"No!"

"The enemy of the people! It isn't a pleasant title, is it?"

"It is a false one!" Mannering declared, with a little note of passion
quivering in his tone.

"It is as true and certain as the judgment of God!" his companion
answered, with almost lightning-like rapidity.

There was a moment's silence. They passed a lamp-post, and Mannering,
turning his head, scrutinized the other's features closely.

"I should like to know who you are," he said, "and what your name is."

"It is a reasonable curiosity," the man answered. "My name is Fardell,
Richard Fardell, and I am a retired bookmaker."

"A bookmaker!" Mannering repeated, incredulously.

"Precisely. I should imagine from what I know of you, Mr. Mannering, that
my occupation, or rather my late occupation, is not one which would
appeal to you favourably. Very likely not! I don't see why it should
myself. But at any rate, it taught me a lot about my fellow men. I did my
business in shillings and half-crowns, you see. Did it with the working
classes, the sort who used to go to a race-meeting for a jaunt, and just
have a bit on for the sake of the sport. Took their missus generally, and
made a holiday of it, and if they lost they'd grin and come and chaff me,
and if they won they'd spend the money like lords. I made money, of
course, bought houses, and made a lot more. Then business fell off. I