sed on only, at a sign from Phillips,
Carden detained him.

"Come and lunch with us, Rickerby," he said. "Try this new brand of
champagne. Waiter, lay a place for Mr. Rickerby. Bring another bottle.
No, on second thoughts, you had better bring a magnum. Rickerby, let me
introduce my friend Mr. Phillips. He is just home from the Cape."

Rickerby touched an imaginary forelock.

"Proud to make your acquaintance, sir," he said. "Do you do anything in
our line?"

"Well, I have," Phillips said. "I used to follow racing closely enough
before I left England. Out yonder, from my point of view, I found
something better. Still, there is nothing so fascinating as the great
game. I daresay I shall make a wager or two before the season is over. I
suppose one can't make bets here?"

"Not unless you are a member," the Major explained. "The committee are
most particular about that kind of thing. They must think of the police.
But I've no doubt Rickerby will be glad to accommodate you."

"Certainly, sir," Rickerby said. "Up to any amount you like. The Major's
introduction is good enough for me, and a telegram or letter will always
receive attention."

Gradually the conversation became more general. Luncheon was a thing of
the past, and cigars and coffee had been set out in the smoking-room.
Phillips seemed to find Rickerby a mine of interesting information, for
he plied him with diplomatic questions. Under the influence of the
champagne and brandy Rickerby expanded.

"Swindles, my dear sir!" he exclaimed. "There is no end to them. We drop
on a dozen dodges every year of which the public know nothing. Why don't
we prosecute? Because it isn't worth while, and the police are not
sympathetic. Moreover, why should we let the public know of ways and
means by which they might rob us? Ah, I could tell you of one or two
men, and big men, too, in some of the West End clubs who would find
themselves in a pretty tight place if some of us only liked to open our
mouths. But what's the use? Why throw good money after bad?"

"But don't you get done?" Phillips asked.

"Well, very rarely," Rickerby responded, "but there are others in the
club, who seem to me to lay themselves out for that sort of thing.
There's a chap here called Selwyn, a rich young Australian fool, who
thinks he knows everything. He's just the type of mark that the
broken-down racing man prays for. He's in the hands of one or two here
who are robbing him of thousands. He's s