as if he'd been speculating in mud," said Mr Medlock,
pointing to the unfortunate overseer's collar and hat, which still bore
traces of his recent calamity. "Never mind; we'll wash it off in the
Bodega. Come along."

Durfy felt rather shy at first in his grand company, especially with the
consciousness of his muddy collar. But after about half an hour in the
Bodega he recovered his self-possession, and felt himself at home.

"By the way," said Mr Medlock, filling up his visitor's glass, "last
time we saw you you did us nicely over that tip for the Park Races, my
boy! If Alf and I hadn't been hedged close up, we should have lost a
pot of money."

"I'm very sorry," said Durfy. "You see, another telegram came after the
one I showed you, that I never saw; that's how it happened. I really
did my best for you."

"But it's a bad job, if we pay you to get hold of the _Rocket's_
telegrams and then lose our money over it," said Mr Medlock. "Never
mind this time, but you'd better look a little sharper, my boy. There's
the Brummagem Cup next week, you know, and we shall want to know the
latest scratches on the night before. It'll be worth a fiver to you if
you work it well, Durfy. Fill up your glass."

Mr Durfy obeyed, glad enough to turn the conversation from the
miscarriage of his last attempt to filch his employers' telegrams for
the benefit of his betting friends' and his own pocket.

"By the way," said Mr Shanklin, presently, "Moses and I have got a
little Company on hand just now, Durfy. What do you think of that?"

"A company?" said Mr Durfy; "I'll wager it's not a limited one, if
you're at the bottom of it! What's your little game now?"

"It's a little idea of Alf's," said Mr Medlock, whose Christian name
was Moses, "and it ought to come off too. This is something the way of
it. Suppose you were a young greenhorn, Durfy--which I'm afraid you
aren't--and saw an advertisement in the _Rocket_ saying you could make
two hundred and fifty pounds a year easy without interfering with your
business, eh? what would you do?"

"If I was a greenhorn," said Durfy, "I'd answer the advertisement and
enclose a stamped envelope for a reply."

"To be sure you would! And the reply would be, we'd like to have a look
at you, and if you looked as green as we took you for, we'd ask for a
deposit, and then allow you to sell wines and cigars and that sort of
fancy goods to your friends. You'd sell a dozen of port at sixty