"I don't know how the horse managed to lose," said the Saint mournfully.
"Dear me!" said Mr. Deever unctuously. "Dear me! Did it lose?"
The Saint nodded.
"I don't understand it at all. The chappie who sold me this system said it had never had more than three losers in succession. And the stakes go up so frightfully fast. You see, you have to put on more money each time, so that when you win you get back your losses as well. But it simply must win today —"
"How much do you need to put on today, Mr. Smith?"
"About eight hundred pounds. But what with buzzing around an' having a few drinks and what not, don't you know — if you could make it an even thou —"
Mr. Deever rubbed his hands over each other with a face of abysmal gloom.
"A thousand pounds is quite a lot of money, Mr. — er — Smith, but of course, if you can offer some security — purely as a business formality, you understand —"
"Oh, I've got lots of those jolly old Latvian Bonds," said the Saint. "I think I bought about two hundred of 'em. Got to try and pick up a bonus somehow, what?"
Mr. Deever nodded like a mandarin.