“Oh, I beg pardon, I had forgotten the date.”
“Well, Stranleigh, I’ve got it straight that Flying Scud will romp in a winner. It’s a sure thing. Don’t you give it away, but act on the hint, and you won’t be sorry. Odds are twenty-five to one at the present moment, and for every blooming quid you put up, you’ll get a pony.”
“That’s very attractive, Billy.”
“Attractive? Why, it’s simply found money.”
“Ah, well, such chances are not for me, Billy. I’ve had to pawn my evening togs in order to get a sandwich and a glass of beer. I’m a hornyhanded son of toil trying to pick up an honest living. Why don’t you follow my example, Billy, and do something useful? This deplorable habit of betting on the races will lead you into financial straits by and by, and what is worse, the gambling fever may become chronic if you don’t check it in time.”
Sir William Grainger laughed joyously at this. He was a young man who had already run through a large patrimony left him by his father, and since that time had developed a genius for borrowing which would have done credit to Harriman, the railway king.
“Come, Stranleigh, don’t preach, or at least, if you do preach, don’t hedge. You know what I want. Lend me a pony till next Monday, there’s a good fellow. That sum will bring me in six hundred and twenty-five pounds before to-morrow night. I’ve figured it all out on a sheet of club paper, but I’m stony broke, so fork over the twenty-five, Stranleigh.”
Lord Stranleigh, without demur, took from his pocketbook some Bank of England notes of ten pounds each, selected three of them, and passed them on to Sir William, who thus getting five pounds more than he had asked for, lovingly fingered the tenacious, crisp pieces of paper, then put forward a bluff of getting one of them changed, that he might return the extra money.
“Oh, don’t trouble about that,” said Stranleigh, somewhat wearily. He had had a tiring day at Southampton, and beer and sandwiches were not a very inspiring meal at the end of it. “Don’t trouble about that. If you take another sheet of club paper, you may be able to calculate how much more the extra five pounds will bring you in to-morrow night.”
“By Jove, that’s true,” said Sir William, much relieved, and then the ease with which he had made the haul seemed to stir up his covetousness and still further submerge all self-respect.