ark did not say anything, but winked and jerked his thumb over his
right shoulder in the direction the young couple had taken.

"What do you want?" growled the trainer, surlily.

"Room for the guv'nor--Sir Hilton Lisle, Bart--to dress for the race."

"Then it is true," said the trainer to himself, as to hide his face from
the groom he turned his back, walked to a bell-handle, and pulled it
violently before returning.

"Got a lot on our mare, eh, Mr Simpkins?"

"No!" growled the trainer. "I heered she was not going to run."

"Knowing ones ain't always right, sir."

At that moment the chambermaid appeared.

"Room for Sir Hilton Lisle," cried the trainer, hoarsely. "Put him in
number one. Well, this is a facer!" he muttered, as he turned away. "I
must have a drop for this," and he hurried into the bar.

"Hullo, my dear," cried Mark. "My word, what a cap! I say, what's the
matter with the boss?"

"He's got a sore head," said the chambermaid, sharply. "I never see
such a bear."

"He's been backing the wrong horse, I know," said Mark.

"Then you don't know nothing about it, Mr Clever. Here, I've got one
for you."

The speaker led the way up the stairs into the open gallery, to pause at
the top by the door of the room her master had named, Mark following
with the bag and overcoat.

"Well, let's have it," said Mark.

"Why, I should ha' thought you must ha' known."

"Known what--as my guv'nor's going on the Turf again?"

"Bother the Turf! I'm sick of the name. No; master's found out about
Miss Molly."

"Eh? What about her?"

"Married! How do you like that?"

"Never tried yet, my dear. But who to?"

"Who to, indeed! A chit of a boy."

"Wha-a-at!" cried Mark, and a light broke upon him as he recalled what
he had just seen. "Not our Master Syd?"

"Right first time."

"Oh, here's a game," began Mark. "Quick, here's master, and I haven't
put out his duds."

The groom dashed through the door the girl threw open just as Sir
Hilton, who had been to the paddock, came up to the porch ready to meet
the trainer, who was coming from the bar wiping his lips with the back
of his hand.

"It's all up!" he groaned to himself.

"Ah, Sam Simpkins, how are you? Surprised to see me here again, eh?"

"Sur-prised ain't the word for it, Sir Hilton," cried the trainer,
making an effort to look landlordly, and speaking in boisterous tones.
"Staggered, Sir Hilton. That's nearer the mark; but come in, S