Fast as the Wind A Novel   By: Nat Gould (1857-1919)

A NOVEL

By NAT GOULD

AUTHOR OF "The Rider in Khaki," Etc.

[Decoration]

A. L. BURT COMPANY

Publishers New York

Published by arrangement with Frederick A. Stokes Company

Copyright, 1918, by

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY

All rights reserved

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. THE BOOM OF A GUN 1

II. STORY OF AN ESCAPE 10

III. THE MAN ON THE ROAD 20

IV. THE WOMAN AT THE TABLE 30

V. PICTON'S WINNING MOUNTS 40

VI. IN BRACK'S COTTAGE 50

VII. A CRITICAL MOMENT 59

VIII. ON BOARD THE "SEA MEW" 69

IX. LENISE ELROY 79

X. HAVERTON 88

XI. TEARAWAY AND OTHERS 97

XII. "I THINK HE'S DEAD" 106

XIII. A WOMAN'S FEAR 115

XIV. NOT RECOGNISED 124

XV. "THE ST. LEGER'S IN YOUR POCKET" 132

XVI. HOW HECTOR FOUGHT THE BLOODHOUND 140

XVII. AN INTRODUCTION AT HURST PARK 149

XVIII. CONSCIENCE TROUBLES 158

XIX. "WHAT WOULD YOU DO?" 165

XX. RITA SEES A RESEMBLANCE 174

XXI. BRACK TURNS TRAVELER 182

XXII. DONCASTER 191

XXIII. THE CROWD IN THE RING 200

XXIV. "BY JOVE, SHE'S WONDERFUL" 208

XXV. FAST AS THE WIND 216

XXVI. THE STRUGGLE FOR THE CUP 224

XXVII. THE RESERVED COMPARTMENT 233

XXVIII. HOW HECTOR HAD HIS REVENGE 241

XXIX. AN ASTONISHING COMMUNICATION 250

XXX. TEARAWAY'S PROGENY 258

FAST AS THE WIND

CHAPTER I

THE BOOM OF A GUN

A small but splendidly built yacht steamed slowly into Torbay, passed Brixham and Paignton, and came to anchor in the outer harbor at Torquay. It was a glorious spring morning, early, and the sun shone on the water with a myriad of dancing reflections; it bathed in light the beautiful town, the scores of villas nestling on the heights surrounding it, the palms on the terrace walk, on the mass of greenery clothing foot to summit, on the inner harbor, and on the rocky coast stretching out towards Anstey's Cove and Babbacombe Beach. It was a magnificent sight, the arts of man and nature mingled together, for once harmonizing, for Torquay has not been spoilt by builders, at least as seen from the bay. Behind, Brixham way, the red sails of the fishing boats flapped lazily in an idle breeze. Four men of war lay still in the bay, guardians of the peace, comforting, reassuring, a hint of what lay behind. How peaceful these monsters of the deep looked. Slumbering surely were they. What was that? A puff of white smoke, then a solemn sound, which sped across the bay, and echoed over the hills. One of the monsters had spoken, just to show it was wide awake.

It had a curious effect on the man leaning over the side of the Sea mew , the yacht that had just come to anchor. It startled him from his reverie, from his contemplation of all that was so beautiful around him.

For a moment he looked across at the warships, and saw the smoke drifting away, then he turned and looked over the town and its heights, and his thoughts went far and landed on Dartmoor.

Another gun boomed out. This time it seemed more natural. Again the echo ran over the hills, and again he turned and looked towards that vast moor which lay behind.

"Supposing it were true," he muttered. "Would to God it were, and that he were safe on board my yacht. All for a woman, and such a woman!"

He clenched his fist and struck the rail.