Dangerous Dilemmas: Startling but True

by James Anderson Peddie

To the great grief of all his friends he became careless in his habits, and took to drink. He was expostulated with time after time, but in vain. Nothing I could say would rouse him, and to all intents and purposes he seemed a lost man—a ship at sea without a rudder.

The bill on which I figured as the drawer had nearly run its course, and how it was to be met I had not the vaguest notion. There was no chance of a renewal. A proposition to that effect which I made the holder was rejected at once. Rumours as to my unfortunate friend's dissipated habits had got about, and people had no longer any confidence in him. It was well known that I had no private sources of income. With ruin staring me in the face you may rest assured I was not inclined to bless Mrs. Selby.

Brought up in a district where innumerable racehorses are reared and trained, it was natural that I should take an interest in the turf, but when I wanted them most to be fortunate my speculations all at once ceased to be remunerative. The Derby had upset all my calculations—a second-class animal found the course to his liking, and beat all the favourites—and I looked forward to Ascot to get back my money with interest. Still as my investments were necessarily of a trifling amount I had no idea of winning sufficient to take up the obnoxious bill which was due immediately after Ascot. It so happened that my annual holidays fell at Ascot time, and I made up my mind to a week's racing if the funds held out. If at all lucky I might get a hundred, and I thought that this sum would tempt the Jew to renew the bill. In another three months there was no telling what would happen. I saw that it was no good relying on Drummond to find the five hundred, or any portion of it, and he had made unsuccessful applications to all his relations. I was very sorry for him, but his friendship was likely to prove rather costly. The poor follow was a pitiful sight to see. Every hope of his life and his pride had been blasted by that woman, and inattention to his duties at last compelled him to resign his post.

I see him regularly once a year, but there is no improvement in his condition. On the contrary, the wreck is beginning to break up, and I fear that soon his place on earth will be vacant. An uncle allows him two pounds a week so long as he remains at Boulogne.

To "Royal Ascot," as it was called by the sporting prophets, I went, determined to do my best to defeat the layers of odds. A careful study of the programme made me fancy I could name a few winners.

Entering the course on Hunt Cup day, I was addressed by a miserable looking object, who informed me that he was the brother of a famous jockey. He knew, he said, a certainty for the principal race. Not believing for a moment that he had any reliable information, I threw the half-starved wretch a shilling, and was walking away when he ran after me and gave me a scrap of paper.

In a popular play, derived of course from French sources, it is seen of what great importance a few words of writing may become. The strip of paper handed to me by the Newmarket tout, and which I carelessly put into my waistcoat pocket without reading it, was destined to save me from a grave difficulty; and dirty as it is, it will always have a prominent place in my album.

Over the previous events I had varying luck, and when the numbers went up for the prettiest race of the year, I had won altogether twenty-five pounds, so I resolved to give myself a chance.