Prince Charlie during the past twenty-four hours had been a little shaky in the betting, and from being firm at 2 to 1, 5 to 2 was at the moment being laid, and was to be had to any amount.
Entering the Rooms about midnight the air resounded with “5 to 2 against,” as, cautiously approaching the then leviathan of the Turf, Tommy inquired: “What price Prince Charlie?” “I’ll lay you 1000 to 400, Captain,” was the reply, and the bet being duly booked, he continued: “And now you can have 3 monkeys to 1 if you like.” “Put it down,” replied Tommy, who although exceeding his commission decided that what was good enough for Forbes-Bentley was good enough for him.
But barely had he left the bookie when up came T. V. Morgan, who had a score of horses with Joe Dawson, and inquired what he had been doing.
“Your horse is not going well in the betting, old man. I’ve just taken 3 monkeys to 1,” was the reply.
“My —, there must be something wrong!” he gasped. “I’ll go at once to Joe,” and without waiting a moment, he disappeared on his midnight mission.
Knocking up Joe Dawson, who had long retired to rest, the two proceeded to the stable, where it was found that the first favourite’s near fore leg was inflamed, with every indication of a swelling.
“By —, Morgan!” exclaimed the trainer, “this is d— serious; the horse has been got at, and may be again; we mustn’t stir from here for the remainder of the night.” And so the two kept vigil alternately till the saddling bell rang next afternoon. The head stable lad meanwhile and certain helpers were not admitted into the stable, and peremptorily discharged in the morning, and bonnie Prince Charlie won the Two Thousand fairly easily. But during the race there was a critical moment as the horses entered the Dip and his jockey was seen to move in the saddle. “A thousand to a carrot against Prince Charlie!” was now shouted by a hundred stentorian voices, but the shouts were happily short-lived, as the grand old roarer shot out of the crowd and won with apparent ease.
Joe Dawson and his colleague Morgan meanwhile were inundated with congratulations, and when Joe recounted the marvellous escape the good old horse had had, the congratulations were not unaccompanied by fervent hopes that the delinquents might yet be discovered and lynched.
On the authority of the late Joe Dawson it may be accepted that what occurred was of the simplest but most effective nature, and comes briefly to this: “That the fittest horse if gently tapped with a piece of wood on the back sinew will become dead lame, and leave no trace of the nobbling.”
But what led to the discovery appears more marvellous. If Forbes-Bentley had not commissioned Tommy to get his money on, and if Morgan had not casually asked what he was doing, the fact of Prince Charlie’s unpopularity might never have been brought home to the former; Joe Dawson might have continued in his undisturbed slumber, and Prince Charlie at daylight would have been found to be hopelessly lame.