he explained when he returned to the drag. "I've only got evens."
"It's a robbery," declared the elderly Sir Gerald; "rank robbery!"
"Rather too barefaced robbery for me." Thus Mr. Wilmot, which was the name of the gentleman who had clambered last on to the drag. "I don't think this time your friend has done you a good turn, Mr. Major. From her form Estrella hasn't the ghost of a chance. Personally, I should say the odds against her were more than forty to one."
"By Jove!" exclaimed a ruddy-faced young gentleman, with a "pane of glass" in his eye, "I hope she will win! I've a monkey on her!"
"Not to mention my five pounds," laughed Miss Davidson.
"Your money is quite safe. Estrella will win—I know it"
"Excuse me, Mr. Major," said Mr. Wilmot, "but your tone would almost suggest that you had been getting at somebody or something on a very extensive scale. You seem cock-sure."
"I am cock-sure."
"They're off!"
They were. Mr. Wilmot's glasses followed the race.
"A capital start. Bedgown's leading—Canute second. Hollo! The Squire's coming. Estrella's nowhere. The Squire's in front! What's that slipped through—Patience? Patience is coming! Come on, Patience; The Squire is racing her! Where's your Estrella, Mr. Major? She don't seem to be in this race. Patience is ahead! Bravo,
