“Do you think my joining the ministry would be a good cause?”
“Nothing could be more worthy, and I take such an interest in your pious wish, that I will go further. If Bertha should happen to lose the Cup, which, of course, she is likely to, with so many horses running, I shall be so pleased that I will give you that £200, and, perhaps, a little more, if required for your studies. For I love to help young men, Christian young men, of course.”
Jack Butt surveyed his companion with a certain doubt. Though not a smart lad, he had not been several years at Randwick for nothing. This was very much like an offer to pull the horse, and that would be wicked. But he reflected, would it not be more wicked to aid this Freethinker in his horrible design? Had he not frequently pulled horses by the order of his master, and might he not pull one for such a good cause as his own entrance into the ministry? His mother would be so pleased, and he could eat what he liked. But a cautious scruple of prudence occurred to him.
“Would you mind putting that in writing, sir? Of course, as a Holy Brother, I trust you, but while it’s not in writing I can hardly believe it.”
“I will do more than that,” said Huey. “I will give you a post-dated cheque—that is, a cheque dated for payment after the race, and should the horse lose you can cash it, and should it win it might be stopped. At any rate, I could not do so much for you, but depend on me, I shall always take an interest in you. There are too few young men with your good sense.”
CHAPTER XVIII
THE NIGHT BEFORE THE RACE
The Golden Bar looked brighter, more burnished, more glorified than usual. The gilt mouldings and inlaid work on the walls shone with added splendour. The yellow statuettes beamed down from their brackets like old-time graven images, and on every hand vast mirrors of bevelled glass reflected and re-reflected the well-dressed habitués, the bar and shelves of sparkling bottles and gleaming decanters, and, above all, the graceful and trim forms of those twin goddesses of this spiritual fount, Ruby and Florrie.
As drinks were for the nonce only casually called for, and Bertha was away at tea, the moment was a precious one. They could have a nice long talk.
“Did you hear the news, Ruby?”
“No; is it about the Cup?”