as you know. They would have scratched La
Sylphide at the last moment, for no one could ride her but Josh Rowle,
and he's in a strait weskit, with two nurses from the 'sylum. Dead
certainty it was, when in comes your guv'nor to spoil as fine a thing as
was ever planned."

"But he mayn't win, after all."

"Tchah! I know the mare, don't I? All he's got to do is to sit still
in the saddle, give her her head, and talk to her as he always knew how,
and she'll romp in past the lot. The game's up, Mr Trimmer, and you
must make the best of it. Here, don't bear no malice. Have another
drink, and take one of these."

"C'rect card, gents; all the runners!" came again from the outside.

Simpkins's outer breast-pocket formed his cigar-case, and he took out a
couple from where they lay loose, and offered them to the agent. But
the latter paid no heed, for he glanced up at the gallery and then at
the bar, beyond which the two maids could be seen, busy serving.

"Sam," whispered Trimmer at last; "quick, before it's too late. The
mare must be got at."

Crack! went a match, and the trainer bit off the cigar end and lit up
quickly.

"Here, ketch hold," he growled. "Be sharp, or it'll be out," and he
offered the burning match. "You talk like a fool. How?"

"You know. Such a little thing would do it. What about King Dick?"

"Hold your cursed row," growled the trainer, threateningly.

"I can't," whispered the agent. "I've too much at stake. Get to the
mare at once. You, a trainer, can manage that."

"You talk like a fool, I tell you. Close upon the time like this."

"Can't you work it with the guv'nor or Lady T.?"

"No. If I could should I be sitting here jawing? Tried it on, and
failed."

"Think of your five thousand pounds."

"I tell you you can't get at the mare."

"C'rect cards, gents," came again from without, in Dandy Dinny's raucous
voice. But his cry was unheard within, where Trimmer, with a peculiar
Mephistophelian smile upon his face, gave another glance upwards at the
gallery, before leaning forward till his lips were quite close to the
trainer's great red ear, into which he whispered--

"No, of course not; but you could get at the man."

The trainer started to his feet, the cigar he had just lit falling from
his gaping mouth, just as Dandy Dinny passed the window, leering in, and
then hurried out of sight with his hawking cry, for there was the sound
of carriage wheels approaching the h