AN OFF CHANCE. 203 



was quite a different person and much less easy 

 to deal with east of the Griffin. Flutterton had 

 been there already too often, and hated the idea 

 of going again. He would never have risked 

 a thousand pounds on a horse unless he had 

 thought that he was playing with money 

 which he had won, and 7 to 4 to a thousand 

 pounds meant c£1750, an amount that would 

 have put two or three uncomfortable little 

 matters that worried him a great deal pleasantly 

 straight. It would have left him enough to buy 

 a two-year-old on which he had set his heart, 

 and unless things went wrong again — and he did 

 not propose to risk large sums — he need not 

 have been particular what price he paid for a 

 couple of good hunters, good enough, perhaps, 

 to pick up a steeplechase or two at unambitious 

 meetings. When he saw The Admiral's blue 

 jacket borne a good length first past the post, in 

 precise conformity with the result of a trial, 

 about which he had heard from perhaps the 

 shrewdest man on the turf — an ex-trainer who 

 had retired, bought some horses, and was well- 

 nigh invincible when he had made up his mind 

 to win a race — a glow of satisfaction had seemed 

 to extend all over him. There was not a happier 

 little man on the racecourse. He had not heard 

 the cries of '' Objection ! " " Don't pay ! " in the 



