"THIS ENGLAND"

THE PKECAKIOTJS GAME

RACING STUDIES

. VII. (By Edgar Wallace.)

A pretty little house on the Bury road, every wall or every room covered with paintings—there is a Greuze in my bedroom, and I sleep on a noble bed designed for Royalty. Raphael looks down upon me in the dining-room as I eat real Yorkshire ; pudding—the host comes from that county. And Ydrkshire pudding served as a course and eaten solemnly— and what Yorkshire pudding! Not the custardy stuff that London cooks prepare; not the thin slither of yellow pastry that cracks down on your plate at the fashionable restaurant.. But Yorkshire pudding. The host is a burly gentleman; the other guest is a dapper, shrewd man from France. "I saw that horse this morning—you' shouldn't let him run loose. ... I never saw a horse more improved, and if he has any luck they can't keep him out of the first three." He was talking of Asterus, who occupied that position in the Cambridgeshire. It was rather a depressing week for host, for the betting tax was due next Monday, ana he -s a professional backer of horses. - A gambler? Not exactly—in the ' Monte Carlo sense. You see, racing, from the professional backer's point of view, is a business. You can reduce a field of thirty-sevefi runners to four ox five, and can say. nearly with.certainty: "One of these five will win." You cannot sit at a table at Monte Carlo ana be assured that, of the thirty-seven numbers, one of five will turn np. That is the difl'erence between racing and gambling. If you take black and red and gamble on one or the other, there is nothing to prevent red and black coming up alternately; but if you"-, match Coronach figainst a selling plater in twenty races, it is definitely certain, bar accidents, that Coronach will win every time. •■

• You can make mistakes, of course Arthur (as I-will call him) climbed up to the stand as the horses were at the post. "Have you. made a bet?" He nodded. "I've got twenty-eight hundred pounds on Adam's . Apple," he said, "and, having seen him go to the post, I think I've lost my money." Something had happened to Adam's Apple. He was beaten, and well beaten, and returned to the paddock with peculiar symptoms, to which the attention of the stewards was drawn. Arthur knew he was beaten before tho field came to the dip. "I've lost," he said in a conversational tone, and asked me whether I had slepf well on the previous night. There was no emotion, m> hectic reviling of horse and jockey. 'He had lost— that was all. If he had won, he would still have asked me if I had slept well. He won a thousand on the last race, and finished tho day losing £1300. "I havo turned over as much as two millions in a year—my winnings on balance were not very considerable. If I had paid a tax of 2 per cent. I should have lost £20,000 on the year! " He goes to the South of France regularly, but the tables never sco him. One of his friends complained that he had lost £5000 in six weeks. "You haven't," said Arthur promptly. Indignantly the friend produces liis pass-book. "Still you haven't lest," said Arthur, and proved it. The man had been playing regularly, and from every coup tho 'Casino had extracted its little tax. Tho friend sat down and worked out roughly how much tho Casino authorities had taken £8000. "You've won three thousand—congratulations! " said Arthur sardoiiieally That 2 por cent, tax has mado betting impossible for him, and ho argues that racing will bo made impossible for the masses. Tho "same principles apply whether a man bets in shillings or thousands.

"Kitty" is draining stoadily. With every twenty-fivo bets tho stako is absorbed to the St-.to. Politically, the result will be interesting, to see. For some reason racing folk are. conservative in politics—even tho smaller fry

to have passed the judge in a line. He knew that I had backed one, which in my judgment was third. "Yours has won for a fiver!" he said, but I didn't bet. I knew that he must be right. And I was wise in my generation, for the horse I had backed had won by a head. Arthur seldom bets on handicaps—it must be a weight-for-age race or nothing. What does a man like that do with the money he wins? He took me in his car to a place beyond Dullingham, and introduced, me to his new stud farm. They were ploughing the far field, and bricklayers were already at work laying the first courses !of his new boxes. This untidy field was to hold three paddocks—that stretch of grass land was for the yearlings. His sire, the pride of his eyes, was coming here, and he was very confident about the future. "I put all my money back into racing—this side of racing. I have just sold my old stud farm—l think this is a better one." I spoke well of his stallion, one of the grandest looking horses i have ever seen at stud. "This is where the gambling comes in-," he said. "That horse should have won the ■ Stakes at Goodwood, but was left at the post. He could have won pulling up, and his fee at stud would have been somewhere in the region of ~8 guineas. As it is, I am giving subscriptions for nine guineas—it is the only way I can 'prove'- him. He'll sire great horses, that is certain. Look at his legs! The hardest thing

to breed out of a horse is bad legs, and yet breeders send their valuable mares quite gaily to broken-down animals and pay 198 guineas for the privilege." I watched the big tractors steaming away on tho far field,and turning the dirty green into rich black earth, and seemed to be very far away from the precarious game. And yet it is all part of.it. All round were cottages occupied by families that lived on horseracing, though they themselves may never have seen the colours on a horse. The' ploughman and tho tractor men, the hedgers, and bricklayers.

A smart-looking man in gaiters enme across tho soon-to-be paddocks. "I've just been looking at that mare's pedigree, Mr. A . She's got two close crosses to Galopin. ..." Tho stud groom brings you nearer to the track. Yet he is not passionately interested in tho actualities of racing. Driving back, Arthur indicated tho points of interest in the landscape. "Captain Cuttle stands over there, and ..." He named in rapid succession a dozen famous names. Newmarket again. The main street blocked with hackney carriages and char-a-bancs, and the pavements thronged with nowspaper sellers and purveyors of raco cards; all tho world flocking up to the Heath, and the air vibrating with tips. And a little later: "I'll take you six hundred to four twice!" The tapes aro up, and tho huge field is on its way home. Thousands of raceglasses nro levelled on the silken jackets. And then, as the field comes down Bushes Hill, a bookmaker airs liis opinion. "I'll lay five hundred to two, Sea Girt!"