CHAPTER XXXVIII
FELIX BECOMES A LANDLORD
Jim Podmore's first feeling after the shock of the discovery was one of deep-felt gratitude, and a muttered "Thank the Lord!" escaped his lips as he saw his wife and child lying asleep in bed. When he started to his feet in a half-conscious state, with the clamour and the roar in his ears, his fear was that there had been an accident on the line, and that Polly and her mother had been hurt; and he was inexpressibly relieved to find that he had been dreaming. So deep and strong was his feeling of relief that he did not immediately realize the real danger which threatened him and those dear to him. It came upon him presently in its full force, and he recognised that a moment's delay might prove fatal. The first thing to find out was the extent of the danger. He had shut the door directly the fire met his gaze. Now he opened it, and ran down a few steps, on which the fire had not yet seized. He was beaten back by the flames. He fancied he heard cries from the lower part of the house, but he could see nothing for the smoke. There was no escape that way. Snap ran hither and thither in the wildest agitation, barking at the flames to keep them down. As Jim Podmore threw open the window in despair, to see what means of escape that outlet afforded, he saw the forms of persons hurrying to the street, and heard the cries they uttered. Those below could not distinguish his face, for he had closed the door again, and impelled by some strange process of reasoning, had locked it to keep out the flames. They saw, however, that some one was standing at the window, and they called out to him, but he was too agitated to understand what they said. The front of the house presented a flat surface of brick, and there seemed to be nothing between him and death-not a foothold, nor anything to cling to. The whole of this action had taken place in scarcely more than two or three moments, and within that time Snap had leaped upon the bed, and had aroused Pollypod and her mother. Had they been alone, it is probable that they would have slept on unconscious of their danger, for the smoke, stealing through the crevices of the door, had already somewhat stupefied them, and whatever subtle influence that and the dull roar of voices without might have had upon their dreams, they would not have aroused them to consciousness. Mrs. Podmore, with a scream, jumped out of bed, and looked wildly around; at the same moment she snatched Polly from the bed, and held the child close to shield her from danger.
"Keep cool, old woman," said Jim Podmore; "the house is on fire;" and muttered inly, "I knew that presentiment would come true-didn't I tell Old Wheels so?"
Mrs. Podmore was now standing at the window by Jim's side, with Polly in her arms. Their white night-dresses shone in the midst of the dark surface of brick, and voices reached them, rashly advising them to jump down. But they were on the third floor, and although Jim saw friendly arms held out below, he held his wife tight, lest in her fear she should obey the entreaties of their neighbours.
"There's time enough for that, old woman," he muttered, with thick breath; "perhaps the fire escape'll come. It'd be almost certain death to take the leap."
Time was too precious to waste in mere words, and he released her from his embrace. She turned to the door, but he cried out to her not to open it, and that their only chance lay in doing their best to keep out the flames.
"There's only one way out for us, old woman; and that's by the window. Put Polly down, and give me a hand here. Quick! Don't be frightened, my darling!"
He was tying the bedclothes together, to form a rope by which they might escape through the window, and Mrs. Podmore flew to help him. The door began to crack, and the room to fill with smoke; little jets of flame appeared.
"God help us!" cried Mrs. Podmore. "We shall be burnt to death!"
Jim said nothing to this, but all the bedclothes being used, he hurriedly fixed the mattress against the door, to gain another moment; then tied one end of the rope firmly to the foot of the bedstead, and threw the other end out of the window. It reached a little below the second-floor window. As he leaned forward to see how long it was, a ladder was fixed against the wall of the house, and a man, cheered on by the crowd, ran up to the room where Old Wheels slept.
"There's the old man getting out," said Jim, in a suppressed tone; the father, mother, and child were now together at the window; "and the man's jumped into the room. Don't look behind you, mother! Thank God, there's the fire-engine!"
It came tearing up the narrow street, and brave men were at work almost in an instant.
"The man's out on the ladder, mother, with Lily in his arms. Hurrah!" Jim lost sight of his own danger for a moment. "It'll be our turn presently. The Gribbles are getting down now. They've found a rope!"
Indeed, in less time than it takes to describe, all these, happily, were safely rescued, and only Jim Podmore and his wife and child remained in the burning house. The flames were in the room, and the fire-escape had not arrived. A moment's delay now would be fatal.
"Do you think you could hold fast to the rope," asked Jim of his wife, with a tightening grasp on the knots, "and slide down? There's no other chance left."
"I don't know, Jim," replied the trembling woman.
"See-there are two men climbing the ladder to catch us, and there are others below them, holding them up. You'll have to drop into their arms when you get to the end. Quick, mother! Now?"
"I can't, Jim," gasped the fainting woman; "I can't. Never mind me. Save Polly!"
Without another word, Jim Podmore, with Polly in his arms, swung out upon the rope. Happily it held and bore strain. Those below watched him with agonised looks, and the roar suddenly became hushed.
"Drop the child!" cried a voice. It came from one of the men on the ladder, and sounded clear and distinct, as from a silver trumpet. "Don't be frightened, Pollypod! It's me-Felix!"
"Felix! Felix!" screamed Pollypod, and as she cried, fell through the air into his arms. The cheers and the roar of delight that came from the crowd were frozen as it were in the throats of the excited throng as Jim, assuring himself by a hasty glance that his child was safe, began to ascend the rope for his wife. He was not a moment too soon. She was so overpowered with fright that he had to drag her through the window.
"Keep your senses about you," he cried, "for God's sake, old woman! Polly's safe! Hold me tight-don't loose your hold! For Polly's sake, now-for Polly's sake, mother!"
She clung to him so tightly as almost to press the breath out of his body; it was fortunate for them that another ladder was raised, and that other friendly arms were held out to break their fall. The moment they were safe, the attention of the crowd was diverted to the form of a dog, who was standing and barking on the window-sill above. It was Snap, who had been left behind. The dog was in great distress, for the flames were darting towards him, and he could scarcely keep his foothold. But Jim Podmore saw the peril of his faithful servant, and having hurriedly ascertained that his wife and Pollypod were unhurt, he ran up the ladder and called out to Snap to jump. The dog had but one alternative-to be burnt; so he risked his limbs, and jumped clean on the shoulders of his master, whence he rolled safely into the crowd, who cheered merrily at the episode. Soon all the rescued ones were assembled in a house at the bottom of the street. Their neighbours had lent them clothes, and they stood looking strangely at one another, grateful for their escape, but dismayed at the prospect before them. Presently their tongues were loosened, and every little incident connected with the fire was narrated with eagerness. No one knew or suspected how it had occurred. Alfred had come home, and, in accordance with the promise he had given to Lizzie to kiss Lily before he went to bed, had knocked at his sister's door and found that she was awake. He sat talking to her for about a quarter of an hour, and then went to bed.
"I was asleep in a minute," said Alfred, "and I don't remember anything until I was pulled out of bed and told the house was on fire."
He held out his hand to Felix, for it was Felix who, after helping to rescue Lily and Old Wheels, had aroused Alfred to a sense of his danger. Felix responded cordially, and was sufficient of a casuist to be quietly pleased because a lucky chance had given him a claim upon Alfred's gratitude.
Voices asked where the fire had commenced.
"It must have broken out in the lower part of the house," said Old Wheels; "but it does not matter to us now. Thank God we're all saved, eh, Pollypod?"
Pollypod nodded her head a dozen times, and looked solemnly at Felix.
"You saved me," she said.
"Father saved you, Polly," replied Felix. "Didn't he make a rope and creep out of the window down it with Polly in his arms?"
"But you caught me!"
"Yes, I caught you, little one. It's like the story of Cock Robin, with a happier ending. Some one saw the fire-some one cried out-some one climbed up-some one crept down-some one caught Polly."
Which made Polly laugh. But her father looked grave, His strait was a hard one indeed. Every stick of furniture burnt, every scrap of spare clothing burnt, no money in his purse, and not insured for a shilling. Here was a fine example for theorists whose favourite theme is the improvidence of the poor!
The Gribbles were better off than the others, and had taken shelter elsewhere. Gribble junior had saved his little store of money, and had thrown his clothes and those of his wife out of the window, not having had time to put them on. Gribble senior drivelled a great deal; and weakly declared his belief that co-operation was the cause of this, his crowning misfortune.
Jim Podmore did not say anything of his dream. His wife made a remark.
"It's an ill-wind that blows nobody good, Jim. If you hadn't fell asleep in the chair, you wouldn't have saved your clothes, perhaps."
"A nice figure I should ha' looked going to work without 'em," he replied, with grim humour.
If there was any comfort in the fact that they were all in the same boat as regards the complete destruction of their worldly goods, that comfort was theirs. The only one who seemed to make light of the misfortune was Felix; he extracted some secret satisfaction from it. He had a plan in his head.
He certainly lost no time in putting it into execution. In the afternoon of the following day he burst in upon them. He was flushed and triumphant.
"Now, then," he said, with heartless gaiety, "if you had anything to pack up, I should tell you to pack up at once and get ready. As it is, you can come along with we at once. I intend to take you all into custody."
They looked at him for his meaning.
"Polly," he said, "will you come and live in my house?"
"O, yes, yes!"
"I've settled it all with your husband, Mrs. Podmore, and he comes straight from his work to my house to-night; so you are powerless, you see, and dare not make an objection."
Old Wheels drew Felix aside.
"Explain this to me, Felix."
"Well, I knew of a house-a small one-ready furnished, which I could obtain on reasonable terms for a short time. I have taken it as a speculation, and I am going to instal you at once in your new home."
"How as a speculation, Felix?"
"Why, you shall pay me rent, of course, when you have turned yourself round, and so shall Mr. Podmore. The loss would be a very trifling one to me-I am doing fairly well now, you know-if you all cheated me out of the rent. Seriously, sir, I know you would as soon be under an obligation to me as to any other man, and a home you must have. I am delighted to have you all in my power."
He beckoned to Lily.
"Where do you think your new home is, Lily?"
"I can't guess."
Strange enough, she also seemed to extract happiness from their trouble.
"Where would you like it to be? Near to Lizzie's?"
She uttered an exclamation of pleasure.
"Well, it is; within twenty yards of Lizzie's house. Lizzie is making everything ready for you now. Mrs. Podmore has a room upstairs. A cab is waiting at the door, and we are all going together in a bunch."
Old Wheels rang Felix's hand; Lily smiled one of her brightest smiles; Pollypod jumped for joy; Mrs. Podmore burst out crying, and throwing her arms round Felix's neck, kissed him first and begged his pardon afterwards.
That evening they were all comfortably installed in their new residence. Even Alfred was delighted, although he knew that a sword was hanging over his head.
CHAPTER XXXIX
ALFRED'S LAST CHANCE
It happened that on the day succeeding the fire Mr. David Sheldrake purposely kept away from Soho. He was nettled at the treatment he had received the previous evening, both from Lily and Lizzie, and he was determined to show them that he was not to be trifled with. He knew that Alfred would be uneasy at not seeing him, for a great race-the City and Suburban-was to be run at Epsom the following week, and Alfred's hopes hung upon the result. Alfred had begged for another advance of money, and Mr. Sheldrake had promised to give it to him, knowing that it would be returned to him through Con Staveley. "He will be mad at not seeing me," thought Mr. Sheldrake, "and he will set it down to the manner in which the girls behaved to me last night. They will be sure to hear of it from him, and it will do them good. At any rate, it will show them that it is a dangerous game to play fast-and-loose with me." Mr. Sheldrake's vanity was wounded; he had never taken so much pains with a girl as he had taken with Lily, and here he was, after many months' attention and wooing, in the same position as when he started. Time had been wasted, and money had been thrown away; not much of the latter certainly-but the result altogether was unsatisfactory. He would bring the matter to a climax; he would close on Alfred, and send old Musgrave and Lizzie to the right-about. He had them all in his power, and fear might accomplish what fair words failed to do.
He did not hear of the fire until late in the following night. He hastened to the spot, and found the house in ruins. It was quite midnight before he ascertained where Lily had found refuge, and when he learnt that they had gone to live in a house very near to that occupied by Mr. Musgrave, he smiled complacently. "I could not have hoped for anything better," he thought. Before noon the next day he was at the house, overwhelming them with expressions of sympathy and with offers of assistance, all of which were gently declined by Old Wheels.
"We want for nothing, thank you," he said smilingly.
"But," urged Mr. Sheldrake somewhat coarsely, "I am told you were burnt right out, and hadn't time to save a stick."
"You were told right; we did not save a stick."
"Then you want a friend," persisted Mr. Sheldrake.
"We did," said Old Wheels, "and one came-the best of friends."
Burning to know who this best of friends was, Mr. Sheldrake put the question direct, which Old Wheels parried by saying,
"I don't think he would like us to speak of it, and I shall please him, I believe, by not mentioning his name."
There were in the room only the old man and Lily and Pollypod, and not one of these enlightened Mr. Sheldrake. When the old man spoke of this best of friends, Pollypod chimed in with enthusiastic declarations, and said, in her childlike way, that he was so good, so good!
"He seems to be a favourite with all of you," observed Mr. Sheldrake.
"He is a wizard," said Pollypod from her corner; "a good wizard. Father says he's a trump, and mother loves him. So do I, dearly, dearly. So does Mr. Wheels. So does Lily-don't you, Lily?"
Mr. Sheldrake turned suddenly and sharply upon Lily. A deep rose-tint had stolen into her face, and, for contrast, a dark cloud overshadowed Mr. Sheldrake's. Not a motion, not a look, escaped Old Wheels, who said,
"Yes, we cannot help having an affection for one who has been so kind to us."
"Of course not, of course not," assented Mr. Sheldrake, concealing his displeasure, "and I consider myself particularly unfortunate in having been deprived of the opportunity of standing in his place. Then I might have had the same claim upon your affection. It is the more unfortunate because I am so often in the habit of strolling about Soho during the small hours. Many a time have I walked up and down your street for an hour at least after midnight. Now what hard fortune was it that prevented me doing so on this occasion?" He intended these words to convey a significant declaration of his tender regard for Lily, and he added, in a low tone, addressed especially to her: "I went home not very happy because I thought you were angry with me for what occurred at the theatre. I hope you are not displeased with me now. Indeed, I was not to blame."
And again Mr. Sheldrake pressed offers of assistance upon Old Wheels, which again were firmly declined. The man of the world departed in no pleasant humour. His jealousy was aroused. Who was this friend, of whom the child had said that she loved him dearly, dearly, and that Lily loved him also? He had half a suspicion, and he was determined to know. Then his thoughts reverted to Lily's behaviour to himself. "Does she suspect," he mused, in his own elegant vernacular, "that I'm not acting on the square, and is she holding off on purpose to draw me on? In one word, David Sheldrake, is the girl a model of simplicity-or artfulness? Any way, she is a witch, and has set me on fire, I will have her! I could almost make up my mind to marry her." A serious consideration for such a man as he, who look upon girls merely as the playthings of an hour, and in whose mind womanly virtue and goodness are like dead wood in a forest. That, in case he made up his mind to such a contingency, there would be a doubt of success, was too manifestly ridiculous to be entertained for a moment. As he mused, he saw Alfred coming towards him. The young man did not see Mr. Sheldrake at first, and that gentleman stepped aside to observe Alfred's manner, in which he seemed to detect something more marked than usual. Alfred was walking quickly and nervously, looking over his shoulder hurriedly this way and that, as if some one were dogging him. Once a dog ran, barking, out of a house, and Alfred turned round swiftly with a white face and an exclamation of fright. Mr. Sheldrake watched these symptoms of agitation with remarkable keenness, and as Alfred passed clapped him on the shoulder. A cry of alarm escaped from Alfred's trembling lips, for Mr. Sheldrake's salutation was sudden and violent; seeing who it was, however, Alfred smiled and drew a long breath of relief.
"Who did you think it was, Alf?" asked Mr. Sheldrake, to whom Alfred's manner seemed to be in some way a satisfaction.
"I didn't know, you clapped me on the shoulder so suddenly."
"You gave a cry," observed Mr. Sheldrake, with assumed carelessness, "for all the world as if I were a detective officer. Don't start; I'm not. That's one comfort, isn't it?"
"I don't see how it is a comfort," said Alfred half sullenly, and yet with an air which showed that he wished not to offend his companion; "I'm nervous, that's the fact. Been smoking and drinking a little too much; I shall be all right next Tuesday, after the City and Suburban's run."
"Going to Epsom to see the race?"
"Yes; I hope you'll do what you promised."
"We'll talk of that presently. You've got the tip, of course?"
"Yes, and a good one; but there's something else I'm going to do if you'll stand my friend once more."
"A new system?"
"Well, not exactly that: but a plan which must prevent the chance of loss."
"That's good enough, Alf," said Mr. Sheldrake in a light tone. "But come, I want to have a talk with you." They were at the gate of Mr. Musgrave's house. "Let us turn in here."
Lizzie opened the door, and greeted them with a smile. Mr. Sheldrake had not seen her since the night they were at the theatre together, and, remembering how she had spoken to him then, he was somewhat surprised at her amiability. He was still more surprised when Lizzie said she hoped he had not taken offence because she spoke so sharply to him.
"I was so anxious about Lily you see," she said; "and even Alfred had to put up with my bad temper. Didn't you, Alf?"
"Yes, dear," replied Alfred, pleased with her changed manner towards his friend.
"Well, well," said Mr. Sheldrake, gaily shaking hands again with Lizzie, "let byegones be byegones. Is the old man at home?"
"No," replied Lizzie readily; "I don't think he will be back for an hour."
"We'll go into his room," said Mr. Sheldrake, and he and Alfred went upstairs to the room where Mr. Musgrave transacted his business, and which Lizzie had called Bluebeard's room, because she was never allowed to enter it. Mr. Sheldrake had a private key, and before he opened the door, he turned to Lizzie, who had accompanied them to the landing, and tapping her familiarly on the cheek, told her to go down stairs, that he and Alfred would not keep her long, and that he was glad she thought better of him.
"Upon my word," he said with blithe significance, "I'm as glad for Alfred's sake as I am for my own."
And with a light laugh he led the way into the room. If he had seen the change that came over the girl's face when he shut the door upon her, and if he had seen her clench her little fists, and shake them at an airy picture of himself which she conjured up, he might have altered his agreeable tone. His manner also changed directly the door was closed and locked. An his cordiality vanished as he sat down at the table and took a pocket-book from his pocket. Alfred watched him apprehensively.
Everything in this Bluebeard's room betokened order and system. Two sides of the room were completely covered with pigeon-holes, and the compartments were nearly filled with documents neatly folded and ticketed. Although, from the appearance of the room and the shelves, a large amount of work was evidently gone through, not a loose document nor a scrap of writing was lying about. This circumstance appeared to give Mr. Sheldrake much satisfaction, and he nodded his head approvingly as he looked around. He did not waste time, however, but proceeded at once to the business before him. Opening his pocket-book, he selected some papers from it, and laid them on the table.
"Sit down, Alf," he said.
Alfred obeyed. Mr. Sheldrake unfolded the papers, and jotted down some figures from them; and laying his hand upon them, as if he did not immediately intend to refer to them said,
"I have been to your new house to-day, Alf."
"I called at your place yesterday," said Alfred, "to tell you about the fire, and where we had moved to, but you were not at home."
"No; and I kept from Soho purposely. I was angry with Lizzie, and I was not pleased with your sister. They will have to learn, if they have not learned already, that I am not to be trifled with."
Alfred had no reply to make to this; he felt that his best plan would be to listen quietly, and to say as few words as possible.
"By heavens;" exclaimed Mr. Sheldrake, with more passion that he usually displayed, "I think I have been patient long enough-too long! No other man but me would have stood it. Every advance that I make-except," he added with a sneer, "those advances I make to you-is met as if I were an enemy instead of a friend. It is time for this to be settled. I'll know very soon whether I'm to be a friend or foe. I can be as good an enemy as a friend, and that I'll prove. With you, now, which is it, friend or foe?"
"Which can it be," answered Alfred moodily, "but friend?"
"Out-and-out friend, eh? No half-measures-thorough!"
"Thorough, out-and-out!" responded Alfred a little less despondently.
"No beating about the bush? No concealments, no double-dealing?"
"None."
"And you say this," pursued Mr. Sheldrake with remorseless tenacity-he had been so goaded that it was necessary he should revenge himself upon some one-"you say this not because it is for your interest to say it-not because you are in my debt, and I could shut you up at any moment I please-but because you believe it, because you know that I am straightforward, honest-minded, open-hearted?"
"What other motive can I have for saying it?"
"But say it plainly. You wish me to continue your friend, and to be my friend, for the reasons that I have given?"
"Yes, for those reasons, and no other." And as Alfred spoke the lie which was forced from him by fear, Mr. Sheldrake laughed lightly, and with an open scorn of the avowal, which brought the blood to the younger man's cheek.
It brought the blood also to the cheek of another person, not in the room. Crouching outside the door, at the top of the landing, was Lizzie, listening with beating heart, and hearing every word that passed. She could see clearly everything in the room, and being in the dark herself, could not be detected. A small lumber-room, the door of which she had partly opened, and which swung noiselessly on its hinges, was ready to afford her the means of concealment should the suspicions of Mr. Sheldrake be aroused. She saw the insolent triumphant manner of Mr. Sheldrake, and she thought for a moment that if she were a man, she would kill him; but she saw also the abject manner of her lover, and her passion was subdued by fear.
"If I thought you were deceiving me, Alf," said Mr. Sheldrake, "I should know what to do."
"What makes you speak in this way to me?" Alfred mustered up sufficient courage to ask. "If you doubt me, try me."
"I will. I was at your house to-day, as I have told you. I offered your grandfather assistance; he declined it. Both he and Lily were anything but cordial to me. For the old man I don't care one jot; but he influences Lily, and has power over her. She follows the cue he gives her. The old man said they wanted for nothing; that they had a friend, who had come forward at the nick of time-a friend, said that railway man's little girl, that they all loved-old man, little girl, Lily, and all."
Mr. Sheldrake bit his lips at the remembrance of the blush which had come to Lily's cheek when Pollypod asked her if she didn't love this friend.
"Children talk all sorts of nonsense," said Alfred, "and Polly more than most children."
"Perhaps; but that isn't the question just now. Who is this friend, this paragon, this model of goodness, that everybody loves?"
Alfred hesitated for one moment only. Felix asked them, as a particular favour, not to mention his name as having befriended them, and they had given him the promise. But Alfred felt that to hesitate now, and to beat about the bush with Mr. Sheldrake in that gentleman's present humour, would be fatal to him. So he answered,
"His name is Felix Creamwell. He in an old acquaintance."
"I thought so; the same young cub who interrupted my conversation with Lily after we came from the theatre. What is the special tie that binds him to your people?"
This direct questioning of Felix s motive for befriending them staggered Alfred. It had never occurred to him before; and with the sudden introduction of the subject came a glimpse of light-a new revelation-which enabled him but dimly at present to place a possible correct construction on Lily's unhappiness. Policy impelled him to reply,
"Friendship for my grandfather, I suppose."
But he stammered over the words, and Mr. Sheldrake said sharply,
"You don't seem quite certain as to his motive, Alf."
"I know that there's a great friendship between him and my grandfather," said Alfred, and with a fuller consciousness of what was at stake; "and although I have never asked myself the question, I should say that what he has done has been prompted by friendship."
"Not by love?"
"Love for whom?" inquired Alfred in his turn, with ready cunning.
"Well, let that pass," replied Mr. Sheldrake, only too willing not to have his doubts confirmed. "I daresay I can square the account between us, if we ever come across each other. I know I can make it even with you. He has a motive, doubtless, and I don't believe in disinterested friendship. Now we will come to our own business." He took the papers which he had laid aside, and looked over them. "You know what these are?"
"I see some of my bills among them."
"Accounts of money you owe me-dishonoured acceptances, and other documents equally valuable. Here is your bill for sixty pounds, due three weeks since, dishonoured, and for which you were served with a writ."
"As a mere matter of form, I understood you to say," put in Alfred, trembling.
"I have obtained judgment upon it, nevertheless."
"What for?"
"So as to be ready," said Mr. Sheldrake coolly, "in case I find you are playing the double with me. It will be best for you to understand at once that I am in serious earnest. Miss Lizzie would not say many more uncivil things to me if she knew this. I suppose you couldn't say how much you owe me?"
"I haven't kept an account."
"It being no business of yours. Well, I have, feeling interested in it, naturally; and what between me and Con Stavely, the debt is as near three hundred pounds as possible. Is it convenient to you to settle this small account?"
"You know it isn't," answered Alfred, with a groan; and added entreatingly, "If you will advance me what you promised for the City and Suburban, I shall be able to pay you a good lump after the race."
"How if you lose?"
"I can't lose I must win; I must! Even if I didn't do what I am going to do-even if I trusted entirely to chance-luck must turn. You have told me so yourself a dozen times. But I don't depend upon that."
"How much do you want?"
"Forty pounds;" and Alfred twined his fingers nervously. Indeed, it seemed to him, as it had seemed a dozen times in the course of the year gone by, that the result was a certainty, if he had only the money to back his opinion. "If I can but once get clear," he thought, not for the first time, "I'll never back another horse as long as I live-never, never!"