"Yes. The Marquis came up to Jack Green's--you know old Jack Green?--and an out-and-out tout the Marquis is! He'd seen Devilskin that morning, and says he's first-rate, head and tail up, fit to jump a town! The Marquis--you know why he's called the Marquis--no? Why, because he was cab-boy to Lord Waterford in the old days--the Marquis saw Griffin, who's going to ride Devilskin to-day, and he's put the pot on so far as he can go, and says there's nothing to touch him in the lot."
"I see Devilskin holds his place in the betting."
"Yes. Vixen came with a rush yesterday afternoon, I understand; but her temper's so awful, her people never know what she's going to do. That's good for our side, as the man says; and besides, she can't hold a candle to the black horse--if he's meant."
"If he's meant! Why, good Lord! there can't be a doubt about that."
"There's always a doubt about any turf event, my noble Captain; and these Davidsons, who own Devilskin, are reg'lar legs, you know--legs, as the man says! But Griffin swears he means to ride on the square, and--what's the matter with you now?"
"Nothing, my dear boy, nothing. I've been a little queer these last few days, that's all. I--I suppose you've not hedged?"
"Not a penny! My book ain't so heavy as yours; at least so I gathered from what they said at Pommeroy's last night. You must have done a heavy lot, you must; but you West-end swells can stand it,--that's one thing, as the man says."
"If the man said that," said Mr. Guyon with a very ghastly smile, "he talked about what he knew nothing of. However, let's have breakfast now, and then get down to Croydon."
The breakfast, an elaborate one of the heavy sporting order--many kidneys, large chops, ham and eggs--was done ample justice to by Mr. Stallbrass, whose digestive powers were never out of order; while Mr. Guyon merely picked at a sardine with a shaking hand, and drank tea feverishly. In the course of the meal Mr. Stallbrass said----
"Saw Bob Streightley going to the Great Western as I drove through. Going down to his place in Bucks, I suppose; and going early, as if it was to his business. He is a rum 'un--as Jack Green says, 'The early bird's worth two worms in the bush.' He don't look well, don't Bob Streightley, though; pale in the gills, and seems to me to have aged a good deal."