"Betting."
"But he doesn't go to many races, and turf accountants wouldn't deal with a boy under age."
"Verra true," Mackellar agreed dryly. "Dick would get somebody else to put the money on for him—or at least that's no doubt what he thought he did. Williamson, or one o' his friends, would be willing."
"Why do you say it's what Dick thought?"
"I have my doubts whether his go-between made the bets at all. Where was the need? The fellow had only to take the money when Dick lost."
"But Dick's not a fool! He wouldn't back the wrong horse every time. He reads the sporting papers and I suppose their forecasts are right now and then."
Mackellar smiled.
"If he's no' a fool, he's near it. A tip anybody can buy for a penny is no' of much account; but it's flattering to feel ye ken the secrets o' the inside ring. Staffer's friends would see he had that satisfaction. In other words, they'd tell him how he ought to bet with them, and, although they'd let him win at times, I imagine they found it a profitable game."
"It must be stopped!" said Andrew.
"Just so; but ye would prefer it to be stopped quietly. There's another thing I learned, and ye put me on the track when ye told me what Dick said about his being insured. A policy has been taken out for a large sum."