A horseman, fantastically dressed in green and splendidly mounted, was waiting at the crossroads, and as he spurred towards us I recognised the dark, handsome face and bold black eyes of Mendoza.
"I am waiting here to give the office, Sir Charles," said he. "It's down the Grinstead road, half a mile to the left."
"Very good," said my uncle, reining his mares round into the cross- road.
"You haven't got your man there," remarked Mendoza, with something of suspicion in his manner.
"What the devil is that to you?" cried Belcher, furiously.
"It's a good deal to all of us, for there are some funny stories about."
"You keep them to yourself, then, or you may wish you had never heard them."
"All right, Jem! Your breakfast don't seem to have agreed with you this morning."
"Have the others arrived?" asked my uncle, carelessly.
"Not yet, Sir Charles. But Tom Oliver is there with the ropes and stakes. Jackson drove by just now, and most of the ring-keepers are up."
"We have still an hour," remarked my uncle, as he drove on. "It is possible that the others may be late, since they have to come from Reigate."
"You take it like a man, Tregellis," said Craven. "We must keep a bold face and brazen it out until the last moment."
"Of course, sir," cried Belcher. "I'll never believe the betting would rise like that if somebody didn't know something. We'll hold on by our teeth and nails, Sir Charles, and see what comes of it."
We could hear a sound like the waves upon the beach, long before we came in sight of that mighty multitude, and then at last, on a sudden dip of the road, we saw it lying before us, a whirlpool of humanity with an open vortex in the centre. All round, the thousands of carriages and horses were dotted over the moor, and the slopes were gay with tents and booths. A spot had been chosen for the ring, where a great basin had been hollowed out in the ground, so that all round that natural amphitheatre a crowd of thirty thousand people could see very well what was going on in the centre. As we drove up a buzz of greeting came from the people upon the fringe which was nearest to us, spreading and spreading, until the whole multitude had joined in the acclamation. Then an instant later a second shout broke forth, beginning from the other side of the arena, and the faces which had been turned towards us whisked round, so that in a twinkling the whole foreground changed from white to dark.
"It's they. They are in time," said my uncle and Craven together.
Standing up on our curricle, we could see the cavalcade approaching over the Downs. In front came a huge yellow barouche, in which sat Sir Lothian Hume, Crab Wilson, and Captain Barclay, his trainer. The postillions were flying canary-yellow ribands from their caps, those being the colours under which Wilson was to fight. Behind the carriage there rode a hundred or more noblemen and gentlemen of the west country, and then a line of gigs, tilburies, and carriages wound away down the Grinstead road as far as our eyes could follow it. The big barouche came lumbering over the sward in our direction until Sir Lothian Hume caught sight of us, when he shouted to his postillions to pull up.
"Good morning, Sir Charles," said he, springing out of the carriage. "I thought I knew your scarlet curricle. We have an excellent morning for the battle."
My uncle bowed coldly, and made no answer.
"I suppose that since we are all here we may begin at once," said Sir Lothian, taking no notice of the other's manner.
"We begin at ten o'clock. Not an instant before."
"Very good, if you prefer it. By the way, Sir Charles, where is your man?"
"I would ask YOU that question, Sir Lothian," answered my uncle. "Where is my man?"
A look of astonishment passed over Sir Lothian's features, which, if it were not real, was most admirably affected.
"What do you mean by asking me such a question?"
"Because I wish to know."
"But how can I tell, and what business is it of mine?"
"I have reason to believe that you have made it your business."
"If you would kindly put the matter a little more clearly there would be some possibility of my understanding you."
They were both very white and cold, formal and unimpassioned in their bearing, but exchanging glances which crossed like rapier blades.