oo late. Bertie turned to them, with a slight
wave of his hand, to sign them away.

"Don't trouble yourselves! It's nothing you could interfere in; take
care that person doesn't come into the betting ring again, that's all."

The Seraph, Lord Constantia, Wentworth, and may others of his set,
catching sight of the turmoil and of "Beauty," with the great square-set
figure of Ben Davis pressed before him through the mob, forced their way
up as quickly as they could; but before they reached the spot Cecil was
sauntering back to meet them, cool and listless, and a little bored with
so much exertion; his cheroot in his mouth, and his ear serenely deaf to
the clamor about the ditch.

He looked apologetically at the Seraph and the others; he felt some
apology was required for having so far wandered from all the canons of
his Order as to have approached "a row," and run the risk of a scene.

"Turf must be cleared of these scamps, you see," he said, with a half
sigh. "Law can't do anything. Fellow was trying to 'get on' with
the young one, too. Don't bet with those riff-raff, Berk. The great
bookmakers will make you dead money, and the little Legs will do worse
to you."

The boy hung his head, but looked sulky rather than thankful for his
brother's interference with himself and the welsher.

"You have done the Turf a service, Beauty--a very great service; there's
no doubt about that," said the Seraph. "Law can't do anything, as you
say; opinion must clear the ring of such rascals; a welsher ought not to
dare to show his face here; but, at the same time, you oughtn't to have
gone unsteadying your muscle, and risking the firmness of your hand at
such a minute as this, with pitching that fellow over. Why couldn't you
wait till afterward? or have let me do it?"

"My dear Seraph," murmured Bertie languidly, "I've gone in to-day
for exertion; a little more or less is nothing. Besides, welshers are
slippery dogs, you know."

He did not add that it was having seen Ben Davis taking odds with his
young brother which had spurred him to such instantaneous action with
that disreputable personage; who, beyond doubt, only received a tithe
part of his deserts, and merited to be double-thonged off every course
in the kingdom.

Rake at that instant darted, panting like a hot retriever, out of
the throng. "Mr. Cecil, sir, will you please come to the weights--the
saddling bell's a-going to ring, and--"

"Tell them to wait for me; I shall