... What price, Musser Watkins?"
"Ten to one."
"Right, 'ere's my bob."
The other porters gave their shillings; Watkins slid them back into his
pocket, and called to Joey to book the bet.
"And, now, what is yours, Mr. Latch?"
William stated the various items. He had had a bet of ten shillings to one
on one race and had lost; he had had half-a-crown on another and had lost;
in a word, three-and-sixpence had to be subtracted from his winnings on
Silver Braid. These amounted to more than five pounds. William's face
flushed with pleasure, and the world seemed to be his when he slipped four
sovereigns and a handful of silver into his waistcoat pocket. Should he
put a sovereign of his winnings on Silver Braid for the Chesterfield?
Half-a-sovereign was enough! ...The danger of risking a sovereign--a whole
sovereign--frightened him.
"Now, Mr. Latch," said old Watkins, "if you want to back anything, make up
your mind; there are a good many besides yourself who have business with
me."
William hesitated, and then said he'd take ten half-sovereigns to one
against Silver Braid.
"Ten half-sovereigns to one?" said old Watkins.
William murmured "Yes," and Joey booked the bet.
Mr. Leopold's business demanded more consideration. The fat betting man
and the scarecrow little butler walked aside and talked, both apparently
indifferent to the impatience of a number of small customers; sometimes
Joey called in his shrill cracked voice if he might lay ten half-crowns to
one, or five shillings to one, as the case might be.
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