"We have to spread it around to try and keep the starting price from shortening," explained the Colonel.
Simon Templar nodded, and leaned back with his eyes half-closed, listening to the click and tinkle of the dial and Immelbern's afflicted voice. Five times the process was repeated, and during the giving of the fifth order Uppingdon interrupted again.
"Make it two-fifty this time, Sidney," he said.
Mr. Immelbern said: "Just a moment, will you hold on?" to the transmitter, covered it with his hand, and turned aggrievedly.
"I thought you said a thousand. That makes a thousand and fifty."
"Well, I thought Mr. Templar might like to have fifty on." Simon hesitated.
"That's about all I've got on me," he said.
"Don't let that bother you, my dear boy," boomed Colonel Uppingdon. "Your credit's good with me, and I feel that I owe you something to compensate for what you've put up with. Make it a hundred if you like."
"But Sir George!" wailed Mr. Immelbern.
"Dammit, will you stop whining 'But Sir George!'?" exploded the Colonel. "That settles it. Make it three hundred — that will be a hundred on for Mr. Templar. And if the horse doesn't win, I'll stand the loss myself."