Blind Policy

“It means a big stroke, Orthur. I’ve got the tip, and if you and me’s got the pluck to do it we’re made men.”

“Oh, we’ve got the pluck,” said the footman, huskily. “What’s the ’orse?”

“Not a horse at all, my lad. It’s a company. They’re working it to rights, and I’ve found out all about it, Orthur. I’ve seen the letters. They’re going to blow the thing up full of wind, and buy up all the shares they can. Then when the thing’s at the height, they sell, and make thousands.”

“Phew!” whistled the footman.

“S’pose we make a couple o’ thou, a-piece; that’s better than backing horses.”

“Yes; but could we?”

“Don’t they, my lad? Isn’t all this place run that way? Why shouldn’t we do it as well as them? They ain’t so precious clever after all.”

“Not as I see,” said the younger man, contemptuously.

“Then what do you say? Shall we venture?”

“I’m on,” said Arthur, eagerly. “How much does it want?”

“Two hundred a-piece. How much have you got?”

The footman gave him a curious look, and then said drily —

“Nothing at all.”

“Why, you don’t mean to say you’ve spent all we’ve made, Arthur?”

“Every penny. Haven’t you?”

The butler was silent, and frowned; but his companion followed up his question.

“Well, why don’t you answer a fellow?”

“I haven’t exactly spent it, Orthur,” said the butler at last, coughing to clear his voice.

“Well, what have you done with it?”

“’Orses.”

“Without saying a word to me?”

“Well, I didn’t know I was bound to tell you everything, Orthur.”

“Well, I did; and it serves you right. If you’d gone by my advice and taken my tips you’d ha’ won.”

“Yes, it was a mistake,” said the butler, humbly. “I was tempted to have just one little flutter on my own account, Orthur.”

“Well, don’t you do it again. That’s worse than giving the gals presents, old man. Then I suppose it will have to be your uncle again?”

“Yes, Orthur; but it’s a pity we couldn’t manage about a key for that door.”

“Ah! it is; but it ain’t to be done, only with a big hammer and wedges, I’m afraid. I’m trying still, though, to get a key made, and it may turn up trumps. Never mind; raise something on what you can take.”

“But it won’t be enough, my boy.”

“Never mind; let’s do what we can. A little’s more than none. Half a loaf’s better than no bread, old man.”

“Very well, my boy; I’ll take what I can to-night.”

“I say, you’re sure this’ll turn out all right?”

“Certain. It’s as safe as safe. I’ll make him let me have a little more – put something else up – and then we’ll take all the shares we can get.”

“And about selling out at the right time?”

“You leave that to me,” said the butler, smiling confidently. “Look here.”

He took out a letter and held it to his companion, who read it with his face lighting up, and clapped it back in the butler’s hands.

“That’s right, isn’t it?” said Roach.

“Splendid, old man. But stop; why, that’s your writing.”

“Of course it is; I copied it.”

“Oh, I see. Well, then, that’s all right. Go on ahead.”

“But I wish it wasn’t that centre-piece again. I’m always afraid of its being wanted.”

“Oh, it won’t be wanted,” said the footman, impatiently.

“If you could only have managed about that key.”

“Well, give me time. I say, that was a narrow squeak, when the old woman nearly caught us.”

“Yes, it was horrible,” said the butler, wiping his forehead. “Fancy her telling Jemmy, and him sending for us to come up in the lib’ry afore the lot of them!”

“Easy enough for him to send,” said the footman, with a grin, “but it would have taken a lot of pulling to get us there.”

“Yes, Orthur, my boy, the game would have been up.”

“And before we’d made our pile, old man. There, you want a glass of wine to pull you together. You mustn’t go and see our dear old relative looking like that.”

“No,” said Roach, brightening up; “that would not do, Orthur. The old woman did not find us out.”

“I held the door too fast for her, and a miss is as good as a mile, eh, guv’nor? I say, old man, don’t you think we might wet it?”

The butler smiled blandly.