“When do we go for Brussels, Grog?” asked he, anxious to change the subject.
“Here's the map of the country,” said Davis, producing a card scrawled over with lines and figures. “Brussels, the 12th and 14th; Spa, the 20th; Aix, the 25th. Then you might take a shy at Dusseldorf, I can't; I winged a Prussian major there five years ago, and they won't let me in. I 'll meet you at Wiesbaden, and we 'll have a week at the tables. You 'll have to remember that I 'm Captain Christopher so long as we're on the Rhine; once at Baden, 'Richard's himself again!'”
“Is this for either of you, gentlemen?” said the waiter, presenting an envelope from the telegraph-office.
“Yes; I'm Captain Davis,” said Grog, as he broke the seal.
“'Is the Dean able to preach?—may we have a collection?—Telegraph back.—Tom,'” read? Davis, slowly, aloud; and then added, “Ain't he a flat to be always telegraphing these things? As if every fellow in the office couldn't see his game!”
“Spicer, is it?” asked Beecher.
“Yes; he wants to hear how the horse is,—if there's good running in him, and what he's to lay on; but that's no way to ask it. I mind the day, at Wolverton, when Lord Berrydale got one of these: 'Your mother is better,—they are giving her tonics.' And I whispered to George Rigby, 'It 's about Butterfly his mare, that's in for the York, and that's to say, “She's all safe, lay heavy on it.” And so I hedged round, and backed her up to eight thousand,—ay, and I won my money; and when Berrydale said to me after the race was over, 'Grog,' says he, 'you seem to have had a glimpse of the line of country this time,' says I to him; 'Yes, my Lord,' says I; 'and I 'm glad to find the tonics agree with your Lordship's mother.' Did n't he redden up to the roots of his hair! and when he turned away he said, 'There's no coming up to that fellow Davis!'”
“But I wonder you let him see that you were in his secret,” said Beecher.
“That was the way to treat him. If it was Baynton or Berries, I'd not have said a word; but I knew Berrydale was sure to let me have a share in the first good thing going just out of fear of me, and so he did; that was the way I came to back Old Bailey.”
It was now Beecher's turn to gaze with admiring wonder at this great intelligence, and certainly his look was veneration itself.