of information about the splendid day he had had and the luck he was
in.

"I bet five hundred even that it would be over in a quarter of an
hour; and then I bet Byron two hundred and fifty to one that it
wouldn't. That's the way to doit; eh, Bedford? Catch Cashel letting
two hundred and fifty slip through his fingers! By George, though,
he's an artful card. At the end of fourteen minutes I thought my
five hundred was corpsed. The Dutchman was full of fight; and Cashel
suddenly turned weak and tried to back out of the rally. You should
have seen the gleam in the Dutchman's eye when he rushed in after
him. He made cock-sure of finishing him straight off."

"Indeed, my lord. Dear me!"

"I should think so: I was taken in by it myself. It was only done to
draw the poor devil. By George, Bedford, you should have seen the
way Cashel put in his right. But you couldn't have seen it; it was
too quick. The Dutchman was asleep on the grass before he knew he'd
been hit. Byron had collected fifteen pounds for him before he came
to. His jaw must feel devilish queer after it. By Jove, Bedford,
Cashel is a perfect wonder. I'd back him for every cent I possess
against any man alive. He makes you feel proud of being an
Englishman."

Bedford looked on with submissive wonder as his master, transfigured
with enthusiasm, went hastily to and fro through the room,
occasionally clinching his fist and smiting an imaginary Dutchman.
The valet at last ventured to remind him that he had forgotten the
letter.