“Ah! there you are:—­scurry away and fetch my purse out of the bottom of the cab.  I’ve dropped it.”

On this errand, the confiding cabman retired.  Holding to a gentleman’s purse is even securer than holding to a gentleman.

While Algernon was working his forefinger in his waistcoat-pocket reflectively, a man at his elbow said, with a show of familiar deference,—­

“If it’s any convenience to you, sir,” and showed the rim of a gold piece ’twixt finger and thumb.

“All right,” Algernon replied readily, and felt that he was known, but tried to keep his eyes from looking at the man’s face; which was a vain effort.  He took the money, nodded curtly, and passed in.

Once through the barrier, he had no time to be ashamed.  He was in the atmosphere of challenges.  He heard voices, and saw men whom not to challenge, or try a result with, was to acknowledge oneself mean, and to abandon the manliness of life.  Algernon’s betting-book was soon out and in operation.  While thus engaged, he beheld faces passing and repassing that were the promise of luncheon and a loan; and so comfortable was the assurance thereof to him, that he laid the thought of it aside, quite in the background, and went on betting with an easy mind.

Small, senseless bets, they merely occupied him; and winning them was really less satisfactory than losing, which, at all events, had the merit of adding to the bulk of his accusation against the ruling Powers unseen.

Algernon was too savage for betting when the great race was run.  He refused both at taunts and cajoleries; but Lord Suckling coming by, said “Name your horse,” and, caught unawares, Algernon named Little John, one of the ruck, at a hazard.  Lord Suckling gave him fair odds, asking:  “In tens?—­fifties?”

“Silver,” shrugged Algernon, implacable toward Fortune; and the kindly young nobleman nodded, and made allowance for his ill-temper and want of spirit, knowing the stake he had laid on the favourite.

Little John startled the field by coming in first at a canter.

“Men have committed suicide for less than this” said Algernon within his lips, and a modest expression of submission to fate settled on his countenance.  He stuck to the Ring till he was haggard with fatigue.  His whole nature cried out for Champagne, and now he burst away from that devilish circle, looking about for Lord Suckling and a hamper.  Food and a frothing drink were all that he asked from Fortune.  It seemed to him that the concourse on the downs shifted in a restless way.

“What’s doing, I wonder?” he thought aloud.

“Why, sir, the last race ain’t generally fashionable,” said his cabman, appearing from behind his shoulder.  “Don’t you happen to be peckish, sir?—­’cause, luck or no luck, that’s my case.  I couldn’t see, your purse, nowheres.”

“Confound you! how you hang about me!  What do you want?” Algernon cried; and answered his own question, by speeding the cabman to a booth with what money remained to him, and appointing a place of meeting for the return.  After which he glanced round furtively to make sure that he was not in view of the man who had lent him the sovereign.  It became evident that the Downs were flowing back to London.