“Why, to say truth,” answered Tyrrell, “I have so very bad an opinion of him, that I was almost afraid to trust myself in his company on so dreary a road. I have nearly (and he knows it), to the amount of two thousand pounds about me; for I was very fortunate in my betting-book today.”
“I know nothing about racing regulations,” said I; “but I thought one never paid sums of that amount upon the ground?”
“Ah!” answered Tyrrell, “but I won this sum, which is L1,800., of a country squire from Norfolk, who said he did not know when he should see me again, and insisted on paying me on the spot: ‘faith I was not nice in the matter. Thornton was standing by at the time, and I did not half like the turn of his eye when he saw me put it up. Do you know, too,” continued Tyrrell, after a pause, “that I have had a d—d fellow dodging me all day, and yesterday too; wherever I go, I am sure to see him. He seems constantly, though distantly, to follow me; and what is worse, he wraps himself up so well, and keeps at so cautious a distance, that I can never catch a glimpse of his face.”
I know not why, but at that moment the recollection of the muffled figure I had seen upon the course, flashed upon me.
“Does he wear a long horseman’s cloak?” said I.
“He does,” answered Tyrrell, in surprise: “have you observed him?”
“I saw such a person on the race ground,” replied I; “but only for an instant!”
Farther conversation was suspended by a few heavy drops which fell upon us; the cloud had passed over the moon, and was hastening rapidly and loweringly over our heads. Tyrrell was neither of an age, a frame, nor a temper, to be so indifferent to a hearty wetting as myself.
“God!” he cried, “you must put on that beast of your’s—I can’t get wet, for all the horses in the world.”
I was not much pleased with the dictatorial tone of this remark. “It is impossible,” said I, “especially as the horse is not my own, and seems considerably lamer than at first; but let me not detain you.”