hat I have?"

"You lost too?"

"Yes, uncle," cried Syd, shaking him; "but you haven't. You won--for
all of us. I turned that ten you gave me into a century."

"I--won?" stammered Sir Hilton, with his hands pressing his temples.

"To be sure you did. You were sitting all of a jelly, and the game was
nearly up; but Dr Jack Granton gave you a drench, just as if you'd been
a horse. Then we got you into the air, and you came round directly, and
ran between us to the saddling paddock, where we set you on to the mare
just in time, and you led the field from the beginning. You won in a
canter. Can't you recollect?"

"No, nothing."

"Don't you remember nearly tumbling off the horse after you'd passed the
post?"

"No."

"Nor getting into the scales, saddle and bridle and all?"

"No; nothing whatever."

"Oh, Sam Simpkins, you must have given him a dose!"

"Yes, I remember that--that champagne. It did taste very queer and
strange," cried Sir Hilton, turning upon the trainer, whose red face
looked piebald with sickly white, so strangely was it mottled.

"I'd had it a long time, Sir Hilton," stammered the man. "P'raps it was
a bit off."

"Oh, hang that!" cried Sir Hilton. "Tell me again, Syd, my boy; did I
win?"

"In a canter, I tell you, uncle," cried the boy.

"Ha!" sighed Sir Hilton, with a look of intense relief. "But it must be
kept from your aunt. She has such--"

"Kept from auntie?" cried Syd, staring. "Why, she knows all."

"Knows all? You've told her?"

"No-o-o-o. Don't you remember? No, you recollect nothing. She got to
know you were off to ride somehow, and came after us to the hotel."

"What?"

"That's right, uncle. Lady Lisle came and saw him, didn't she, Sam?"

"Yes, sir," growled Sam, still mopping his face.

"But not dressed--not in my silk and boots?"

"Oh, yes, uncle. Didn't she, Sam?"

"Yes, sir; that's right enough."

"Horror!" groaned Sir Hilton. "She'll never forgive me."

"Worse than that, uncle. She saw that you were tight."

"You young villain, it's not true!" roared Sir Hilton. "How dare you
say that!"

"Because it's true," cried Syd, lightly. "Isn't it, Sam?"

"Yes, sir," faltered the man. "Wery screwed indeed."

"Tell me the rest," groaned Sir Hilton in despair.

"Fainted away, uncle; but I didn't stop to see. I had to look to you
and the race. But afterwards Dr Jack Granton went back to the hotel and
physicked her. Didn't he, Sam?"

"Yes