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Ephraim Bond, the abominable moneylender and sportsman, was swaggering round town in Byron's later days; Crockford, that incarnate fiend, had his nets open; and ruined men men ruined body and soul left the gambling palace where the satanic spider sat spinning his webs.
John was not to be abashed by stern looks; but that glance might have abashed many a more experienced man. The glance of a squire upon a corn-law missionary, of a Crockford dandy upon a Regent Street tiger, could not have been more disdainful. "Tush!" said the pedestrian, rudely, and turned upon his heel. Percival coloured, and shall we own it? was boy enough to double his fist.
"Three to one against Trick, by Catton." "Carn't afford it the odds really arn't that in the ring." "Take two two hundred to one." "No." "Crockford, you'll do it for me?" "Yes, my lord. Twice over if you like. Done, done." "Do it again?" "No, thank you." "Trick, by Catton, don't start!" cries a voice. "Impossible!" exclaim his backers.
Tallente made only a monosyllabic reply, and Lady Jane, with a little gesture of apology, continued her conversation with Segerson. "I should like you," she directed, "to see James Crockford for yourself. Try and explain my views to him you know them quite well. I want him to own his land.
She was Ella Crockford, the wife of the Californian Street Sugar King, and, unknown to her husband, she spent her afternoons at a gambling saloon in Kearney Street, where she ran through thousands.
John was not to be abashed by stern looks; but that glance might have abashed many a more experienced man. The glance of a squire upon a corn-law missionary, of a Crockford dandy upon a Regent Street tiger, could not have been more disdainful. "Tush!" said the pedestrian, rudely, and turned upon his heel. Percival coloured, and shall we own it? was boy enough to double his fist.
"You'll find him in the living room," the woman answered curtly, with a stare at Lady Jane. "Here's himself." She retreated into the background. A man with flushed face, without collar or tie, clad in trousers and shirt only, had stepped out of the parlour. He stared at his visitors in embarrassment. "I came over to have a word or two with you on business, Mr. Crockford," Jane said coldly.
I ought not to omit to mention another celebrated bookie of that day; he was second only to Crockford himself, and was called "The Librarian." He was also known as "Billy Sims." Billy lived in St. James's Street, in a house which has long since been demolished, and thither people resorted to enjoy the idle, witty, and often scandalous gossip of the time.
It then transpired that Old Crockford was a village, and, from the appearance of the team on the day of battle, the Old Crockfordians seemed to be composed exclusively of the riff-raff of same. They wore green shirts with a bright yellow leopard over the heart, and C.F.C. woven in large letters about the chest.
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