"I found myself at Southend, the place where the mud is, you know, and having nothing to do one afternoon—did you speak, sir?" as his host muttered something sotto voce about Satan and idle hands, and Carlton at once decided to inflict on the spoil-sport Professor, the punishment of hearing the whole story to the bitter end. He was rewarded by a delighted gleam in Gay's eye, as he imperturbably proceeded.
"I heard some Trotting races were on, and thought I'd go and see them. While watching the toilet of a horse about to run—or trot, a horsey-looking individual spoke to me, and though I had never set eyes on him before, he appeared to know me perfectly."
The Professor coughed. If ever a cough said "birds of a feather," his did then, but Carlton ignored it.
"'Good-day, Mr. Mackrell,' said the unknown, pulling his cap, 'and what might you be doin' at this game?' I liked the look of the old chap, somehow—he was fairly long in the tooth, I must tell you—so I explained that having nothing to do, I had come to see the Trotting. 'I think,' said my unknown, 'as I can do you a bit o' good 'ere this afternoon. There's a 'orse goin' to be sold after the second race to-day—owner's taken the merry rat-tat, you see, sir—an' if you can get 'im for anything below seventy quid, buy 'im. I've been Trottin' an' drivin' 'em a good many years now, an' I know all about this 'orse. 'E's sound in wind an' limb, an' money wouldn't buy 'im if it wasn't a case of couldn't 'elp it, 'ad to.'"
Gay laughed, highly amused. "Well?" she said, while the Professor, with the air of a god in the clouds, who leans over to observe the absurd antics of the human ants below, resignedly helped himself to more salad.
"Of course," Carlton continued, "I recognised 'the tale' when I heard it, and naturally supposed my new-found friend had an axe to grind, but his next remark disabused my mind."
"'I shan't get nothin' out o' the deal, guv'nor,' he said. 'You'll pay yer brass straight over to the auctioneer, an' I don't suppose 'e'll give me anything if you buy the 'orse, any more than if anyone else did—an' somebody will if you don't watch it, though there ain't much money 'ere to-day,' looking at the crowd disparagingly. 'This 'orse is in the last race, the open, with thirty-five quid to the winner, an' 'e can win it too, off the mark 'e's got to-day.'
"Well, to cut a long story short," Mackrell went on, dexterously combining enjoyment of a good dinner with his recital, "I did buy the horse for sixty-five guineas, and there I was, landed with probably a bad bargain—though I liked the make and shape of him, mind you, but with no earthly idea what to do with him."
"Marry in haste, repent at leisure," said the Professor. "I mean——" But Carlton did not stop to inquire what the Professor meant, only Gay realised that the "conversion" she had hoped for was far away.
"Well, my unknown again came to the rescue.