PITCHING THE TALE 



he proceeded. *' My friend would not let me back the 

 winner after a favourable opinion you had expressed 

 concerning No. 6. We had our money on him. 

 Now tip me a hopeless horse to give him in revenge." 

 It was puzzling. 



It was the same dear old story. I didn't mind who 

 spoke to me, but my reputation wouldn't stand being 

 quoted as tipping a horse who wasn't on the map. 

 You might as well have taken the commonest selling 

 hurdler and advised backing him for a Grand National. 

 I passed on, saying something to the effect of " better 

 luck next time." I wasn't going to be drawn into 

 giving advice. I heard the story afterwards. The 

 old fellow had come over in the "boat" with the 

 younger one, it was his one and only experience on 

 a European racecourse. The next morning I saw 

 the two in the Grand Hotel, where they were joined 

 by a third, also one of the " lads," who was paid 

 nearly ten thousand francs in cash by the patri- 

 archal sportsman. He took it very well, and never 

 squealed. One afternoon I ran across him near the 

 Chatham bar, and he told me he was leaving Paris the 

 next day, and asked me to have a bottle of wine with 

 him, as he had been " pleased to meet me." He told 

 me that he had hoped to remain in Europe longer than 

 he had, but through an unfortunate speculation his 

 money had become limited. He added that he did 

 not wish to say anything, but simply that he had lost 

 his money on the race-track. He had his own views, 

 he added. Warming under the wine, however, he 

 put the point-blank question whether I thought he 

 would have received his money if he had won it ? 

 But I played for safety, and suggested that it was no 

 good going into such hypothetical questions. " You 

 didn't win, so there's an end to the matter." And he 



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