es, the hoods and bonnets, Sir Bale was soon among the
betting men, deep in more serious business.

How did he make his book? He did not break his word. He backed Beeswing,
Falcon, and Lightning. But it must be owned not for a shilling more than
the five guineas each, to which he stood pledged. The odds were
forty-five to one against Beeswing, sixty to one against Lightning, and
fifty to one against Falcon.

"A pretty lot to choose!" exclaimed Sir Bale, with vexation. "As if I
had money so often, that I should throw it away!"

The Baronet was testy thinking over all this, and looked on Feltram's
message as an impertinence and the money as his own.

Let us now see how Sir Bale Mardykes' pocket fared.

Sulkily enough at the close of the week he turned his back on Heckleston
racecourse, and took the road to Golden Friars.

He was in a rage with his luck, and by no means satisfied with himself;
and yet he had won something. The result of the racing had been curious.
In the three principal races the favourites had been beaten: one by an
accident, another on a technical point, and the third by fair running.
And what horses had won? The names were precisely those which the
"fortune-teller" had predicted.

Well, then, how was Sir Bale in pocket as he rode up to his ancestral
house of Mardykes, where a few thousand pounds would have been very
welcome? He had won exactly 775 guineas; and had he staked a hundred
instead of five on each of the names communicated by Feltram, he would
have won 15,500 guineas.

He dismounted before his hall-door, therefore, with the discontent of a
man who had lost nearly 15,000 pounds. Feltram was upon the steps, and
laughed dryly.

"What do you laugh at?" asked Sir Bale tartly.

"You've won, haven't you?"

"Yes, I've won; I've won a trifle."

"On the horses I named?"

"Well, yes; it so turned out, by the merest accident."

Feltram laughed again dryly, and turned away.

Sir Bale entered Mardykes Hall, and was surly. He was in a much worse
mood than before he had ridden to Heckleston. But after a week or so
ruminating upon the occurrence, he wondered that Feltram spoke no more
of it. It was undoubtedly wonderful. There had been no hint of repayment
yet, and he had made some hundreds by the loan; and, contrary to all
likelihood, the three horses named by the unknown soothsayer had won.
Who was this gipsy? It would be worth bringing the soothsayer to
Mardykes, and giving his people a