He was smiling as he passed out--the smile of the gambler who knows that
he holds a winning card.




PART II




CHAPTER I

JAKE BOLTON


It was a week after the sinking of _The Night Moth_ that Saltash, very
immaculately dressed, with field-glasses slung over his shoulder, made
his first appearance since the disaster at a meeting on the Graydown
Race-course, a few miles from his ancient castle of Burchester. He was
looking very well pleased with himself and certainly none the worse for
the adventure as he sauntered among his friends, of whom a good many were
present. His ugly face and wiry figure were well-known at Graydown, and
he seemed sure of his welcome wherever he went.

There had been a time years before when he had kept his own stud, and
racing had been his hobby. It had not held him for long. He was not the
man to pursue any one object for any length of time. With characteristic
volatility he had thrown up this amusement to follow others, but he had
never wholly abandoned his interest in the stud which had once been his.