Doug Savage was furious. According to his way of thinking, he had been robbed of two pounds. He took a folded five-pound note from the fob pocket of his trousers, and handed it to the stakeholder, who uncreased it reverently.
“I’ll head ’em for a fiver,” Doug rasped, and glared at Lolly. The challenge was obvious and, to those men standing around, it was rightfully given. Lolly had to accept it, or be considered a timorous man. He simply nodded, and gave five pounds to the stakeholder.
Doug was a skillful tosser. He threw, and “headed ’em” at the first attempt.
“Leave it in the ring,” he said to the stakeholder, and he looked at Jakes.
Lolly nodded again, and fumbled in his trousers pocket. He brought out a small handful of pound notes, and counted off ten for the stakeholder.
Doug threw again, and won. “Leave it,” he said, grinning widely now. Everyone waited to see what Lolly would do. They did not have to wait long. He was counting off twenty pounds for the stakeholder.
Doug won again, and laughed in exultation. He was a good gambler who would ride with his luck, and he had a great contempt for men who grew cautious or timid when they were winning, only to plunge wildly to regain losses when the luck was against them.
“Leave it,” he said confidently. There were forty pounds in the ring, only five of which had belonged to him. He looked around at the spectators, because he did not think that Lolly would have a further forty pounds with which to gamble. But the men waited. They also thought that Lolly would be unable to “cover” the bet, but they expected that he would partly cover it with what money he had.
Lolly did indeed give the impression that he was nearly at the end of his financial resources. He was fishing in his match pocket and bringing out folded fivers one at a time, and handing them, one at a time, to the stakeholder. The stakeholder unfolded each one, and solemnly counted.
“Seven… Eight,” he said. “Eight fives is forty. Your bet’s covered, Doug.”
In the face of such determination Doug began to look serious. But neither his luck nor his skill was affected, because he tossed and won again.
“Eighty quid!” he cried exuberantly. “Oh boy, rags to riches!”
It was obvious that he intended to leave the money in the ring, but the spectators again waited to see what Lolly would do. Bill Bragg stared at him blankly, with his mouth open. That was a fairly normal expression for all occasions. He was greatly excited by the betting, but he was incapable of showing his excitement.
“Come on, come arn!” Doug urged the “school.”
“Put your money on the drum. You come in rags and go away in Rolls-Royces.”
Lolly Jakes showed no disappointment. His face was stolid, though his little eyes glinted. He began to fumble in his trousers pocket again, but someone who had appeared at his side put a hand on his arm to arrest the action of bringing out money. The newcomer was Laurie Lovett, who had been standing quietly in the crowd. Also from the crowd Clogger Roach appeared, and he looked at Jakes with hostility.
It occurred to Bragg, and to other men standing near, that Jakes had been gambling with money which did not belong to him. It was a reasonable conclusion. Jakes had been at various times a runner for any small-time bookmaker who would employ him. It looked as if he had found another employer, and that he was now wagering money which had been entrusted to him to pay out some people who had betted successfully on yesterday’s racing. If it were his own money, there seemed to be no reason for Laurie Lovett to interfere.
Aware of listeners, Lovett said in a low, hard voice: “Don’t be a fool, Lolly. You’ve lost enough. You’re backing your bad luck. Play small till it changes.”
“I’m not going to let this big swaggering sod get away with my money,” was the dogged reply.
“You can’t afford to cover him again,” said Lovett. “I tell you, you can’t afford it!”
“I can afford it one more time.”
“All right,” said Lovett. “But remember, it’s your own neck.” To those who listened that sounded like an entirely natural remark. If Jakes were gambling away the money of other gamblers, it was his own neck which he was putting in peril. He ran the risk of getting it cut with a razor as sharp as his own. Therefore they were not surprised when he in his turn began to look worried.
“You’re right, Laurie,” he replied with sudden meekness, because he also was aware of listeners. “I can’t cover it again. I were only goin’ ter try an’ frighten him. I’ll just put a fiver on till my luck changes.”
Lolly placed his bet, and the stakeholder said: “All right then. Who’s bettin’ agen’ this eighty nicker? Make yer bets up inter fivers an’ tenners, then I can remember who’s who.”
One man, a bookmaker, gave the stakeholder twenty pounds as an individual bet. The one-pound gamblers made themselves into small temporary syndicates and handed in £5 and £10 bets. Each man knew the members of his own syndicate, and there could be no cheating or confusion at the pay-off. The sum of £80 was quickly made up.
“Right,” said the stakeholder, and the putter-on stepped forward with the two halfpennies. Doug threw, and once more he headed the coins at the first attempt. There was now £160 in the ring.
“Leave it,” said Doug. “I’ll skin the lot of you.”
The bookmaker immediately increased his bet to £40, but money from the small gamblers came in more slowly this time. In the opinion of many, Doug was “set” to head the coins eight or nine times. They noted his confidence. He was in luck. They preferred not to bet against him until he was nearing the end of his run.
The stakeholder raised only £95 to meet Doug’s £160. “Only ninety-five,” he said. “Yer all windy. One man is flayin’ the lot on yer.”
Bill Bragg, who had lost his original stake and another pound as well, withheld his bet this time. He was one of those who believed that Doug would make one or two more successful throws. He stood aside to make room for those who wanted to bet, and he heard Lolly Jakes mutter, as if to himself, that Doug would never succeed in heading the coins another time. He was also surprised to see that Lolly was pulling a really big wad of money from his pocket.
Other bystanders were no longer interested in Lolly. He had had his moment. Only Bragg saw the fistful of money. Bragg, and the two men who were watching Lolly-Laurie Lovett and Clogger. They closed in on him.
“Put it away, man!” Laurie whispered fiercely. “Have you gone wrong in your head?”
Lolly scowled at him, and in doing so he met the fanatical glare of Clogger: Clogger, the frenzied adherent of a cause, the cause being Clogger’s welfare. That wild angry look daunted Lolly, not because he was afraid of the man but because he knew that the anger was justified.
“So help me,” Clogger whispered. “I’ll stop yer if I have to knife yer.”
Lolly made no reply, but he thrust the half-extracted money back into his pocket and turned to watch the gambling with little hooded eyes.
Doug Savage threw, and lost. The stakeholder paid out the winners, and gave the innkeeper the £65 which remained.
Doug gave him a five-pound note. “Sixty quid isn’t so bad,” he said. “I think I’ll call it a day. My luck turned on that last throw.”
His obvious self-satisfaction enraged Jakes. He turned in fury upon Roach and Lovett.
“But for your interference I’d a-won me money back, an’ that sod would a-won nowt,” he snarled in a whisper. “God rot yer!”
The other two did not reply. But they were united in disapproval of his conduct and they met his scowl coldly.