CHAPTER XII
A RACE AGAINST TIME
There's a certain old Sprinter; you've got to be keen,
If you'd beat him—although he is bald,
And he carries a clock and a mowing-machine.
On the cinderpath "Tempus" he's called.
Stanza written to order by young English friend,
but (I fear) copied from Poet Tennyson.
AH! with what perfervid affection did Mr Bhosh caress the neck of his precious horse! How carefully he searched her to make sure that she had sustained no internal poisonings or other dilapidations!
Thank goodness! He was unable to detect any flaw within or without—the probability being that the crafty Duchess did not dare to commit such a breach of decorum as to poison a Derby favourite, and thought to accomplish her fell design by leaving the mare as lost luggage and destroying the ticket-receipt.
