I should not be
surprised if you got a good thing."
At this moment, a huge, broad-faced, rosy-gilled fellow, with
one of those good-humoured yet cunning countenances that we
meet occasionally on the northern side of the Trent, rode up
to the ring on a square cob and dismounting entered the
circle. He was a carcase butcher, famous in Carnaby market,
and the prime councillor of a distinguished nobleman for whom
privately he betted on commission. His secret service to-day
was to bet against his noble employer's own horse, and so he
at once sung out, "Twenty to one against Man-trap."
A young gentleman just launched into the world, and who, proud
of his ancient and spreading acres, was now making his first
book, seeing Man-trap marked eighteen to one on the cards,
jumped eagerly at this bargain, while Lord Fitzheron and Mr
Berners who were at hand and who in their days had found their
names in the book of the carcase butcher, and grown wise by
it, interchanged a smile.
"Mr Egremont will not take," said Hump Chippendale to the peer
in the white great coat.
"You must have been too eager," said his noble friend.
The ring is up; the last odds declared; all gallop away to the
Warren.
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