his morning, too, Raffle. There is somebody in the
stable who is disclosing secrets, and the sooner you know it the
better."

"I know it already," Raffle grinned. "It is all part of the scheme. They
have got hold of one of the boys, and I am watching him carefully. I let
him take away just as much information as I like. Don't you worry about
me, Mr. Harry. I haven't been at this game for fifty years without
learning a thing or two. I have always made it a rule to go straight
myself, but that is no reason why I should keep my eyes closed to the
doings of other people."

"Quite right," Fielden said approvingly. "But what do you know about
Mr. Copley? He is a stranger in these parts."

"That may be, sir, but he is no stranger to me. I never forget a face,
and I've been on every racecourse in the country during the last five
and twenty years. The first time I saw Mr. Copley, he was being shown
round the stables by Sir George. I didn't like him, and I didn't like
his manner, and thinks I to myself, 'I wonder where I've seen _you_
before?' Suddenly there flashes into my mind a little incident that
happened at Lincoln. I can see it as plain as I can see this book in my
hand. And then I knew that Mr. Copley, the African millionaire, was one
and the same with the welsher that I had seen half killed at Lincoln a
good many years ago. Well, it wasn't for me to say anything about it,
because I can find you a score of men to-day, rich and prosperous men,
who started life amongst the scum of the racecourse. I have been making
a few inquiries amongst my old pals, and it is just as I expected. Mr.
Copley may be a rich man now, but he is just as big a scamp as ever he
was, and Sir George ought to know it. I tell you, Mr. Harry, it fairly
makes my blood boil to see that blackguard swaggering about here and
hanging around Miss May as if she belonged to him. It fair spoils my
enjoyment and my food, it does. But you see how difficult it is for a
man in my position to interfere. But your case is different."

Fielden shook his head sadly. His case was very different indeed. More
and more bitterly did he blame himself for the heedless, senseless folly
which had brought him to his present pitch. How changed things might
have been if he had only shown ordinary prudence! What would he gain if
he went to Sir George with these vague stories about Copley? He could
not doubt but that Sir George was deeply in Copley's debt, and that
Copley had brou