Page:Marsh--The seen and the unseen.djvu/160

136 Mr. Jacobs spoke. "Well, Mr. Major, it's my business to lay against horses at the market odds. I'll give you seven to three, though I'm not quite sure that I am doing the proper thing, you know. How much? The lot?"

Mr. Major held out to him the handful of banknotes which he had just received.

"I don't know, Mr. Major, if you think I've brought the Bank of England out with me, because I haven't; so if I run a little short—and you do seem as though you were going to bleed me—perhaps you wouldn't mind taking my cheque; you'll find it good enough."

"I shall be delighted."

The bet was made. Sweet Violet won easily was the general verdict; though as to that Mr. Major knew nothing. He saw the number go up upon the telegraph, and that was all he knew about it. He received back his eight thousand four hundred pounds, and an open cheque to boot. The figures upon that cheque seemed to dance before his eyes. But as he handed over that cheque Mr. Jacob's mood seemed to be by no means effusive.

"That's enough for me, Mr. Major, for to-day. I'm going to take to backing horses for a change."

Whether Mr. Jacobs meant what he said or not, at any rate, he declined to have anything more to do with Mr. Major.

"You're too clever for me!" he declared.

The artist had to seek a market elsewhere. Not that it took him long to find one—offers to deal rained on him from every side.

"Deal with me—I'm George Foote, Mr. Major."