it. You have no occasion to love Copley----"

"Indeed, I haven't," Fielden said bitterly. "I have every reason for
disliking the man, every reason for exposing him before Miss--well,
before things have gone too far. If I can help you, I will do so
cheerfully."

"That's right," Phillips said approvingly. "Now where can I see you for
half an hour in the course of the afternoon? We mustn't stay talking
here. There is old Raffle."

Fielden thought it over for a moment or two. He was glad enough to meet
this old South African comrade of his again. In several respects
Phillips was anything but a desirable acquaintance. His upbringing had
been none too strict, but, at the same time, he had a rough code of
honour, and it was one of his proudest boasts that he never forgot a
friend or a favour. Probably he had had his own reasons for leaving
England suddenly, and no doubt those reasons had something to do with
the turf. At any rate, he had a profound and intricate knowledge of
racing matters, and there was no swindle or trick with which he was not
familiar.

"You had better meet me at Heron's Dyke," Fielden said. "You can be
outside in the road about a quarter to five. There is nobody on the
premises. I have the key in my pocket, and I daresay I shall manage to
get a light from somewhere."

Phillips disappeared amongst the high gorse. As Fielden stepped into the
open he saw Raffle looking about for him. There was a shrewd smile on
the old man's face, and he did not appear in the least disconcerted by
the result of the trial.

"Well?" Fielden asked. "What about your Derby winner now?"

Raffle's eye contracted in a wink.

"It's all right, sir," he said. "The trial was a great success. Did you
happen to see anybody in the gorse?"

"Yes," Fielden replied. "I saw Mr. Copley."

"And a friend," Raffle chuckled. "I know all about it. And between you
and me, sir, I got this up for the benefit of Mr. Copley, who is about
the greatest rascal unhanged, and that's saying a good deal. It was high
time you came back."

CHAPTER VIII

ROGUES IN COUNCIL

Raffle strode sturdily along, refusing to say another word. What
deep-laid schemes the old man had in his mind Fielden could only faintly
guess. At any rate it was good to know that Raffle was satisfied, and
that some careful plan was afoot with a view to Copley's discomfiture.

"Perhaps you are wise to keep your own counsel," Fielden said. "But I've
learnt something t