‘Curse him!’ he muttered, as he came back trying to look pleased. ‘What d’yer want to do, my lord?’ he said, with a ghastly smile.
Mentioning a horse, the haughty young aristocrat asked what he would lay against it.
‘Against it?’ said the welcher. ‘Well, it ain’t usual for us to lay against ’em; but I’ll give yer 4 to 2.’
‘Very well,’ wearily replied the marquis; ‘in half millions. I also want to back it for a lady, in gloves.’
‘Wery good, my lord; dogskin or kid?’
This of course could only be meant for insult. The peer looked at him half amused, half disgusted, and walked listlessly away.
The welcher scowled after him with bitter hatred; but just then the bell rang, and he hurried off to see the horses and jockeys weighed. When he arrived at the shed he found all ready but one, the jockey who was to ride the horse he had laid against. He was just sitting down to dinner.
‘They’re waiting for you,’ said a steward, rushing into the room.
‘Ask them to wait a little longer; I shall be ready in forty minutes,’ said the jockey, taking a spoonful of potage à la Tortue.
The steward rushed out somewhat excitedly.