"
"Why, Bev,--deuce take me, it's a plan of our stables! And they've
got it right, too! Here's 'Moonraker's' stall marked out as pat as
you please, and 'The Terror's,' but they've got his name wrong--"
"My horse had no name, Dick."
"But there's something written here."
"Yes, look at it carefully, Dick."
"Well, here's an H, and an E, and--looks like 'Hera,' Bev!"
"Yes, but it isn't. Look at that last letter again, Dick!"
"Why, I believe--by God, Bev,--it's an E!"
"Yes,--an E, Dick."
"'Here'!" said the Viscount, staring at the paper; "why, then--why,
Bev,--it was--your horse they were after!"
"My horse,--yes, Dick."
"But he's a rank outsider--he isn't even in the betting! In heaven's
name, why should any one--"
"Look on the other side of the paper, Dick."
Obediently, the Viscount turned the crumpled paper over, and
thereafter sat staring wide-eyed at a name scrawled thereon, and
from it to Barnabas and back again; for the name he saw was this:
RONALD BARRYMAINE ESQUIRE.
"And Dick," said Barnabas, "it is in Chichester's handwriting."
CHAPTER L
IN WHICH RONALD BARRYMAINE SPEAKS HIS MIND
The whiskers of Mr.
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