looking badly, Wisdom, Benedict and another handy. By this
time Pocket Hercules has enough, and at the road the tailing
grows at every stride. Here the favourite himself is hors de
combat, as well as Dardanelles, and a crowd of lesser
celebrities.

There are now but four left in the race, and of these, two,
Hybiscus and Mahometan, are some lengths behind. Now it is
neck and neck between Caravan and Phosphorus. At the stand
Caravan has decidedly the best, but just at the post, Edwards,
on Phosphorus, lifts the gallant little horse, and with an
extraordinary effort contrives to shove him in by half a
length.

"You look a little low, Charley," said Lord Fitzheron, as
taking their lunch in their drag he poured the champagne into
the glass of Egremont.

"By Jove!" said Lord Milford, "Only think of Cockie Graves
having gone and done it!"




Book 1 Chapter 3



Egremont was the younger brother of an English earl, whose
nobility being of nearly three centuries' date, ranked him