He was dark, sullen, dangerous.
"Well?" said the tout, lying in disarray upon the bed.
"I thought you'd done a get-away," said Monkey surlily.
"I've been queer," answered the other. "Has the stuff worked?"
"Worked!" cried the jockey, with smothered fury. "It's worked my trick all right. Never touched the 'orse. Run through him like so much water. The chemist who made up that stuff doped you and not the 'orse—and done me."
"What they done to you?"
"Took the cash off me, and give me the —— boot instead."
The tout considered.
"He's fit, is he?"
"Fit?" snorted the little man. "He's throwin' back-somersaults in his box. That's all."