An official account of Alan's mission to Brussels had been
made public, and he was the hero of the hour; much was given out but it
was guessed more remained to be disclosed.

Apart from this, Bandmaster was regarded as a great horse. If half as
good over a steeplechase course as on the flat he must possess a great
chance. His speed was undeniable. If he proved a safe jumper nothing
would be able to live with him on the flat at the finish. Fred Skane's
opinion was known. The trainer had little fear of defeat. He said
confidently that Bandmaster would carry the brown and blue to victory.

Eve Berkeley never looked better. Her cheeks glowed with health. She
was happy--Alan was safe, what else mattered? She was radiant. Baron
Childs did not conceal his admiration. She wore costly furs; they
became her well. She walked proudly because of her hero, the man of
the hour, the bravest of the brave.

There was only one thing lacking. If Alan could have ridden Bandmaster
how glorious it would have been.

The party from The Forest caught her enthusiasm and exuberance of
spirits. Their merry laughter rang clear and joyous.

Captain Morby was there, paying a flying visit from the front to see
Bandmaster win. He had not met Alan since his return from his
adventure.

It was half an hour before the race and a bustling scene took place as
the twenty-seven horses were put to rights.

Riders hurried across the enclosure, stopping to speak to friends,
colors just showing through the half-open coats, for the air was
nipping. Most of them were gentlemen jockeys, five or six officers who
had won their spurs over stiff courses and had capped this by brave
actions at the front. Everybody recognized that racing, sport
generally, had much to do with the wonderful heroism displayed in the
war.

Will Kerridge was anxious. He hoped Bandmaster would win. He wanted
the ride badly, but would have stood down gladly to let Alan Chesney
have the mount. Fred Skane said nothing to him about Alan's intention
to arrive home in time to have the ride on his horse. He was glad he
had not mentioned it now; he thought Alan was detained, that he had not
sufficiently recovered from his wounds to bear the journey.

A quarter of an hour more it was hopeless to expect him and yet even
now Fred did not quite give up hope.

He looked anxiously about, raised his glasses and fixed them on the
road from Trent Park house. Nobody was coming. A