"I did not know that you were a racing man. Allow me to introduce you to Sir Gerald Mason." Mr. Major was conscious that a resplendent middle-aged gentleman was acting as the lady's escort.
"Are you alone?"
Mr. Major explained, stammeringly, that he was. Half unconsciously, he fell in by the lady's side. The three threaded their way among the crowd. They reached a drag.
"I daresay we can find a place for you, if it's only standing room."
Presently Mr. Major found himself, with other ladies and gentlemen, on top of a four-in-hand.
"Well, have you won?" inquired Miss Davidson, who seemed to have taken him under her wing.
"Yes," There was a choking in the artist's throat "Nearly thirty thousand pounds."
"What!"
The artist found himself greeted with a general stare.
"Nearly thirty thousand pounds."
"To-day?"
"Yes, all of it to-day."
Sir Gerald Mason seemed to be particularly struck.
"That's a tidy little trifle," he observed.
Another gentleman came clambering on to the roof.
"I can't make it out. There's something up. Just now they were laying anything against Devil's Own. Now they want three to one on."
"I expect," said Mr. Major, "it's because of me."
"Because of you?" The new-comer stared.
