“Of course. I tell you I always trusted him.”
“But not with a bottle, Hilt.”
“Eh? No; drink was his only weakness.”
“That’s right; and I believe Sam Simpkins—the old villain!—has been at him that way to get him so that he can’t ride.”
“What!”
“The miserable wretch is down with D.T.—in an awful state, and the local demon can’t allay the spirit. To make matters worse, Jack Granton, who might have helped me, can’t be found.”
“Jack was here just now. Gone on to the course.”
“What! Oh, joy! No, no; it’s no use. Too late. Nobody could make poor Josh fit to ride to-day.”
“But this is diabolical.”
“Oh, it’s ten times worse than that, Hilty, old man. I had such trust in the mare that I’m on her for nearly every shilling I possess. If she doesn’t win I’m a ruined woman.”