“I never bet on horse-racing. It is against my principles. I am told that the animal failed to win the contest.”

“Failed to win! Why, he was so far behind that he nearly came in first in the next race.”

“Tut!” said old Bittlesham.

“Tut is right,” I agreed. Then the rumminess of the thing struck me. “But if you haven’t dropped a parcel over the race,” I said, “why are you looking so rattled?”

“That fellow is here!”

“What fellow?”

“That bearded man.”

It will show you to what an extent the iron had entered into my soul when I say that this was the first time I had given a thought to young Bingo. I suddenly remembered now that he had told me he would be at Goodwood.