“Did I? Ah, I dare say! Never mind. Very kind of a young gentleman like you to come and see the likes of me. What’ll you take?”
Loman did not know what to make of this at all.
“I came to see you about that—that horse you told me to bet against,” he said.
“I remember. What’s his name? Sir Patrick, wasn’t it? My friend told me that he’d had the best of that. What was it? Ten bob?”
This affected ignorance of the whole matter in hand was utterly bewildering to Loman, who had fully expected that, instead of having to explain himself, he would have the matter pretty plainly explained to him by his sportive acquaintance.
“No, ten pounds. That was what I was to pay if the horse won; and, Cripps, I can’t pay it, or the twenty pounds either, to you.”
Cripps whistled.
“That’s a go and no mistake!” he said. “Afraid it won’t do, mister.”
“You told me Sir Patrick was sure not to win,” said Loman.
“Ah, there was several of us took in over that there horse,” coolly said Mr Cripps. “I lost a shilling myself over him. Nice to be you, flush of cash, and able to pay straight down.”