air
aside and strode over to the fireplace. Would Foster remove the supper
things? He had begun to gather the plates and dishes together when
Copley stopped him.

"Oh, never mind the things," he said impatiently. "Let the man remove
them in the morning. He can finish up what is left. We have more
important matters to attend to. Take a cigar and sit down by the fire.
What is the next move?"

"We have had cruel bad luck," Foster replied. "Who would have expected
to have two race-days ruined by snowstorms? A prophet could not have
foreseen anything like this. I reckon we have lost twenty thousand
pounds the last two days."

"It's a bad start," Copley answered. "We didn't have the luck, and we
haven't made the money. I was on the roof yesterday and to-day, and I
declare to you I couldn't see a single incident in the race. I've never
seen two such blinding snow showers. It was simply maddening to stand
there and feel a fortune supping through your fingers, all on account of
the snow. And that's not the worst, Foster. It will be another month
before there will be two days' racing at Mirst Park, and we can't count
upon a single penny till then. I tell you frankly I don't know where to
turn for ready cash. It's all very fine to have tradesmen breaking their
necks to get my custom, but that doesn't fill my purse with the needful.
It's very odd that a man in my position can procure almost any article
of value he pleases, but when it comes to raising a bit of cash
everybody's suspicions are aroused at once."

"Well, philosophy won't help us," Foster said. "We must annex some ready
money to carry us over the next month, at any rate. The same ill luck
can't happen at the next meeting. Such a coincidence couldn't happen
twice. Don't forget that if we can manage to hang on for four weeks we
shall make enough to carry us on to the Derby, and after the big race is
run we shall be in clover. If you work your cards properly the Blenheim
colt is bound to lose, and with this knowledge we can lay against the
horse as long as anybody is fool enough to take our bets."

"I haven't forgotten that," Copley said. "Of course, I haven't spoken to
Sir George about it yet, but I have asked him to dine with me on Sunday
evening at Seton Manor, and I shall put on the screw then. He'll kick at
first. He'll talk about the blood of his ancestors and the honour of his
race and all that kind of rot, but he is bound to give in. If I asked
him to-night h