I am not attending the Derby this year. Nor was it my original
intention to go last year, but since my beneficent employers, unasked,
offered me a day off, Selina insisted we ought to go. It was a
national institution, a sight everyone should see once in a lifetime,
and so forth. I protested it was an extravagance; that to be married
was really more than we could afford, let alone race-meetings. But
Selina was firm. She would pay, if necessary, out of the house-keeping
money. Besides it need cost nothing. We might win enough money to
cover our expenses.
Thus the idea of betting was introduced. Gambling in all forms is
against my principles; and how I came to give in on the point I
scarcely know. From the way Selina argued one might have supposed that
a bet on the Derby was a prudent investment, something in the nature
of a life-insurance which no careful husband would neglect to make.
So I yielded, merely stipulating that our stake was not to exceed one
pound: and this amount fortunately satisfied Selina's conception of
recklessness.
So upon the appointed day we found ourselves at the famous Heath,
or is it the Downs? The selection of a horse to bear our fortunes to
victory was not made without anxious debate, since Selina's choice was
based upon the colour scheme of the jockey's coats, and mine on the
romantic associations of the animals' names. In the end we compromised
on a horse called Grand Parade.
Next, equally momentous, we selected a bookmaker who was to oblige us
by opposing our fancy at the most advantageous rate. I was in favour
of picking a man whose abundance of chin and paunch would, should he
default, prevent his attaining more than four miles an hour on the
flat. I had already discovered one that answered this description. He
was soliciting clients in a voice that made one think a vulture might
be rending his liver. Selina, who pretends to read character from
faces, declared his eyes were too close together for those of an
honest man. She had singled out a more suitable individual, and she
indicated to me a slender gentlemanly man dressed in a grey frock-coat
with a tall hat of the same colour just pathetically beginning to grow
shabby. He also invited custom, but in a refined, almost confidential
tone which, in comparison with the braying of his rival, resembled
the cooing of a dove. His features, which to me denoted weakness of
character, Selina asserted to be those of an honourable man struggling
with adversity. It was to support an ailing wife, she felt sure, that
he toiled at his uncongenial vocation. I should have liked to explain,
though I knew it was useless, that our object in dealing with him
was not to contribute to the support of his wife; that our success,
indeed, might mean that the unhappy lady would be deprived for many
a week to come of those little delicacies that are essential to the
comfort of an invalid.
Against my better judgment I gave in and our little stake was
deposited in his hands. I almost felt inclined to apologize for
its smallness, but his courtesy in accepting it rendered excuses
unnecessary. Nevertheless I should have preferred, when taking up a
position to view the race, to have chosen a spot from which we could
at the same time have kept an eye on his gentlemanly tall hat. Selina
however poohpoohed the idea. We therefore walked some little distance
to a point on the hill whence, some ten minutes later, we had the
satisfaction of seeing Grand Parade gallop home a winner.
In the moment of triumph I had almost forgotten my apprehensions as to
our bookmaker. Selina however had not, for, as we caught sight of
his elegant grey-clad figure on our return, she could not resist
exclaiming, "See how wrong your suspicions were."
The crowd, set loose after the tension of the race, impeded our
progress, so that by the time we reached him he was alone. Apparently
he had paid off all the other winners, and we were the last claimants
to arrive.
"Ah, I was waiting for you," he said in his easy well-bred fashion.
"You will think it very strange, perhaps, but for the moment I am
unable to pay you. Most absurd. My losses have been rather more than I
calculated, and I have unfortunately disbursed all my available cash.
You need be under no apprehension, however; if you will kindly give me
your address you shall have a cheque by the first post to-morrow."
I tried to recall what one did to welshers. I seemed to remember that
one raised a hue-and-cry, that one tarred and feathered them, and rode
them on a rail to a pond. I am, however, constitutionally timid
about making my voice heard in public, and I was as short of tar and
feathers as he was of ready cash. I had therefore no alternative but
to draw out my pocket-case and present him with a card.
"Ah, thanks," he said, and with a neat little silver pencil he
scribbled on the back a hieroglyph of some sort, doubtless to jog his
memory. Then he wished me good-day with many apologies and, politely
taking off his hat to Selina, sauntered leisurely in the direction of
the railway-station.
I confess that this _contretemps_ somewhat dashed my spirits. Nor
was my chagrin lessened by observing, during the remainder of the
afternoon, my corpulent friend, notwithstanding the closeness of his
eyes to each other, paying off regularly, at the end of each race, a
host of customers with the greatest good grace, enlivened by coarse
jocularities. I followed the rest of the sport with little zest, and
my cup of enjoyment was not filled to overflowing when, possessing
first-class return tickets, we had to stand, Selina as well as myself,
in a crowded third-class smoker.
Selina however preserved both her spirits and her confidence.
Bookmakers, she had heard, were, as a class, most honourable. Their
losses could not be recovered by law, but they regarded them as debts
of honour. There were exceptions, of course, but the gentleman in grey
was not one of them. Something told her so. I should see that she was
right.
At breakfast next morning we scanned our post for a letter in an
unfamiliar handwriting. There was none.
"It was really rather early to expect one," said Selina.
On the following morning, however, amongst others there lay a letter
in a strange writing, addressed moreover in precisely the same style
as the description of me on my visiting card.
"What did I tell you?" said Selina.
"Well?" she asked, as I tore open the envelope and read the letter.
"This must be some mistake," I said. "It is a demand from the railway
for a first-class fare from Epsom to London. They state that I was
detected travelling without a ticket. Ridiculous. I shall pay no
attention to it."
In the evening, however, as I started home from the City, I thought
better. It would save trouble if I looked in at London Bridge.
"You have come to pay?" said the chief clerk, as I showed him the
note.
"Indeed I have not," said I. "On the contrary the Company should
refund me the difference between first and third-class fare."
"Do you deny, then, that you travelled back from Epsom without a
ticket?"
"Indeed I do."
"You will not deny, perhaps, that this is the card you handed the
inspector with a promise to pay?"
I took the proffered card. I could not deny it, for the card was mine.
I turned it over. There, faintly legible on the back in pencil, was
the hieroglyph that the bookie had scrawled on it.
I explained to the clerk. I also explained to Selina when I got home.
She, however, sticks to her original contention. She was not deceived.
Fundamentally the man was honest. Only the expenses of his wife's long
illness had caused him to deviate from the path of probity.
* * * * *