“Haw, haw, haw! Hark at that, Jane! He didn’t see her ladyship’s carriage at the races. Oh, no! He didn’t go and see old Sam Simpkins, the trainer, and make a bet or two; not him! And I wasn’t close behind him in the crowd when the guv’nor came in a winner, and I didn’t see him bang his hat down on the ground and stamp on it. Oh, no! You give me that hat, Mr Trimmer, sir, and I’ll brush and sponge it and iron it into shape so that it’ll look as good as new.”
The agent’s countenance went through several changes before it settled down into a ghastly smile.
“Well, well,” he said, “I must confess to being attracted to seeing the big race, but I did not know you would be there, Mark. But you surprise me. Sir Hilton and her ladyship not returned? A great surprise, though, Mark—Jane. You know, of course? Sir Hilton returning to the old evil ways.”
“Yah? Chuck it up, Mr Trimmer, sir,” said Mark, in a tone of disgust; “and when you tell her ladyship you caught me and Jane here talking after she let me in, just you tell her how much you won on the race.”
“Won—won—won, my lad?” said the agent, with loud, louder, loudest in his utterance of the word. “I’ve lost; I’m nearly ruined. Oh, it has been a horrible day. Here, I’m ill. I must have a little brandy, I’m ready to faint.”
“Sorry for you, sir,” said Mark, as the ghastly-looking man turned to go back across the hall.
“Same here, sir,” said Jane, with a grave curtsey; “but I don’t see as it’ll do you any good now you’re ruined to try and ruin us.”
“And if I was you, sir, I wouldn’t touch another drop, sir,” put in Mark. “I’ve seen chaps in your state before after a race—chaps who have lost every penny—go and fly to the drink.”
Trimmer gazed vacantly at the speaker, passed his tongue over his parched lips, and said feebly—
“Do I—do I look as if I had been drinking, Mark?”