When they reached Doncaster the racing-men were all occupied with Prime Minister.  The horse and Mr Pook had arrived that day from Newmarket, via Cambridge and Peterborough.  Tifto, Silverbridge, and Mr Pook visited him together three times that afternoon and evening;—­and the Captain also visited the horse, though not in company with Lord Silverbridge.  To do Mr Pook justice, no one could be more careful.  When the Captain came round with the Major Mr Pook was there.  But Captain Green did not enter the box,—­had no wise to do so, was of the opinion that on such occasions no one whose business did not carry him there should go near a horse.  His only object seemed to be to compliment Mr Pook as to his care, skill, and good fortune.

It was on the Tuesday evening that the chief mischief was done.  There was a club at which many of the racing-men dined, and there Lord Silverbridge spent his evening.  He was the hero of the hour, and everybody flattered him.  It must be acknowledged that his head was turned.  They dined at eight and much wine was drunk.  No one was tipsy, but many were elated; and much confidence in their favourite animals was imparted to men who had been sufficiently cautious before dinner.  Then cigars and soda-and-brandy became common, and our young friend was not more abstemious than others.  Large sums were named, and at last in three successive bets Lord Silverbridge backed his horse for more than forty thousand pounds.  As he was making the second bet Mr Lupton came across to him and begged him to hold his hand.  ’It will be a nasty sum for you to lose, and winning it will be nothing to you,’ he said.  Silverbridge took it good-humouredly, but said that he knew what he was about.  ‘These men will pay,’ whispered Lupton; ’but you can’t be sure what they’re at.’  The young man’s brow was covered with perspiration.  He was smoking quick and had already smoked more than was good for him.  ‘All right,’ he said.  ’I’ll mind what I’m about.’  Mr Lupton could do no more, and retired.  Before the night was over bets had been booked to the amount stated, and the Duke’s son, who had promised that he would never plunge, stood to lose about seventy thousand pounds upon the race.

While this was going on Tifto sat not far from his patron, but completely silent.  During the day and early in the evening a few sparks of the glory which scintillated from the favourite horse flew in his direction.  But he was on this occasion unlike himself, and though the horse was to be run in his name had very little to say in the matter.  Not a boast came out of his mouth during dinner or after dinner.  He was so moody that his partner, who was generally anxious to keep him quiet, more than once endeavoured to encourage him.  But he was unable to rouse himself.  It was still within his power to run straight; to be on the square, if not with Captain Green, at any rate with Lord Silverbridge.  But to do so he must make a clean breast with his