"Go to the devil."
Mr. Stillbottle, utterly dazed, raised his head and surveyed the company. Then he smiled apologetically.
"Wrong entrance," he observed. "My error! Exit hastily!"
He turned, and shuffled out.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE REAL MR. WELWYN
"There is an evenin' paper--"
quavered Mr. Stillbottle blithely, with his feet upon the kitchen hob,--
--"which is published in the mornin'!
Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, little Star!"
He unfolded the early edition of the organ in question and devoted himself to a laboured perusal of the list of probable starters for the Lincolnshire Handicap, now looming in the immediate future; for he was anxious to ascertain whether his premonitions as to the identity of the winner coincided with those of the prophet retained by the management. Apparently they did; for presently the paper was laid aside with a contented sigh, and the student of form resumed the hoary lay which anxiety connected with the investment of his newly acquired capital had caused him momentarily to abandon.