The Rider in Khaki. Nat Gould

is not likely to come into her life again," said Harry.

      Alan Chesney generally had friends staying with him at Trent Park; it was a hospitable house, where everything was done well. His father was a successful man, head of a great brewery firm, a wonderful manager, a staunch sportsman, the owner of a famous stud, and a conspicuous figure on the turf; his death was a blow to racing, his colors were popular, and his outlay lavish.

      Alan Chesney inherited his love for horses and racing, but the immense business of William Chesney & Company, Limited, did not appeal to him, although the bulk of his wealth came from that source. It was a disappointment to his father when Alan elected to go into the army, but as he was bent on it he gave way on condition he resign his commission when he died and become the head of the firm. This was the real reason for Alan's leaving the army; there were others also weighed with him. He had the makings of a good soldier in him but "the piping times of peace," did not bring out his best qualities; there was more pleasure than work and the calls of duty were not very arduous for a rich man.

      The manager of William Chesney & Company was Duncan Fraser, a Scotsman, whose whole life had been spent in England, the bulk of it with Chesney. An upright, honorable, keen man of business, Duncan Fraser was a tower of strength in the firm. Force of character was stamped on him; he was unyielding when he felt he was in the right, and many tussles William Chesney had with him about fresh moves connected with new departments in the company's procedure. The two men were, however, friends, and had respect for the abilities they both possessed.

      It was Duncan Fraser's opposition to Alan Chesney going into the army induced William Chesney to protest against it and give way only upon the stipulation stated.

      "He is your only son, and his place is at the head of the firm when you think fit to retire," said Duncan. "He has no right to neglect his responsibilities, and he ought to be trained for the position; if he goes into a crack cavalry regiment he'll never settle down to the work here."

      William Chesney agreed with Duncan Fraser, but made excuses for Alan.

      "I fancy he considers you will be capable of looking after things when

       I am gone," he said.

      "That's not the point. I'm capable now, but you are the head, and he ought to take your place."

      Alan Chesney and Duncan Fraser did not agree well, the former knew of Fraser's opposition to his joining the army and resented it as an impertinence.

      "After all he's a servant of the company," he said to his father.

      "And the best servant a company ever had. He's a big shareholder too; don't forget that important fact, Alan," was the answer.

      Duncan Fraser was a careful man; he had a large salary, and, being a bachelor, saved most of it and bought shares in the brewery. When William Chesney died he held the second interest to Alan, which gave him considerable power.

      To do Fraser justice he always desired, was anxious, that Alan Chesney should be the active head of the firm; but his disinclination for the work threw more and more responsibility on the manager, and although Alan was nominally the head, Duncan Fraser was the man everybody looked to.

      Alan recognized this and resented it, although he knew it was his fault.

      Duncan Fraser had the tact to handle the situation delicately; he treated Alan with almost the same deference as his father, but did not consult him to the same extent, or take so much notice of his suggestions.

      Fraser was a good-looking man, verging on fifty, tall, well-built, an athlete in his younger days, a good shot and an enthusiastic angler. He was a frequent visitor at Trent Park, and to all outward appearances he and Alan were the best of friends; there was a rift in the lute which they concealed.

      Alan was popular in the county, his liberality was great, appeals to him always met with a response. His fine commanding presence made him noticeable, his military training had done him good, he was strong, powerful, a good boxer, and no man could ride better. Despite his height and strong frame, he could ride a reasonable weight on the flat, and over fences, and he often mounted his horses and those of his friends. Exercise kept his weight down; he walked miles at a stretch, through the glorious forest, or over his estates.

      He had known Evelyn Berkeley since she was in her teens, and when he came home from Harrow, and she was at "The Forest" for her holidays, they were often together; their love for the country was strong and they explored every nook and corner of Sherwood Forest.

      When Evelyn Berkeley was five and twenty it was reported, with some semblance of authority, that William Chesney, the wealthy brewer, was anxious to make her his wife, that he would willingly have done so but she refused him. There was truth in this, but the whole facts were not known. Evelyn Berkeley liked William Chesney but she was very fond of Alan, and it seemed to her ridiculous that she should wed the father when she admired the son, although Marcus Berkeley strongly urged her to accept the brewer's offer.

      "You'll be safe with him, Eve," said her father. "He's a good sort; he idolizes you. Oh yes, I know you prefer Alan, that's perhaps natural, but he's not sown his wild oats yet and you'll have a long time to wait before you can get him to the post. You're young, marry William Chesney, and before the bloom's off your cheeks you'll be the richest and handsomest widow in the land."

      Evelyn Berkeley was very sorry when William Chesney died. He proved a better guide than her father, and her refusal of his offer made no difference in his manner toward her.

      Alan Chesney knew of his father's partiality for Evelyn Berkeley but did not know he proposed to her, and the rumors of it had not reached him. He admired Evelyn, but was not at all certain he loved her, and so far had not considered it conducive to his happiness that he should take a wife; he was fond of his freedom, of the bachelor life he was leading, he did many things that would be impossible if he married.

      He had a habit of doing unexpected things, and this was the reason

       Vincent Newport said, "Does anybody know what he will do?" in answer to

       Harry Morby's question.

      Alan Chesney came into the billiard room.

      "Did you beat him, Harry?" he asked.

      "Just pipped him on the post," was the answer.

      "I'm just going to have a look at the horses; will you come?" he said.

      "Only too pleased," said Vincent, and Harry acquiesced eagerly.

      "Think we'll drive; horses are more enjoyable than motors—that's if you haven't to go any distance."

      A pair of beautiful bays were brought round, the shooting wagon was spic and span, almost new, the groom smart and dapper, everything in perfect style.

      Alan handled the reins and they drove along the well-kept road in the direction of Trent Stud.

      Their way skirted past "The Forest" and as they passed the gates Evelyn Berkeley came out in her motor. Alan pulled up, she stopped the car, and greetings were exchanged.

      "We're going to see the horses. Will you come?" asked Alan.

      She thanked him, said she had an appointment in Nottingham, and from there had to go to Newark.

      "You'll be in town for the Derby, I suppose?" said Alan.

      "Yes. Are you running anything at the meeting?"

      "Three or four. Might pick up a race or two."

      "You'll not forget to put me on," she said, smiling.

      "Oh no, I'll not forget. I'll call and see you and give you all particulars; shall you have a house full?" said Alan.

      "Half a dozen single friends and two married couples; you can stay with me if you like, it will be quite proper," she said, laughing.

      Alan did not give a direct answer; he merely repeated that he would call.

      "By Jove, she is handsome!" said Harry enthusiastically.