‘Well, I was there. Pure chance; haven’t been at that kind of place for a year and more. It was a match for the Sprint Championship and a hundred pounds. Timed for six o’clock, but at a quarter past the chaps hadn’t come forward. I heard men talking, and guessed there was something wrong; they thought it a put-up job. When it got round that there’d be no race, the excitement broke out, and then--I’d have given something for you to see it! First of all there was a rush for the gate-money; a shilling a piece, you know, we’d all paid. There were a whole lot of North-of-England chaps, fellow countrymen of mine, and I heard some of them begin to send up a roar that sounded dangerous. I was tumbling along with the crowd, quite ready for a scrimmage--I rather enjoy a fight now and then,--and all at once some chap sang out just in front, ‘Let’s burst up the blooming show!’--only he used a stronger word. And a lot of us yelled hooray, and to it we went. I don’t mean I had a hand in the pillaging and smashing,--it wouldn’t have done for a man just starting in business to be up at the police-court,--but I looked on and laughed--laughed till I could hardly stand! They set to work on the refreshment place. It was a scene if you like! Fellows knocking off the heads of bottles, and drinking all they could, then pouring the rest on the ground. Glasses and decanters flying right and left,--sandwiches and buns, and I don’t know what, pelting about. They splintered all the small wood they could lay their hands on, and set fire to it, and before you could say Jack Robinson the whole place was blazing. The bobbies got it pretty warm--bottles and stones and logs of wood; I saw one poor chap with the side of his face cut clean open. It does one good, a real stirring-up like that; I feel better to-day than for the last month. And the swearing that went on! It’s a long time since I heard such downright, hearty, solid swearing. There was one chap I kept near, and he swore for a full hour without stopping, except when he had a bottle at his mouth; he only stopped when he was speechless with liquor.’ ‘I wish I’d been there,’ said Miss. French gaily. ‘It must have been no end of fun.’ ‘A right down good spree. And it wasn’t over till about eight o’clock. I stayed till the police had cleared the grounds, and then came home, laughing all the way. It did me good, I tell you!’ ‘Well, shall we go and see the lawyer?’ suggested Beatrice. ‘Right you are.--Have a drink first? Nice quiet place round in Fleet Street--glass of wine. No? As you please, old chum.--Think this shop ‘ll do, don’t you? You must come round when it’s finished. But I daresay you’ll be here many a time--on biz.’ ‘Oh, I daresay.’ And as they went down the stairs, Crewe laughed again at his recollections of yesterday’s sport. CHAPTER 6