"You would give up betting then?"
"I'd give up backing 'orses, if you mean that…. What I should like would be to get on to a dozen good things at long prices—half-a-dozen like Silver Braid would do it. For a thousand or fifteen hundred pounds I could have the 'Red Lion,' and just inside my own bar I could do a hundred-pound book on all the big races."
Esther listened, hearing interminable references to jockeys, publicans, weights, odds, and the certainty, if he had the "Red Lion," of being able to get all Joe Walker's betting business away from him. Allusions to the police, and the care that must be taken not to bet with anyone who had not been properly introduced, frightened her; but her fears died in the sensation of his arm about her waist, and the music that the striking of a match had put to flight had begun again in the next plantation, and it began again in their hearts. But if he were going to marry Sarah! The idea amused him; he laughed loudly, and they walked up the avenue, his face bent over hers.
VII
The Barfield calculation was that they had a stone in hand. Bayleaf, Mr. Leopold argued, would be backed to win a million of money if he were handicapped in the race at seven stone; and Silver Braid, who had been tried again with Bayleaf, and with the same result as before, had been let off with only six stone.
More rain had fallen, the hay-crop had been irretrievably ruined, the prospects of the wheat harvest were jeopardized, but what did a few bushels of wheat matter? Another pound of muscle in those superb hind-quarters was worth all the corn that could be grown between here and Henfield. Let the rain come down, let every ear of wheat be destroyed, so long as those delicate fore-legs remained sound. These were the ethics that obtained at Woodview, and within the last few days showed signs of adoption by the little town and not a few of the farmers, grown tired of seeing their crops rotting on the hill-sides. The fever of the gamble was in eruption, breaking out in unexpected places—the station-master, the porters, the flymen, all had their bit on, and notwithstanding the enormous favouritism of two other horses in the race—Prisoner and Stoke Newington—Silver Braid had advanced considerably in the betting. Reports of trials won had reached Brighton, and not more than five-and-twenty to one could now be obtained.
The discovery that the Demon had gone up several pounds in weight had introduced the necessary alloy into the mintage of their happiness; the most real consternation prevailed, and the strictest investigation was made as to when and how he had obtained the quantities of food required to produce such a mass of adipose tissue. Then the Gaffer had the boy upstairs and administered to him a huge dose of salts, seeing him swallow every drop; and when the effects of the medicine had worn off he was sent for a walk to Portslade in two large overcoats, and was accompanied by William, whose long legs led the way so effectively. On his return a couple of nice feather beds were ready, and Mr. Leopold and Mr. Swindles themselves laid him between them, and when they noticed that he was beginning to cease to perspire Mr. Leopold made him a nice cup of hot tea.
"That's the way the Gaffer used to get the flesh off in the old days when he rode the winner at Liverpool."
"It's the Demon's own fault," said Mr. Swindles; "if he hadn't been so greedy he wouldn't have had to sweat, and we should 'ave been spared a deal of bother and anxiety."
"Greedy!" murmured the little boy, in whom the warm tea had induced a new perspiration; "I haven't had what you might call a dinner for the last three months. I think I'll chuck the whole thing."