THE HAUGHTYSHIRE HUNT. 21 



Jack then proceeded to ignite a peculiarly strong-smelling 

 cigar, the first whiff of which roused the unhappy Travers to 

 action. With a supreme effort he dashed off the clothes and 

 rushed into his dressing-room, bolting the door after him. 

 Mr. Dashwood blew a portentous cloud of smoke up to the 

 ceiling, and then said to himself — 



"Feels a little private this morning; evidently a trifle 

 squiffy about the wiffle- waffles. Ah, well, he'll be all right 

 again in about an hour's time, I daresay. Meantime I'll go 

 and hunt up the more or less worthy Sir Thomas, and then 

 we'll go down and inspect Crocker's gee-gee." 



Jack Dashwood and Sir Thomas Fitzsquander had each 

 brought a couple of hunters down with them, which they were 

 keeping at their host's expense, an arrangement which suited 

 these two mercurial young gentlemen admirably, as, with all 

 the capacity for enjoyment, and the most expensive tastes in 

 life, their pockets were almost invariably empty, and the race 

 of Hebraic money-lenders already knew them well. In fact, 

 round about the vicinity of Cork Street they were distinctly 

 better known than trusted. Both had arrived at ' man's 

 estate,' but neither, so far, at any other. Although they had 

 only just left Oxford, they had ' forgotten as much as most 

 people know ' of the ways of le monde qui s' amuse, and were 

 altogether very acute youths indeed. 



To say that Mr. Travers Algernon Binkie knew nothing 

 about horseflesh (except as retailed on little sticks, for the 

 benefit of the feline race) w^ould be putting the matter in 

 almost too mild a light. His ignorance on this subject might 

 be described as stately, and his two very excellent friends 

 were, we may be sure, not slow to profit by it when they saw 



