"And now," exclaimed the baronet, "before we put up our books, I'll give you another chance. Will you take three hundred to one that the favourites for the fight and the Derby don't both win?"
"Stop, Sir Rupert!" cried Chichester. "Let me first see how I stand for the Derby:"—then, as if speaking to himself, he continued, "Taken even five hundred, four horses against the field, from Lord Dunstable;—seven hundred to one against Eagle-wing, from the Honourable Colonel Cholmondeley;—betted even five hundred, Skyscraper to Moonraker, with the Honourable Augustus Smicksmack. Well, Sir Rupert," he exclaimed, raising his head from the contemplation of the leaf on which these sham bets were entered, "I don't mind if I take you."
"It's a bargain," said the baronet; and the wager was accordingly inscribed in the little books.
The two gentlemen then refreshed themselves each with another draught of champagne; and Sir Rupert Harborough, as he drank, glanced over the edge of the glass into the next box, to ascertain the effect produced upon Mr. Egerton by the previous little display of sporting spirit.
That effect was precisely the one which had been anticipated. Mr. Egerton was not so tipsy but that he was struck with the aristocratic names of the two gentlemen in the next box; and he raised his head from the bosom of a Cyprian to take a view of Sir Rupert Harborough, Bart., and the Honourable Arthur Chichester.
So satisfactory was the result of the survey—at least to himself—that he determined not only to show off a little of his own "dashing spirit," but also, if possible, form the acquaintance of the two gentlemen; for, like many young fellows similarly circumstanced, he was foolish enough to believe that the possession of money must prove a passport to the best society, if he could only obtain an opening.
Therefore, having greedily devoured every word of the dialogue just detailed, and taking it for granted that nothing in this world was ever more sincere than the betting of Sir Rupert Harborough, Bart., and the Honourable Arthur Chichester, Mr. Egerton exclaimed, "Beg pardon, gentlemen, for intruding upon you; but I think I heard you staking some heavy sums on the coming fight?"
"Really, sir," said the baronet, gravely, "I was not aware that any thing which took place between me and this gentleman could be overheard;—and yet, after all," he added with a gracious smile, "I do not know that there is the least harm in a little quiet bet."
"Harm, no—and be damned to it!" ejaculated Mr. Egerton. "All I can say is, that I admire sporting men—I honour them: they're an ornament to the country. What would Old England—hic—be without her Turf—her hunting—her prize-fighting? For my part, I have a great idea of this fight—a very great—hic—idea. But I back the Birmingham Bruiser—I do."
"So do I, sir," answered the baronet "My friend here, however—the Honourable Mr. Chichester—fancies the Haggerstone Pet."