A CONVERT TO SOCIALISM 299 



There was nothing to be done but wait and trust 

 in luck. 



The morning of the twelfth broke fair and 

 unclouded, with no threat — at all events in the 

 weather — of baihffs. French had made all his 

 arrangements for moving the horse on the morrow. 

 A horse-box was to be attached to the 10.15 train 

 from Crowsnest, also to the London train for 

 Epsom, that started at 1.55. In less than twenty- 

 four hours now the horse would be out of Crowsnest 

 and the day-after-the-day-after-to-morrow was 

 the race. 



Garryowen was not even mentioned in the bet- 

 ting Hsts. White Moth was favourite, Vodki was 

 second favourite; after Vodki you might have 

 read such names as — your fancy wills, but not 

 the name of Garryowen. Only in the Hsts of the 

 big EngHsh and Continental betting agents did 

 this name obscurely appear. French had been 

 getting his money steadily on the horse. He 

 reckoned that when the flag fell he would 

 stand to win sixty thousand pounds, and the 

 thought of this, when it came on him now and 

 then, put him into such a fever that he could 

 not sit still. 



They were all sitting at luncheon to-day, and 

 merry enough for the moment, when a knock 

 came to the door and Nor ah entered. 



" Plaze, sir," said Norah, " there's a man wants 

 to see you." 



French half rose from the table. 



