“But I do, Orthur,” he replied in a hoarse whisper. “It isn’t Mr Rob’s or Mr Paddy’s this time, but a put-up thing of the guv’nor’s.”
Arthur whistled in his excitement.
“It means a big stroke, Orthur. I’ve got the tip, and if you and me’s got the pluck to do it we’re made men.”
“Oh, we’ve got the pluck,” said the footman, huskily. “What’s the ’orse?”
“Not a horse at all, my lad. It’s a company. They’re working it to rights, and I’ve found out all about it, Orthur. I’ve seen the letters. They’re going to blow the thing up full of wind, and buy up all the shares they can. Then when the thing’s at the height, they sell, and make thousands.”
“Phew!” whistled the footman.
“S’pose we make a couple o’ thou, a-piece; that’s better than backing horses.”
“Yes; but could we?”
“Don’t they, my lad? Isn’t all this place run that way? Why shouldn’t we do it as well as them? They ain’t so precious clever after all.”
“Not as I see,” said the younger man, contemptuously.