay Lawless.

In these cheers neither Lossie nor the Professor joined. They had not understood what Rensslaer meant when he had suddenly appeared beside them, and hurried Gay away. They had hardly understood what it meant when after a considerable delay (for they were at some distance from the stables) they had seen a woman's shape in a Faber, driving rapidly towards the track, and when in the first round Gay had swept by close to them, looking extraordinarily pretty and determined, her little feet planted firmly on the rail before her, eyes wide with excitement and courage, the Professor had all but fallen down in a fit, while Lossie rejoiced--even Carlton Mackrell's affection could hardly survive that.

On all sides kodaks had flashed; indeed in the event, nearly every illustrated paper made a scandalous feature of a sight common enough in Vienna. Min Toplady alone of the women clapped her hands, and cheered at the top of her voice; but the excitement now over, Gay herself felt shaky, and more than half inclined to burst into tears.

Even the presentation to her of the Gold Vase was by no means the ecstacy she had expected. It was by a desperate effort that she held her head up, spoke her thanks, smiled, and marched away with Rensslaer, who tucked the Vase under his arm as if used to such ridiculous impedimenta, and took her straight to her brother, followed by the cheers of the lookers-on, in which a nice ear might detect a certain note of familiarity. Possibly she detected it, but was quite unaware that Carlton was about having a very bad quarter of an hour, called as he had been before the Stewards, for an explanation of his extraordinary driving.

He declared that his horse lost a toe weight at the first turn, which caused him to break, and he could not, or would not settle afterwards, and when the horse was examined, it was seen that the near toe weight was missing.

While the discussion was still going on, one of the distance judges brought in the toe weight, and also the screw which held it, but instead of the screw being broken, or the threads worn, it was seen that the screw had only a head, and very short shank, and that the latter showed marks of its having quite recently had the end of the screw shank filed off, so that there was only a head, and a little bit of shank.

The blacksmith who was employed at the trotting track said that Mackrell borrowed a file of him before the final heat, and being curious as to what he wanted it for, he followed him at a distance, and saw him filing something behind a tree, after which he went to screw on his horse's toe weights.

The blacksmith went behind the tree and picked up the half of a screw (the point end), which he produced, and it corresponded to the screw which Mac's horse had lost with his toe weight.

Result--expelled from ever driving in the Clubhouse, and outlawed forever.

Mackrell bowed, and withdrew with perfect _sang-froid_. He had pulled off what he intended, and if Gay had been made happy by getting what she wanted, he did not in the least grudge the price he had paid. But when he joined, or rather intercepted, her on the way to the gates, he found a pale, almost tearful Gay, and one glance at the Professor's and Lossie's faces convinced him that they had been baiting her cruelly, in spite of Rensslaer, who cool and imperturbable as ever, walked beside her.

"Hearty congratulations, Gay!" Mackrell cried, taking her hand. "It was the best done, pluckiest thing I ever saw in my life, and the Gold Vase is yours."

Gay controlled her voice to thank him, but Rensslaer shot a quick glance at the other's face--he had, of course, seen Mackrell's game from the first, and was also aware of that summons to the Stewards' room, to which there could only be one issue.

"I am astonished," said the Professor in quavery tones, "astonished and shocked at your congratulating my sister on the disgraceful, unwomanly exhibition she has just made of herself, and for which I am to blame, in not having put my foot down on this degrading sport from the first."

"Oh! put it down," said Carlton, who looked very handsome and determined, "and keep it there if you like. _I'm_ going to take Gay home, and the quieter she is kept the better"--he turned on Lossie Holden a glance beneath which she quailed--"so you can travel back as you came, with the Professor."

He put Gay as he spoke into a waiting carriage, seated himself beside her, and drove off, Rensslaer having handed to Gay her coveted trophy.

"I believe," said the Professor, "that the indecency on wheels in which my unfortunate sister drove was your property, Mr. Rensslaer, and as she could not possibly have used it without your consent, I imagine it was at your suggestion she did so."

"You're right there," said Rensslaer encouragingly, "and I'm proud to know my Faber's been of use to the nicest, pluckiest girl, bar none, I've seen in England."

"Anyway," cried the Professor, trembling with rage, "I shall make it my business to see that she has no opportunity of disgracing herself and me again," and seizing Lossie's arm, he hurried her away.