So 'e laughs,
easy like, and in we pops. And the first thing we see was your 'ead
groom, Mr. Martin, wiv blood on 'is mug and one peeper in mourning
a-wrastling wiv two coves, and our 'ead groom, Standish, wiv another
of 'em. Jest as we run up, down goes Mr. Martin, but--afore they
could maul 'im wiv their trotters, there's m'lud wiv 'is fists an'
me wiv a pitchfork as 'appened to lie 'andy. And very lively it were,
sir, for a minute or two. Then off goes a barker and off go the coves,
and there's m'lud 'olding onto 'is harm and swearing 'eavens 'ard.
And that's all, sir."
"And these men were--trying to get at the horses?"
"Ah! Meant to nobble 'Moonraker,' they did,--'im bein' one o' the
favorites, d' ye see, sir, and it looked to me as if they meant to
do for your 'oss, 'The Terror', as well."
"And is the Viscount much hurt?"
"Why no, sir. And it were only 'is whip-arm. 'Urts a bit o' course,
but 'e managed to write you a letter, 'e did; an' 'ere it is."
So Barnabas took the letter, and holding it in the moonlight where
Cleone could see it, they, together, made out these words:
MY DEAR BEV,--There is durty work afoot.
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