“I beg your pardon, sir. I didn’t think you’d be back yet, and so I’d made so bold.”
“Bring it back,” said Chris sternly.
“Bless the poor man, what is coming to him?” muttered the landlady, as she hurried out to her own room. “He was once as amiable as a dove, and now nothing’s right for him.”
“Thank you; that will do,” said Chris, shortly; and as soon as he was alone he stood with the paper in his hand.
Volume One—Chapter Fifteen.
Tempted.
It was some minutes before Chris opened that paper, and then he had to turn it over and over before he found the racing intelligence, and even then he did not begin to read, for plainly before him were the words,—
“Back the Prince’s filly.”