week.

Of old she had always retired to her room in the loft after supper on
Sunday to wrestle with her labours; but as her mother grew into years,
the girl had adopted the habit of working in the parlour.

On this Sunday she worked on long after her father and mother had gone
to bed, reading and making notes. Once the door opened, and she was
dimly aware of Mr. Silver standing in it. He departed quietly as he had
come without a word, but her subconsciousness noted vaguely and with
surprise that he was wearing a greatcoat and muffler as if he was going
out.

It was eleven o'clock when she closed her book and crossed the yard.

Under the ladder to the loft a door led to a woodshed at the end of the
stable.

As she went up the ladder she heard somebody moving in the shed.

"Who's that?" she asked sharply.

There was no answer.

She descended and tried the door.

It was locked.

"That's all right, Boy," called a quiet voice. "It's only me."

"Mr. Silver," she cried. "What on earth are you up to?"

"After a rat."

"A queer time to choose."

"Yes," he said. "He's a big 'un. I'm sitting for him."

"Good-night then," she called, and ran up the ladder, heralded by the
swift and ghostly Maudie.

The trap-door over Four-Pound-the-Second's box was open as always. She
peeped down on to the back of the horse and Monkey Brand, busy by the
light of his lantern, arranging a pile of horse-blankets in the corner
on which to sleep.

"Where's Billy Bluff?" she asked.

"Just gone outside a minute, Miss."

Four-Pound-the-Second moved restlessly.

"Give him some water," she directed, "and settle him down as soon as you
can."

"Very good, Miss," the little jockey answered.

* * * * *

It was an hour later that the stable-door clicked and Joses entered.

He was wearing rope-soled shoes, and he moved softly behind the long
line of horses.

In his slouch hat and loose cloak he looked like a stage conspirator.

Monkey Brand was nodding on an upturned bucket.

As the fat man entered the loose-box, the great horse turned a shining
eye on him and whinnied.

Monkey blinked, stirred, and grunted:

"'Ello!"

He smelt strongly of whiskey.

The tout, unheeding him, produced a twitch.

But Monkey rose with heavy eyes and jerked it irritably out of the
other's hand.

"None o' that," he said.

He nodded to the open trap-door overhead.

"She sleeps up there, don't she?" whispere