"If I live to be five hundred," said the emotional French, "I'll never forget this to you."
"Rubbish!" said Bobby. "It was nothing. I—I enjoyed it—at least, part of it. Anyhow, I'd do it over again to-morrow for the excitement of the thing."
"I think," said Miss Grimshaw, speaking as though she were criticising some work of art, "that the finest part of the whole thing was your determination to run into the cart at full speed and smash it up. I suppose it was wicked, but it was fine!"
"See here," said Mr. Dashwood, anxious to turn away praise from himself, "what we have to think of now is Giveen. What's to-day? The 10th, isn't it? Well, he'll see that man Lewis to-day, as sure as nuts."
"If he does," said French, "Lewis will have a bailiff here to-morrow, and I'll be done for."
"I'm not so sure of that," said Mr. Dashwood.
"How do you mean?"
"I've been thinking the thing out on the way down. If he puts a bailiff in, let's corrupt the bailiff."
"Sure, I've got nothing to corrupt him with," said French. "Money's the only thing to corrupt a man with, and I haven't any."
"We might offer him a percentage of the profits if he'll just shut his eyes and let us take the horse to Epsom," said Mr. Dashwood. "We don't want to run away with the horse. We only want a loan of him for the race."