le sipping slowly,
and muttering every time he raised his trembling hand something about
"good glass of wine."

Suddenly Sir Hilton made a quick turn and walked sharply towards the
door, making the trainer set down his glass hurriedly, glance at the
bar-window to see if he was observed, and then follow his guest to the
door; but, before he reached it, the baronet turned round and walked
back, close by the landlord, without appearing to notice him.

"Can't stand it no longer," muttered the man to himself. "Hah! Wonder
whether it will come off?"

He glanced at his victim sharply, saw that he was talking softly to
himself in the intervals of passing his tongue impatiently over his lips
and making a peculiar sound as if tasting.

"Tlat, tlat, tlat! Too dry. Burns and smarts," he said impatiently,
and then clapped his hand quickly to his head.

"Why not try another glass, Sir Hilton?" said the trainer; but no heed
was taken of his words.

"It's a-working," muttered the man. "Hope I didn't give him too much."

He glanced at the bright blue and scarlet figure again, and then,
drawing a deep breath he once more moved towards the door of his office,
where he stopped inside watching.

"Why, it's like giving him the jumps," he muttered. "Well, if it do go
wrong, I ain't done nothing. It's the drink. He must ha' been having
it heavy before he came here; and if that won't do, I'm blest if I'm
going to stand the racket all alone."

He stood watching his victim for quite ten minutes, during which time
the drug he had administered, one of whose properties as a trainer and
veterinary surgeon he was well aware, was working with wonderful
rapidity; and this was accelerated suddenly by Sir Hilton's action, for
to the trainer's great delight, the poor fellow gave a lurch which
brought him near the little table, where he recovered himself, saw the
bottle and glass, and seized the former with his left hand.

"Dry--thirsty!" he said hurriedly; and making an effort he poured out
another glass of wine, drained it, and was in the act of setting down
the glass when Granton came hurrying in, and Simpkins drew back out of
sight.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

HOW THE BEES SWARMED.

"Ah, Hilt, old chap, there you are! Lady T. says you must come at once,
and--Hang it, man, don't do that!"

Sir Hilton turned on hearing the familiar voice and stared at the
speaker, who snatched the bottle from his hand.

"What are you doing?" he sa