“Well, you’re certainly as smart as they give you credit for, I must say.  But suppose Danby had taken down his ‘To Let’ notice, what would you have done, then?”

“We had our course, even then.  We should have gone to Danby, astounded him by telling him all about his little games, terrorized him with threats of the law, and made him throw up his hand and send Crockett back.  But, as it is, you see, he doesn’t know at this moment—­probably won’t know till to-morrow afternoon—­that the lad is safe and sound here.  You will probably use the interval to make him pay for losing the game—­by some of the ingenious financial devices you are no doubt familiar with.”

“Ay, that I will.  He’ll give any price against Crockett now, so long as the bet don’t come direct from me.”

“But about Crockett, now,” Hewitt went on.  “Won’t this confinement be likely to have damaged his speed for a day or two?”

“Ah, perhaps,” the landlord replied; “but, bless ye, that won’t matter.  There’s four more in his heat to-morrow.  Two I know aren’t tryers, and the other two I can hold in at a couple of quid apiece any day.  The third round and final won’t be till to-morrow week, and he’ll be as fit as ever by then.  It’s as safe as ever it was.  How much are you going to have on?  I’ll lump it on for you safe enough.  This is a chance not to be missed; it’s picking money up.”

“Thank you; I don’t think I’ll have anything to do with it.  This professional pedestrian business doesn’t seem a pretty one at all.  I don’t call myself a moralist, but, if you’ll excuse my saying so, the thing is scarcely the game I care to pick tap money at in any way.”

“Oh, very well! if you think so, I won’t persuade ye, though I don’t think so much of your smartness as I did, after that.  Still, we won’t quarrel; you’ve done me a mighty good turn, that I must say, and I only feel I aren’t level without doing something to pay the debt.  Come, now, you’ve got your trade as I’ve got mine.  Let me have the bill, and I’ll pay it like a lord, and feel a deal more pleased than if you made a favor of it—­not that I’m above a favor, of course.  But I’d prefer paying, and that’s a fact.”

“My dear sir, you have paid,” Hewitt said, with a smile.  “You paid in advance.  It was a bargain, wasn’t it, that I should do your business if you would help me in mine?  Very well; a bargain’s a bargain, and we’ve both performed our parts.  And you mustn’t be offended at what I said just now.”

“That I won’t!  But as to that Raggy Steggles, once those heats are over to-morrow, I’ll—­well——­”

It was on the following Sunday week that Martin Hewitt, in his rooms in London, turned over his paper and read, under the head “Padfield Annual 135 Yards Handicap,” this announcement:  “Final heat:  Crockett, first; Willis, second; Trewby, third; Owen, 0; Howell, 0.  A runaway win by nearly three yards.”

III.