All at once the crowd surged away. A shout filled the air, "They're off!" and Mr. Welsh jumped from his perch.
"Now," said Mr. Welsh, "I'm off wid me friend Lazarus to see the clerk of the course. Here's the bagful of money for you to keep; and, mind, we thrust you. We'll be back in two minits. You stick here, and wait for us."
Next moment, he and the Israelite had vanished, leaving the luckless Giveen, bag in hand, standing by the tub.
"They're off!" These words often include in their meaning bipeds as well as quadrupeds on City and Suburban day.
Giveen, with the bag in his hand, was torn by conflicting emotions. Suppose Paddy Welsh and Mr. Lazarus could not find him again because of the crowd? Then what would he do with the money in the bag? Faith, what else but take it back to London, and as he was off to Ireland next day, what else could he do but take the bag with him?
His mind played with Cupidity and Theft as a puppy plays with its mates. He would not steal the money, but he would stick to it if the others, by any chance, missed him. And he determined to give them every chance of so doing. He would wait a decent time—say, two or three minutes—after the race was over, and then wander back to the station. Besides, there was ten pounds due to him. Paddy had promised him ten pounds anyway.
Engaged in these thoughts, he scarcely heard the shouting around him as the horses were sweeping round Tattenham Corner.
The desire to look at the money in the bag now came on him irresistibly, and, opening the clasp, he peeped in.
Pebbles and pieces of brick met his gaze and confounded him.