the stable remains, and, whether the jockey is a rogue or passably
honest, he remains a stable-boy to the end. Half the mischief on the
Turf arises from the way in which these overpaid, spoilt menials can be
bribed, and, certes, there are plenty of bribers ready. Racing men do
not seem able to shake off the rule of their stunted tyrants. When the
gentleman who paid income-tax on nine thousand a year brought the action
which secured him the contemptuous verdict, the official handicapper to
the Jockey Club declared on oath that the jockey's character was "as bad
as bad can be." The starter and a score of other witnesses followed in
the same groove, and yet this man was freely employed. Why? We may
perhaps explain by inference presently.

With this cynically corrupt corps of jockeys and their hangers-on, it
may easily be seen that the plutocrats who manipulate the Turf wires
have an admirable time of it, while the great gaping mob of zanies who
go to races, and zanies who stay at home, are readily bled by the
fellows who have the money and the "information" and the power. The rule
of the Turf is easily formulated:--"Get the better of your neighbour.
Play the game outwardly according to fair rules. Pay like a man if your
calculations prove faulty, but take care that they shall be as seldom
faulty as possible. Never mind what you pay for information if it gives
you a point the better of other men. Keep your agents honest if you can,
but, if they happen to be dishonest under pressure of circumstances,
take care at any rate that you are not found out." In short, the Ring is
mainly made up of men who pay with scrupulous honesty when they lose,
but who take uncommonly good care to reduce the chances of losing to a
minimum. Are they in the wrong? It depends. I shall not, at the present
moment, go into details; I prefer to pause and ask what can be expected
to result from the wolfish scheme of Turf morality which I have
indicated. I do not compare it with the rules which guide our host of
commercial middlemen, because, if I did, I should say that the betting
men have rather the best of the comparison: I keep to the Turf, and I
want to know what broad consequences must emanate from a body which
organizes plans for plunder and veils them under the forms of honesty.
An old hand--the Odysseus of racing--once said to me: "No man on earth
would ever be allowed to take a hundred thousand pounds out of the Ring:
they wouldn't allow it, th