A Matter of Sentiment

by H.H. Munro (SAKI)

　　

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It was the eve of the great race, and scarcely a member of Lady Susan's house-party had as yet a single bet on. It was one of those unsatisfactory years whenone horse held a commanding market position, not by reason of any general beliefin its crushing superiority, but because it was extremely difficult to pitch onany other candidate to whom to pin ones faith. Peradventure II was thefavourite, not in the sense of being a popular fancy, but by virtue of a lack ofconfidence in any one of his rather undistinguished rivals. The brains of club-land were much exercised in seeking out possible merit where none was veryobvious to the naked intelligence, and the house-party at Lady Susan's waspossessed by the same uncertainty and irresolution that infected wider circles."It is just the time for bringing off a good coup," said Bertie van Tahn."Undoubtedly. But with what?" demanded Clovis for the twentieth time.The women of the party were just as keenly interested in the matter, and just ashelplessly perplexed; even the mother of Clovis, who usually got good racinginformation from her dressmaker, confessed herself fancy free on this occasion.Colonel Drake, who was professor of military history at a minor crammingestablishment, was the only person who had a definite selection for the event,but as his choice varied every three hours he was worse than useless as aninspired guide. The crowning difficulty of the problem was that it could only befitfully and furtively discussed. Lady Susan disapproved of racing. Shedisapproved of many things; some people went as far as to say that shedisapproved of most things. Disapproval was to her what neuralgia and fancyneedlework are to many other women. She disapproved of early morning tea andauction bridge, of ski-ing and the two-step, of the Russian ballet and theChelsea Arts Club ball, of the French policy in Morocco and the British policyeverywhere. It was not that she was particularly strict or narrow in her viewsof life, but she had been the eldest sister of a large family of self-indulgentchildren, and her particular form of indulgence had consisted in openlydisapproving of the foibles of the others. Unfortunately the hobby had grown upwith her. As she was rich, influential, and very, very kind, most people werecontent to count their early tea as well lost on her behalf. Still, thenecessity for hurriedly dropping the discussion of an enthralling topic, andsuppressing all mention of it during her presence on the scene, was anaffliction at a moment like the present, when time was slipping away andindecision was the prevailing note.After a lunch-time of rather strangled and uneasy conversation, Clovis managedto get most of the party together at the further end of the kitchen gardens, onthe pretext of admiring the Himalayan pheasants. He had made an importantdiscovery. Motkin, the butler, who (as Clovis expressed it) had grownprematurely grey in Lady Susan's service, added to his other excellent qualitiesan intelligent interest in matters connected with the Turf. On the subject ofthe forthcoming race he was not illuminating, except in so far that he sharedthe prevailing unwillingness to see a winner in Peradventure II. But where heoutshone all the members of the house-party was in the fact that he had a secondcousin who was head stable-lad at a neighbouring racing establishment, andusually gifted with much inside information as to private form andpossibilities. Only the fact of her ladyship having taken it into her head toinvite a house-party for the last week of May had prevented Mr. Motkin frompaying a visit of consultation to his relative with respect to the big race;there was still time to cycle over if he could get leave of absence for theafternoon on some specious excuse."Let's jolly well hope he does," said Bertie van Tahn; "under the circumstancesa second cousin is almost as useful as second sight.""That stable ought to know something, if knowledge is to be found anywhere,"said Mrs. Packletide hopefully."I expect you'll find he'll echo my fancy for Motorboat," said Colonel Drake.At this moment the subject had to be hastily dropped. Lady Susan bore down uponthem, leaning on the arm of Clovis's mother, to whom she was confiding the factthat she disapproved of the craze for Pekingese spaniels. It was the third thingshe had found time to disapprove of since lunch, without counting her silent andpermanent disapproval of the way Clovis's mother did her hair."We have been admiring the Himalayan pheasants," said Mrs. Packletide suavely."They went off to a bird-show at Nottingham early this morning," said LadySusan, with the air of one who disapproves of hasty and ill-considered lying."Their house, I mean; such perfect roosting arrangements, and all so clean,"resumed Mrs. Packletide, with an increased glow of enthusiasm. The odious Bertievan Tahn was murmuring audible prayers for Mrs. Packletide's ultimateestrangement from the paths of falsehood."I hope you don't mind dinner being a quarter of an hour late tonight," saidLady Susan; "Motkin has had an urgent summons to go and see a sick relative thisafternoon. He wanted to bicycle there, but I am sending him in the motor.""How very kind of you! Of course we don't mind dinner being put off." Theassurances came with unanimous and hearty sincerity.At the dinner-table that night an undercurrent of furtive curiosity directeditself towards Motkin's impassive countenance. One or two of the guests almostexpected to find a slip of paper concealed in their napkins, bearing the name ofthe second cousin's selection. They had not long to wait. As the butler wentround with the murmured question, "Sherry?" he added in an even lower tone thecryptic words, "Better not." Mrs. Packletide gave a start of alarm, and refusedthe sherry; there seemed some sinister suggestion in the butler's warning, asthough her hostess had suddenly become addicted to the Borgia habit. A momentlater the explanation flashed on her that "Better Not" was the name of one ofthe runners in the big race. Clovis was already pencilling it on his cuff, andColonel Drake, in his turn, was signalling to every one in hoarse whispers anddumb-show the fact that he had all along fancied "B.N."Early next morning a sheaf of telegrams went Townward, representing the marketcommands of the house-party and servants' hall.It was a wet afternoon, and most of Lady Susan's guests hung about the hall,waiting apparently for the appearance of tea, though it was scarcely yet due.The advent of a telegram quickened every one into a flutter of expectancy; thepage who brought the telegram to Clovis waited with unusual alertness to know ifthere might be an answer.Clovis read the message and gave an exclamation of annoyance."No bad news, I hope," said Lady Susan. Every one else knew that the news wasnot good."It's only the result of the Derby," he blurted out; "Sadowa won; an utteroutsider.""Sadowa!" exclaimed Lady Susan; "you don't say so! How remarkable! It's thefirst time I've ever backed a horse; in fact I disapprove of horse-racing, butjust for once in a way I put money on this horse, and it's gone and won.""May I ask," said Mrs. Packletide, amid the general silence, "why you put yourmoney on this particular horse? None of the sporting prophets mentioned it ashaving an outside chance.""Well," said Lady Susan, "you may laugh at me, but it was the name thatattracted me. You see, I was always mixed up with the Franco-German war; I wasmarried on the day that the war was declared, and my eldest child was born theday that peace was signed, so anything connected with the war has alwaysinterested me. And when I saw there was a horse running in the Derby calledafter one of the battles in the Franco-German war, I said I must put some moneyon it, for once in a way, though I disapprove of racing. And it's actually won."There was a general groan. No one groaned more deeply than the professor ofmilitary history.

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A Matter of Sentiment was featured as TheShort Story of the Day on Tue, Aug 18, 2015

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