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Copley did not appear to be so busy as he had professed when he dismissed Fielden so unceremoniously. He lighted a fresh cigar and sat down moodily over a mass of accounts. He pushed these aside presently, and took up a copy of the _Sportsman_, which he proceeded to read with a perplexed frown on his moody face.
"I cannot for the life of me understand it," he muttered. "The trial was fair and square, and I see no reason why the boy's information was not to be relied upon. But that colt is more firmly established in the betting than ever. I can't recollect anything like it. It seemed a dead sure thing to lay that money against the horse. And, yet, though I laid over ten thousand pounds against him, in this morning's paper he is at a shorter price than before. Well, if the public like to be such fools, it's their look-out, not mine. Still, it's unpleasant. I wonder if Foster has learnt anything this morning."