The sporting chance

								

ambition of his life to win the Derby.  He had tried many times and
failed, but on the present occasion it looked as if he stood a good
chance, for Hipponous had won the Middle Park Plate and was second
favourite in the betting.
Sir Roderick stood up on the box, his back turned to the course, and
made a little speech to his guests.  Lady Lempiere, who had occupied
the place of honour by his side, and to whom his first remark had
been addressed, turned too, as in duty bound.  She was a well-known
society dame, no longer young but still reputed for her beauty as
well as for her success upon the turf.  She fixed her eyes, which
were blue and liquid and full of expression, upon Major Molyneux, who
sat directly behind her, and who--or so her eyes seemed to say--might
soon be by her side.  He was her accepted cavalier, and it was an
understood thing that wherever Lady Lempiere was asked Major Molyneux
must also receive his invitation.
"I want you all to understand that ceremony is a non-starter to-day,"
thus spoke Sir Roderick, "and this is to be a go-as-you-please race
for all of you.  There's lunch on the coach for any one at any time
it's asked for, and the ice will give out before the wine does,
though we've got a hundredweight on board.  Bring as many of your
friends as you like; there's enough for all.  Don't worry about me: I
shall probably be in the House--I mean the Paddock"--he corrected
himself with a broad smile--"a place where I'm more in my element,
and occasionally get listened to."  He drew a deep breath as of
relief at a duty performed.  "Since I'm not at Westminster," he
added, "I needn't talk for an hour when all I have to say is just
comprised in two words: good luck!"
The little speech was greeted with laughter and applause, applause in
which none was so vociferous as an individual with a bibulous red
face and a white beard, who had the carefully fostered appearance of
a military man.  This was Captain Armitage, and he occupied the back
seat together with Mostyn Clithero, Pierce Trelawny, and a fourth
man, Anthony Royce by name, who from his manner rather than his
speech gave the impression of being an American.
"I wonder," whispered Mostyn to his friend, "what makes the captain
so particularly demonstrative?"
"The idea that he'll soon get a drink, I expect," was the answer,
spoken in an undertone, although Captain Armitage had turned his back
and was airily waving his hand to his daughter, Rada, who sat on the
front seat, pretending to listen with interest to the conversational
inanities of young Lord Caldershot.
"I guess you're right there," commented Mr. Royce, his sides shaking
with silent laughter.  He had a way of laughing inwardly and without
any apparent reason that was rather disconcerting till one was
accustomed to it; it gave the impression that he was possessed of a
peculiarly selfish sense of humour.  He was an Englishman by birth,
though for the last twenty years he had made his home in the States,