He then threw.
"Six to nine!" exclaimed the groom-porter.
"Five to four in favour of the caster," observed Colonel Cholmondeley.
"I'll bet the odds," cried Egerton.
"'Gainst the rules, sir," said the pompous groom-porter: "you're not a setter this time."
"Pooh, pooh!" cried Crockford, affecting a jocular chuckle. "The gentleman has lost—let the gentleman have a chance of recovering his-self. Take the hodds of the gentleman."
"Then I bet five hundred to four in favour of the caster," said Egerton, now growing interested in the play as he began to understand it better.
Sir Rupert threw a few times, and at last turned up six and three.
"Nine—six, trois—out!" cried the groom-porter.