Fenn—But what is the notion? We must raise money somehow!
Bathurst—How? Where? If that brute of a horse had only won to-day we would have been all right.
Fenn—Can't we go to that tobacconist's shop and have a game of Napoleon?
Bathurst—No; the last time we met in his back shop the police heard the row between Brown and that fool Peter, and he don't intend to risk it again—at least for the present. There is more to be made at pool in Beak-street if one had only a little luck.
Fenn—Yes, the marker is all right; but some of the players were inclined to make remarks.
Bathurst—That must be risked. Here, take the money; your luck is better than mine. If you can manage to net two or three sovereigns, I see my way to hundreds!
Fenn—But you have not told me your idea. Is it a secret? Perhaps it requires registration.
Bathurst—You won't be so cheeky when you find the stamps come rolling in.
Fenn—Oh! it is a case of stamps, is it? I suppose some recipe for restoring beautiful hair to the baldest heads, or creating an aversion to drink, or perhaps a plan as to how to make a fortune out of baked potatoes!