“Yes, horses,” I said, taking up the cue which he had given me; “but it’s a fool’s game, and I’ve lost a lot of money over it already.”
“Ah!” with a grin. “And yer’ve got a hintroduction, of course. I don’t take on customers of that sort without a hintroduction. It ain’t safe.”
The affair was panning out beyond my reckoning, but from what had transpired I felt sure that I should be safe in assuming he was more of a betting agent than a barber, and that the wisest thing for me to do would be, by bluffing boldly, to lead him to suppose I knew all about him; so I nodded assent as airily as possible, and as if his question had been a mere matter of course.
“Who is it?” he asked point blank.
“Morrison,” I replied, without a moment’s hesitation—“Henry Morrison, of Doncaster. You recollect him—tall man, clean-shaven and small eyes. Wears a fawn coat and a brown billycock. He said any money I put on with you would be quite safe.”
The barber nodded. “Like as not, though I don’t rekerllect him from yer description. Well, wot d’yer want me to back?”
“Ah, that’s what I wish you to tell me,” I said—this time at least with absolute truthfulness, for as a matter of fact I did not know as much as the name of one of the horses, or what was the race which we were supposed to be discussing.
“Greased Lightning’s the lay,” he said. “It’s a dead cert. I can get yer level money now. It’ll be four to two hon to-morrow. How much are yer going to spring?”
I replied that he could put a “flimsy” on for me; and after he had entered the amount and my name—which I gave as Henry Watson—in a greasy notebook, I wished him good morning, promising to call again soon to see if there were any letters.
The rest of the day I spent for the most part in my bedroom watching the customers who patronised Professor Lawrance’s saloon; nor was my vigil without result in assisting me to form an opinion as to the class of business which was there carried on. Not more than a dozen people entered the establishment during the day, and the majority of them had called neither to be shaved nor to have their hair cut. My reason for coming to this conclusion was not that I had such telescopic and microscopic eyes as to be able to detect in every case whether the caller had been under the barber’s hand since his entrance, but because most of Professor Lawrance’s customers did not remain inside his shop more than half a minute, and because, too, I saw a letter in the hand of more than one of those who came out. And as the postman never passed the door without making a delivery, and the callers were all more or less horsey in dress and appearance, the evidence seemed to point pretty clearly to the fact that Professor Lawrance was, as I had already surmised, more of a betting agent than a barber.