"Look at that!" Bertie glanced at the London telegram tossed across to him, sent from a private and confidential agent.
"Betting here--two to one on L'Etoile; Irish Roan offered and taken freely.

Slight decline in closing prices for the King; getting on French bay rather heavily at midnight.

Fancy there's a commission out against the King.

Looks suspicious." Cecil shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows a little.
"All the better for us.

Take all they'll lay against me.