daughter Joses's message.

The girl said nothing, but visited the cottage next morning.

She stood in the door, firm and fresh, the colour in her hair, the bloom
on her cheeks, and looked at that mass of decaying man upon the bed.

"Are you bad?" she asked, anxious as a child.

"I suppose I'm not very good," he answered.

She snatched her eyes away.

"Well, I congratulate you," he said at last, quietly.

She sought for irony in his voice and eyes, and detected none.

"What on?"

"Your victory."

Her face softened.

"Thank you."

"You deserved to win," continued the other, with genuine admiration.
"You rode a great race. I couldn't have believed a girl could have got
the course if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes." His gaze met hers
quite honestly. "You see I didn't count on the double fake. I knew you
were going to ride as Albert, but I'd quite forgotten the
corollary--that Albert might dress as you. That's where you beat me."

The girl's chest was rising and falling.

"Mr. Joses," she said, "I didn't ride the horse."

His eyes sought hers, dissatisfied, and then wandered to the window.

"Well, well," he said. "We won't argue about it. Anyway, you won."

Boy looked out of the window.

"I _did_ try and deceive you into thinking I was going to ride," she
said with a quake in her voice. "That was partly deviltry and partly to
put you off. I thought if you believed you could get back on us _after_
the race you'd not try it on before. Besides, I could never ride the
course. Three miles was my limit over fences at racing speed when I was
at my best, and that's some years since."

He was quite unconvinced.

"I give you best, Miss Woodburn," he said. "But Albert could never have
ridden that race. Never! It was a good win. And you deserved it. But it
wasn't that I wanted to see you about." He looked round the little room.
"It's not much of a place perhaps, you may think. But there's the
window, and the sight of grass, and cows grazing and folks passing on
the path. And in this house there's Mrs. Boam, and Jenny, and the
pussy-cat. I should miss it." He lifted those suffering eyes of his. "I
don't want to pass what little time I've left in the cage."

"But they won't hurt you now," cried Boy. "They couldn't."

The other laughed his dreadful laughter.

"Couldn't they?" he said. "You don't know 'em. It's the cat-and-mouse
business all the time. I'm the mouse. I've been there."

"But you've done nothi