slip of paper which
contained such cryptic sentences as: "Grape Shot gone wrong, though he
will run. Pocket Book is the tip. If you're on Grape Shot, hedge on best
terms you can get," etc.

"I understand that," said Jack, "you've--if this means you--you've
backed the wrong horse."

"Exactly," said Acton. "I backed Grape Shot for the Lincolnshire
Handicap, and he hasn't a ghost of a chance now. Gone wrong."

"I see," said Jack, absolutely staggered that Acton, a monitor, should
tell him, a fag, that he was betting on horse-racing.

"I see, young 'un, that you seem surprised at my little flutter, but, by
Jove! this will have to be my last. Do you know, Bourne, I'm in an awful
hole."

"I'm very sorry to hear it," said Jack, with no end of concern.

"You see, if Pocket Book pulls the handicap off before I've time to trim
my sails, I lose a lot."

"Much," said Jack, "_for you?_"

"Thirty pounds."

"Whew!" whistled Bourne.

"I get a good allowance from home, Bourne, but I'm bound to say thirty
pounds would cripple me."

"Rather," said Jack, with a gasp.

"Of course, if the worst did come to the worst, I'd have to apply to
home; but there would be, as you might guess, no end of a row about it."

"Then you must hedge," said Jack.

"That is it, exactly. I must back Pocket Book for first place. This is a
sure tip--I can depend upon it."

"Then send to the fellow you bet with, and let him put you on Pocket
Book."

"That is just it, Jack--the bookmaker wouldn't take a bet from me."

"Why ever not?" said Jack, mystified.

"Because I'm a minor--I'm under age."

"Then how do you manage?" said Jack.

"Why, I bet through another man."

"I see," said Jack, for this was but another edition of his own little
adventures. "And that man----"

"Is Raffles," said Acton, quietly.

Jack bounced out of his chair as if he had been stung. "That beast!" he
gasped.

"Raffles?" said Acton, with a slow smile. "I didn't know he was a
beast."

"He is the meanest skunk alive," said Jack. He added fervently, "Acton,
have no dealings with that fellow. He is an abominable sharper."

"Thanks," said Acton, with a slight grimace at Jack's advice. "But, all
the same, I have to deal through Raffles."

"Then write to the fellow."

"I don't know--I've forgotten his address."

"Well, I'm hanged if I understand it!" said Jack, lost in astonishment.
"If you don't know it, and your bookmaker will only bet through Raffles,
you ar