gate Stakes; sent 'em to every one of my correspondents, I did, upon my Dick! Why, Mr. Major, I've been a tipster—ah, I don't know how many years—and as for placing the first three, even at a donkey race, why, I haven't come within a million mile of 'em." Mr. Gill glanced round. There was something curious in his glance. "But it isn't only horses. There's something up with me all round. Why"
He caught Mr. Major by the arm. They were by the pit entrance to the Lyceum Theatre. A hansom went rushing by.
"There's an old gentleman with a white hat crossing Wellington Street—that cab will knock him down!"
The cab whirled round the corner. An instant after there was a sudden tumult—someone had been run over. Mr. Major stared at Mr. Gill.
"I say, Gill!"
"I've been like that for the last day or two, but this afternoon I'm worse than ever. I keep seeing things."
"Excuse me, sir." Mr. Gill stopped and addressed a passer-by. "Your wife's just going to slip down the steps which lead to the nursery landing; and as she's in a delicate situation, if I was you I'd hurry home."
The passenger, a dignified-looking gentleman about forty years of age, appeared to be, not unnaturally, surprised at being addressed in such a manner by a perfect stranger.
"Who are you?"
"My name's Gill, sir—Thompson Gill. As your
