rubbish!" Verelst resentfully exclaimed.

"No," Jones pursued. "The story was invented and the invention had a
reason. If you like, you may ask what it is."

"You seem to be very good at invention yourself. I shall ask nothing of
the kind."

"But you would like to know and I will tell you. It was invented to
delay a possible announcement. It could have had no other object."

"I said nothing of any announcement," Verelst angrily protested. "What
announcement are you talking about?"

"The heading of the filly for the sweepstakes. The expression--very
graphic by the way--is your own."

"Graphic or not I wish you would drop it. Besides----"

"Besides what?"

"Why, confound it, admitting the engagement, which I ought not to admit
for it is not out yet, why should he play for delay?"

"Ha!" exclaimed Jones, whom the spectacle of Paliser and Cassy sailing
up the Riverside had supplied with an impression or two. "I thought I
would interest you. He played for delay because he feared that if it
were known, a pitcher of ice-water might come dashing over it."

"Why do you say that?" asked Verelst, eager and anxious enough for a
spoke--if spoke there could be--to shove in a certain lady's wheels.

"Given the man and the deduction is easy."

The spoke was receding. Verelst, swallowing his disappointment,
retorted: "Incoherence is easy too."

"Well, you are right there," Jones, lighting another cigarette, replied.
"But there is nothing incoherent in the fact that fear is magnetic. What
we dread, we attract. If our winning young friend fears the pitcher, the
pitcher will probably land on him. That is the reason why, to vary your
various metaphors, I declared that there would be no downing on the
racecourse. On the contrary and look here. I will wager you not one
pippin or two pippins, I will go so far as to lay a whole basket that
Miss Austen becomes Mrs. Lennox."

Verelst sniffed. "You don't know her mother."

"No. I have not that honour. But I enjoy a bowing acquaintance with
logic."

"Do you, now? I wonder if it bows back. I'll book your bet."

"Very good. Make it fancy pippins."

Verelst stood up. "Fancy is the only term that could be applied them."

"And of such is the Kingdom of Heaven," Jones told himself as the old
man moved away.

He looked about. The great room had filled. Stocks, money, war, the
odour of alcohol, the smell of cigars, the rustling of evening papers,
the sound of animated talk about no