When Sam returned to the White Chestnut, his pockets were bulging with coins. Frodo and Lad had returned to the private sitting room where the Longchalks had left them by that time, and after the inn servant had shown him in, Sam took out the money by the handful and placed it on the table before them.
"Milo put Mosco on the pony, just as you said to, and the little lad rode 'm for all he was worth!" he explained. "They came in nose 'n' tail ahead of everybody else. We all put every bit o' spending money we had on the race, and you see how it turned out."
"Did you tell them why it was important?" asked Frodo.
Sam shook his head. "Only that Lad was in need of it. They guessed as you was in some sort o' trouble, Lad, when you went off this morning and didn't come back--Milo's had his suspicions awhile now--and figured that if they did as Frodo wanted, he'd get you out of it right enough. It's enough money, isn't it?"
"More than enough." Frodo was touched that his cousins had so much faith in his abilities; he hoped he would be able to live up to their expectations. "Thank you, Sam. Will you do one last thing, please? The Longchalk brothers are just outside. Will you fetch them for us, and say that Lad and I are ready to deal with them."
By the time Sam returned with Udo, Ulfodo, and Urgo in tow, Frodo had arranged the coins on the table in a row of neat stacks. The Longchalks' eyes went wide at the sight, and Udo grinned.
"There it is," said Frodo, with a gestures over the glinting, gold and silver stacks. "All the money you could ask for in recompense you for your trouble... and you won't get your hands on a penny of it."
The three brothers gaped at him. So did Sam and Lad.
"What do you mean?" said Udo. "You've got the money. Just give it to us, and that'll be the end of it."
"No, I don't think that would be the end of it. Since our last interview," Frodo explained, "I've had time to think things over, just as you suggested. I've wondered what you lads might really be up to. Your behavior throughout this business has been so very odd, I can't simply say it's because you're angry and disappointed over losing at the races."
"We are so!" insisted Ulfodo. "I'm very angry, and disappointed."
"Nonsense. If you truly had suspicions that Lad was up to something, why not make the matter public? That's what righteously outraged and honest hobbits would do. As a matter of fact, we have an officer of the law right here with us." Frodo indicated Sam, who had little idea what Frodo was up to, but had moved to stand before the door with his arms folded and a no-nonsense look on his face. "Chief Shirriff Gamgee is out of his usual jurisdiction, but I'm certain he'd be happy to hear your complaint and bring it to the proper authorities."
The Longchalks regarded Sam warily and said nothing.
"I didn't think so," said Frodo. "You've no charge to bring against Lad. That's not what you're after. Why make your suspicions public when you can resort to this quiet sort of blackmail--and make no mistake, blackmail it is. And yet I don't believe it's the money you're after. I should've seen the truth the moment Lad introduced you to me. Your father's run against Mayor Whitfoot in the last elections, hasn't he? It wouldn't surprise me to learn that he plans to stand again in the upcoming election this autumn."
"So he is!" Lad exclaimed triumphantly.
"What if he is? What's that got to do with anything?" demanded Udo, but he seemed less intimidating; he and his brothers were defensive now.
"It has everything to do with it," Frodo answered. "Once I saw that, I began to imagine the terrific scandal you could make up out of nothing by accusing Lad of trickery on the race course. If the Mayor's own son were disgraced, it might tell against the Mayor himself and spoil his chances of being re-elected to his office. But you couldn't go around making unfounded accusations. A rumor of misconduct wouldn't hold on its own, even if Fleetfoot continued to lose. That's the reason for these threats and demands for money, isn't it? The worst thing we could do is give in to them. Lad was quite right in the first place: paying for your silence would look like proof of guilt. Giving you one penny of this-" he ran his fingers up around one stack of coins, making them rattle softly, "would be the worst thing Lad could do."
"What if we go and tell now?" Ulfodo threatened.
"First, you'll have to get past Mr. Gamgee. He's fought greater foes than you on my behalf," Frodo threatened back. "Then if you're determined to try such tricks, you'll find yourselves in worse trouble than you hoped ever to make for Lad. I will make the whole ugly business public. I'll bring your conduct to the attention of everyone who takes an interest in racing within twenty miles of Michel Delving. Perhaps they'll believe you about Lad, and perhaps they'll believe me, but please be assured that I will do all I can to see that none of you sets foot on a racing course again. I will also tell your father what you've been up to--or does he know already?"
This last was a guess, but it struck true. Whether their father was a part of their scheme or the Longchalks were afraid that he would find out about it, the last of their belligerence and menace collapsed. They agreed to do as Frodo wanted.
"I'm sorry I had to put you to so much trouble, Sam," Frodo apologized as they gathered up the stacks of coins after the Longchalk brothers had been dismissed. "I didn't see what was truly going on until after we'd parted."
"Are you sure they won't carry tales?" asked Lad. "You made them promise they wouldn't, but all the same, Fleetfoot won at higher odds, just as they said I meant him to do..."
"Well, they can't hold you responsible for that. You were nowhere near the races at the time, due to their own interference, and the idea to have Mosco ride in your place was mine alone. No trickery of yours, Lad. I can't say certainly that they're hobbits to keep their word--I rather doubt they are--but I've made them see that they won't serve their father by sullying your good name," Frodo replied. "If they're fools enough to carry on with their threats out of spite, then I'll do just as I said. I am on your side in this, Lad, as well as after what's just and fair. In this case, they happen to be the same thing."
"Yes, I believe you are!" Lad said appreciatively. "I've never seen you so fierce before, Frodo. You quite frightened those bullies. I don't know how I can thank you. Come to dinner tonight, won't you, both of you? I'm sure Angelica won't mind."
As they went out, Angelica came into the inn. Lad froze at the sight of her, but they were standing in the middle of the entrance hall and there was nowhere to hide.
"There you are, Frodo!" Angelica greeted him first, then took in her husband with a glance and said innocently, "I didn't know you were here, dear. I thought you'd be off at the races 'til all hours. How did your pony do today?"
"He won!" said Lad, but didn't dare say more.
"How wonderful for you, darling! Are you and Sam going back to the fairfields right away? I've asked Frodo to judge a few competitions and need him now--that is, if you've finished that other business you were telling me about, Frodo. Is it done?"
"Yes," Frodo answered. "Everything's settled quite satisfactorily."
"Good, then you must come with me and settle who's the best quilter before an awful quarrel develops between Mrs. Deepdelve and Mrs. Talltrees." Angelica lay a hand on Frodo's arm. "Why don't you come along too, Sam?"
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