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The Metropolitan Touch

man Steggles. “Big effects and all that sort of thing.”

“I believe so.”

“Of course, it means a lot to him, doesn’t it? He’s told you about the girl, of course?”

“Yes. And I hear you’re laying seven to one against him,” I said, eyeing the blighter a trifle austerely.

He didn’t even quiver.

“Just a little flutter to relieve the monotony of country life,” he said.

“But you’ve got the facts a bit wrong. It’s down in the village that they’re laying seven to one. I can do you better than that, if you feel in a speculative mood. How about a tenner at a hundred to eight?”

“Good Lord! Are you giving that?”

“Yes. Somehow,” said Steggles meditatively, “I have a sort of feeling, a kind of premonition that something’s going to go wrong

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