CHAPTER VI.
A HEAD DEFEAT; AN ATTEMPT TO WIN THE CAMBRIDGESHIRE.
The great trial— the lightweight apportioned by the Admiral—the heavy commission successfully worked—newspaper reports about the horse—his short price in the betting—the sudden unaccountable opposition to him—a young lady discloses the plot—the Jew outwitted, and obliged to give up the scratching order—standing to win a fortune to nothing—a very reliable partner.
No, my inquisitive friend, a pair of blue eyes did not occasion the difficulty; on the contrary, my partner and myself would have been ruined if a certain young lady had not given information which enabled me to circumvent the schemes of the enemy, who, I may tell you, was a Jew. The circumstances caused a sensation at the time, and a number of the men who overlaid their books in the belief that the horse would never go to the post would not have "weighed in" for that, to me, memorable Cambridgeshire, provided we had run first instead of second.
It all came about in this way.
Picture to yourself two men seated, after dinner, in an old-fashioned hotel of quaint, sleepy Hampshire town. The elder of the two was my partner, and the other your humble servant. We were anxiously waiting the arrival of a telegram of the utmost importance to us. If favourable, an immense fortune was within our grasp.
This message was to contain the weight of a horse for the Cambridgeshire. In the morning we had roughed up the team, and a four-year-old had opened our eyes to his merits by simply cantering away from some good trying tackle. For many years we had vainly striven to pull off a large race, but mishaps were sure to crop up at the wrong time. It now depended upon the judgment of Admiral Rous whether we were going to land the big stake at last.
To pass the time we amused ourselves by writing the horse's probable weight on slips of paper—which were to be kept folded up till the telegram came—and betting about them. Instead of arriving at the hour expected, the message was very late; it had been delayed owing to a disarrangement of the wires, caused by a thunderstorm. When the all-important missive did reach us we were more than satisfied. The four-year-old was weighted at 6st. 7lb. If I mistake not, we drank long life to the Admiral in an extra bottle of Irroy. Fortune's wheel was, we thought, about to turn in our favour, and our long suffering patience was at length to be rewarded. One of us talked philosophically, as if he had foreseen this splendid chance, and, shaking his head with an air of wisdom, muttered: "I told you so; everything comes to the man who waits."
It was, however, a long time to Cambridgeshire day, but that weighty consideration, the impost, was all right. The horse must now be carefully looked after, and got to the post fit and well. As regards the betting, we arranged to secure all the long prices, 100 and 66 to 1, without being suspected, and had an arrangement how much we were each to stand to win. As may be easily imagined, we had pleasant dreams that night of gorgeous establishments and endless parcels of Bank of England notes.