e-meeting was initiated, in the
year 1781. They were made in the town by a local silversmith, whose
great-great-grandson still carries on the business. The fifty were
distributed amongst the fifty leading burgesses of the town to be kept
in their families for ever--nobody ever anticipated in those days that
our race-meeting would ever be discontinued. The ticket carried great
privileges. It made its holder, and all members of his family, male and
female, free of the stands, rings, and paddocks. It gave the holder
himself and his eldest son, if of age, the right to a seat at our grand
race banquet--at which, I may tell you, Mr. Spargo, Royalty itself has
been present in the good old days. Consequently, as you see, to be the
holder of a silver ticket was to be somebody."

"And when the race-meeting fell through?" asked Spargo. "What then?"

"Then, of course, the families who held the tickets looked upon them as
heirlooms, to be taken great care of," replied Mr. Quarterpage. "They
were dealt with as I dealt with mine--framed on velvet, and hung up--or
locked away: I am sure that anybody who had one took the greatest care
of it. Now, I said last night, over there at the 'Dragon,' that I could
repeat the names of all the families who held these tickets. So I can.
But here"--the old gentleman drew out a drawer and produced from it a
parchment-bound book which he handled with great reverence--"here is a
little volume of my own handwriting--memoranda relating to Market
Milcaster Races--in which is a list of the original holders, together
with another list showing who held the tickets when the races were
given up. I make bold to say, Mr. Spargo, that by going through the
second list, I could trace every ticket--except the one you have in
your purse."

"Every one?" said Spargo, in some surprise.

"Every one! For as I told you," continued Mr. Quarterpage, "the
families are either in the town (we're a conservative people here in
Market Milcaster and we don't move far afield) or they're just outside
the town, or they're not far away. I can't conceive how the ticket you
have--and it's genuine enough--could ever get out of possession of one
of these families, and--"

"Perhaps," suggested Spargo, "it never has been out of possession. I
told you it was found in the lining of a box--that box belonged to a
dead man."

"A dead man!" exclaimed Mr. Quarterpage. "A dead man! Who could--ah!
Perhaps--perhaps I have an idea. Yes!--an idea