Jack paid for the drinks, and winking warningly to Tom, followed the man outside.
"The name o' the 'oss," the fellow said—"But tell yer wot, I'll put ye on the divvy with a book I know—or y' c'n come wi' me. He keeps a paper-shop in Hay Street."
"We don't know the name of the horse yet."
"Comin' from up North you don't know the name o' none of 'em, do yer? He's a rank outsider. Y' oughter get twenties on 'im."
"We've only got a quid atween us," said Tom.
"Well, that means a safe forty—after th' race."
"Bob on!" said Tom. "Where's the bookshop?"
"How can we go in an' back a hoss without knowin' his name?" said Jack.
"Oh I'll tip it y' in 'ere."
They entered a small paper-shop, and the man said to the fellow behind the counter: