I think it was the Cup Day. It was fine overhead and hot, yet a charming day. The race for the Cup was next, and the ring was settling down to business. Suddenly, amidst the general uproar, a fine-sounding voice, true and melodious, was heard intoning what at first sounded to most people a church hymn. But it was not a church hymn. It was a new method of shouting out the odds, attracting attention to an exceedingly well-got-up gentleman in a grey frock suit, patent leather boots, white spats, grey gloves, tall white hat, and a flower in his buttonhole. A new bookmaker had made his appearance. He informed the crowds in song that he betted "only for cash," not "on the nod"--"I pay on the winner, immediately after the race." It only wanted an organ to accompany him. It was quite amusing to watch the remainder of his brethren in the ring. At first they looked about for the songster; then they laughed; and then set to work fairly to howl him down. It was no use; he managed somehow to make his dulcet notes heard. The new arrival before the end of the day was well known. His experiment had succeeded; it had been a first-class advertisement, and he gathered in many clients. He left Adelaide for the sister States. Some time afterwards an amusing story went the round of sporting circles. Whether true or not I know not. Here it is. The committee of one of the most important bookmakers' clubs in Australia had occasion to adjudicate on a charge laid against him for conduct which it was stated rendered him an undesirable member of the club, to the honorary membership of which he had been admitted. The committee, after inquiry, decided to request him to see them, inform him of the charge that had been made against him, ask him if he wished to refute it; if not, it was their intention to cancel his membership. His answer was reported to be as follows: "The charges made against me practically accuse me of behaving like a blackguard. Well, I can be a blackguard--probably a bigger one than any of you are or can be, but however that may be, there is one thing I can be, if I like, but which none of you can ever be, and that is a gentleman. Good morning; I am returning to England to-morrow." CHAPTER III THE RUSSIAN SCARE AND ITS RESULTS