The groom, a red-cheeked youth, paid no attention.

"If this here Ambler of Mr. George's wins on Wednesday," he said, "it's
as good as five pounds in my pocket. Who does for Mr. George?"

"James, of course."

The groom whistled.

"I'll try an' get his loadin' to-morrow. Are you on, Tom?"

The footman answered:

"Here's another over the page. Green room, right wing--that Foxleigh;
he's no good. 'Take all you can and give nothing' sort! But can't he
shoot just! That's why they ask him!"

From behind a screen of dark trees the train ran in.

Down the platform came the first passengers--two cattlemen with long
sticks, slouching by in their frieze coats, diffusing an odour of beast
and black tobacco; then a couple, and single figures, keeping as far
apart as possible, the guests of Mr. Horace Pendyce. Slowly they came
out one by one into the loom of the carriages, and stood with their eyes
fixed carefully before them, as though afraid they might recognise each
other. A tall man in a fur coat, whose tall wife carried a small bag of
silver and shagreen, spoke to the coachman:

"How are you, Benson? Mr. George says Captain Pendyce told him he
wouldn't be down till the 9.30. I suppose we'd better----"