Edgar Wallace

“ Lord Verlond showed his yellow teeth in a grin. “Where one picks up most of one’s undesirable acquaintances,” he said, “in the members’ enclosure. But racing is getting so damned respectable, Ikey, that a real top-notch undesirable is hard to meet. The last race-meeting I went to, what do you think I found? The tea-room crammed, you couldn’t get in at the doors; the bar empty. Racing is going to the dogs, Ikey.”
He was on his favourite hobby now, and Sir Isaac shifted uneasily, for the old man was difficult to divert when in the mood for reminiscent chatter. ”

“ He stood for a moment looking down on the baronet thoughtfully.
“Ikey,” he said, “I have noticed in you of late a disposition to look upon our mutual interests as something of which a man might be ashamed—I have struck an unexpected streak of virtue in you, and I confess that I am a little distressed.” ”

“ The Colonel sliced off the top of his egg without replying. Tramber knew the position in the City as well as he did.
“H’m,” said Sir Isaac, “we’ve got to get money from somewhere, Black.”
“What about your friend?” asked Colonel Black. He spoke carelessly, but the question was a well-considered one.
“Which friend?” asked Sir Isaac, with a hoarse laugh. “Not that I have so many that you need particularize any. Do you mean Verlond?” Black nodded. “Verlond, my dear chap,” said the baronet, “is the one man I must not go to in this world for money.”
“He is a very rich man,” mused Black. ”