"Then I went to cherchay a bookie, but I couldn't find one anywheres.
"'They don't 'ave 'em 'ere,' says Nigger. 'You invests at the sheds over there—the Paree Mutual.'
"'That's an insurance company,' answers I. 'I want to put a bit on, not take out a life policy.'
"'That's the place, I tells you,' says Nigger; 'the Paree Mutual or the Total Liza. If you don't 'urry you won't get it on before the race starts.'
"So I fights my way through the surging mob to the counter.
"'What odds for Red Liz in the five-thirty?' says I.
"'Je ne comprong pas,' says the bet merchant, and before I could say another word the crowd swept me away. I went back to Nigger.
"'Look 'ere, Nigger,' says I indignantly, 'I don't like this way. I likes to speckerlate with a bookie—one with a wooden leg as can't run for preference—who tells you what odds 'e's going to give an' doesn't 'ave to work it out in vulgar fractions afterwards.'
"'You 'eart-breaking turnip!' says Nigger; 'give me the money.'
"'E came back in a few minutes with a bit o' card that looked like a pawn-ticket.