Although the last race on the programme had yet to be run the railway
station that adjoined the course was already packed to discomfort with
the crowd of those who had left early in order to avoid each other. When
the train that had been waiting drew alongside the platform there was a
considerable bustle; but the individual whom (from his costume and
general appearance) I will call the Complete Sportsman was nimble enough
to secure a corner seat in a compartment that was immediately filled. A
couple of quiet-looking elderly men, wearing hard hats and
field-glasses, took the corners on the far side and began to discuss
the day's events in undertones. They were followed by a stout red-faced
gentleman in a suit of pronounced check, a curate (at sight of whom the
Complete Sportsman elevated his eyebrows) and a hatchet-nosed individual
in gaiters who looked like a vet.
As the train started, Red-face, catching the eye of the Complete
Sportsman, smiled genially. "Nice bit o' sport to-day, guv'nor," he
observed.
The person thus addressed agreed, a little nervously.
"And why shouldn't we keep it up?" continued the other. He gazed round
upon the company at large. "If so be as no gentleman here has any
objection to winning a bit more."
Since no one offered any protest it appeared that no such prejudice
existed. Red-face, diving into the pocket of his check coat, produced
cards and a folding board. "Then here goes!" said he. "Who's the Lady
and Find the Woman. Half-a-quid on it every time against any gent as
chooses to back his fancy!"
With an air of benevolent detachment he began to shuffle three of the
cards face downwards upon the board. Still no one appeared willing to
tempt fortune. The two quiet men in the far corner, after a hasty and
somewhat contemptuous glance at Red-face's proceedings, had resumed
their talk and took no further heed of him.
The cards, fell, slid, were turned up and slid again under his nimble
lingers. "In the centre--and there she is!"--showing the queen. "Now on
the left, quite correct. Once more, this time on the ri--no, Sir, as you
say, left again. Pity for you we weren't betting on that round!"
This was to the hatchet-nosed man who (as though involuntarily) had
pointed out an obvious defect in the manipulations. Seeming to be
encouraged by this initial success, he bent forward with sudden
interest. "Don't mind if I do have half-a-quid on it just once," he
said.
It certainly seemed as though the Red-faced man must be actuated by
motives of philanthropy. Quite a considerable number of times did
Hatchet-nose back his fancy, and almost always with success. The result
was that perhaps ten or a dozen sovereigns were transferred to his
pockets from those of the bank. Even the curate was spurred by the sight
into taking a part--though he was only fortunate enough to find the
queen on three occasions out of five.
It was apparently this last circumstance, and the ease with which he
himself could have pointed out the errors of the reverend gentleman,
that finally overcame the reluctance of the Complete Sportsman. He
blushed, hesitated, then began to feel in his waistcoat pocket.
"It looks easy enough," he ventured dubiously.
"Easy as winkin'," said the red-faced man. "At least to the gents' in
this carriage. Begin to wish I hadn't proposed it."
However, he didn't show any signs of abandoning his amiable pursuit; not
even when the Complete Sportsman, having assiduously searched all his
pockets, produced a leather wallet and extracted thence a couple of
notes.
"I'm afraid that I haven't got any change," he said in rather a
disappointed tone.
"Perhaps," suggested the card-manipulator, "this gentleman could oblige
you."
It being obvious that Hatchet-nose, the gentleman in question, was fully
able to do this out of his recent winnings, he had, of course, no excuse
for hesitation. The two five-pound notes changed hands; and the
Sportsman pocketed twenty half-sovereigns.
Then he turned towards the cards with alacrity. The quiet couple in the
corner had not been wholly unmindful of these proceedings. The slightest
glance of amused and derisory intelligence passed between them as the
Complete Sportsman plunged into the game.
For the first two attempts he was successful. No sooner, however, did he
settle to serious play, beaming with triumph at his good fortune, than
it unaccountably deserted him. He lost the two half-sovereigns that he
had just won, and then another and another; till in the event he found
himself no less than four-pounds-ten out of pocket.
"I--I seem somehow to have lost the knack of it," he said, glancing
round at the company with an air almost of apology.
Red-face was loud in his commiseration and encouragements to proceed.
"Luck's bound to turn," he protested.
The Complete Sportsman, however, seemed to have had enough. No amount of
persuasion could induce him to tempt fortune further, though, to do him
justice, he appeared to take his rebuff in a philosophic spirit.
Desisting at length from his good-humoured attempts, the proprietor of
the cards and board replaced them in his pocket and lit a cigar.
"Ah, well, somebody's got to lose, I suppose," he said tolerantly,
adding, as the train slackened speed, "By Jove, Vauxhall already! I get
out here. So long, all!"
He was on the platform immediately. By a coincidence as surprising as
pleasant it appeared that Hatchet-nose and the curate were also
alighting. The three walked away together; and the Complete Sportsman
was left to share with the quiet couple a compartment in which there was
now ample room to stretch his fawn-coloured limbs.
He did so with a sigh of relief, leaning back and smiling gently to
himself as the train glided forward upon its final stage. His recent
misfortune appeared to trouble him not at all; indeed, as Waterloo was
approached, the smile grew if anything more pronounced. He might have
been thinking about some subject that amused him greatly.
Presently, turning towards his companions, he found the gaze of both the
quiet men fixed upon him with a look of somewhat derisive compassion. It
was apparent that the ease with which the Sportsman had been tempted
into parting with his money had excited at once their pity and their
contempt. For a time he endured this regard in uneasy silence. Then, as
the preliminary jar of the brakes heralded Waterloo, he spoke.
"I perceive, gentlemen," said he, "that you are apparently labouring
under a delusion with regard to my part in the transactions that you
have just witnessed."
"I was wondering," returned the first of the quiet men, "how anyone
could in these days be gulled by so transparent a set of rogues."
"Your wonder is, as I have said, misplaced. With regard to the persons
who lately left us, the word transparent is, if anything, an
understatement. The curate, the horsey stranger and the red-faced man
were, of course, discredited before NOAH entered the Ark."
"And yet," said the quiet man, staring, "we have this moment seen them
take good money from you!"
"That," answered the Complete Sportsman as he prepared to alight, "is
precisely where you make your mistake. The notes for which you saw me
obtain change from one of the confederates, and of which change I lost
less than half, were themselves----"
He paused, startled by the alteration that had taken place in the
demeanour of the quiet men, who had risen simultaneously. The train had
now stopped, and, glancing hastily over his shoulder, he saw that
Red-face and his companions, who must have continued their journey in
another compartment, were now surrounding the door.
For the first time the smile of the Complete Sportsman betrayed
uneasiness. "What--what does this mean?" he demanded.
"Merely," said the first of the quiet men blandly, "that your game is
up. You uttered at least twenty of those notes on the course to-day, and
we were bound to have you. My name is Inspector Pilling, of Scotland
Yard, and these gentlemen are my colleagues. We are five to one, so I
suggest that you come quietly."
To the curate he added, as they entered a waiting taxi, "You were quite
right, George; the chance of that little score was a soft thing."
The comments of the Complete Sportsman are best omitted. We are not the
author of _Pygmalion_.
* * * * *
Illustration: _Mistress._ "WHY, MARY, ISN'T THIS YOUR SUNDAY
AFTERNOON OUT? AREN'T YOU GOING FOR A WALK THIS LOVELY DAY?"
_Mary._ "PLEASE, 'M, I'D RATHER STAY IN. YOU SEE, MOST OF THE PEOPLE OUT
ON A SUNDAY IS COUPLES, AND I DON'T LIKE TO BE CONSPICUOUS."
* * * * *
From the Great North of Scotland Railway's advertisement in _The
Aberdeen Daily Journal_:--
"A train will leave Aberdeen at 7.30 p.m. for Aberdeen."
Thus enabling the cautious Aberdonian to improve his mind by travel at a
minimum of expense.
* * * * *