I was on the other side of the course. There was no time to get
back to the enclosure. The horses were already forming for the
start. A few yards off, under a white umbrella, an outside
bookmaker was shouting his final prices in stentorian tones. He
was a big, genial-looking man, with an honest red face.
"What price 'Mrs. Waller'?" I asked him.
"Fourteen to one," he answered, "and good luck to you."
I handed him half a sovereign, and he wrote me out a ticket. I
crammed it into my waistcoat pocket, and hurried off to see the
race. To my intense astonishment "Mrs. Waller" won. The novel
sensation of having backed the winner so excited me that I forgot
all about my money, and it was not until a good hour afterwards
that I recollected my bet.
Then I started off to search for the man under the white umbrella.
I went to where I thought I had left him, but no white umbrella
could I find.
Consoling myself with the reflection that my loss served me right
for having been fool enough to trust an outside "bookie," I turned
on my heel and began to make my way back to my seat. Suddenly a
voice hailed me:-
"Here you are, sir.
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