Part 8 (1/2)

”But your son.”

”He had a small bet; I didn't know that, even, until they were running.”

”Did you tell him not to back Lucretia, for he did Lauzanne?”

”I told him not to bet at all.”

”And you played the mare yourself?”

For answer Porter showed the Steward his race programme, on which was written the wager he had made on Lucretia, and the bookmaker's name.

”Ask Ullmer to bring his betting sheet,” the Steward said to an a.s.sistant.

On the sheet, opposite John Porter's badge number, was a bet, $10,000 to $4,000, in the Lucretia column.

”Did this gentleman make that bet with you?” the Steward asked of Ullmer.

”He carries the number; besides I know Mr. Porter, I remember laying it to him.”

”Thank you, that will do. Hit you pretty hard,” he said, turning to Porter. ”And you hadn't a saver on Lauzanne?”

”Not a dollar.”

”What about your buying him--is there anything in that story?”

Porter explained the purchase. The Steward nodded his head.

”They seem to have been pretty sure of winning, those other people,”

he commented; ”but we can't do anything to them for winning; nor about selling you the horse, I fear; and as far as you're concerned, Lucretia was supposed to be trying. Who gave your jockey orders?”

”Dixon. I don't interfere; he trains the horses.”

”We'd like to have Dixon up here again for a minute. I'm sorry we've had to trouble you, Mr. Porter; I can see there is not the slightest suspicion attaches to you.”

In answer to the Steward's query about the order to McKay, Dixon said: ”I told McKay the boss had a big bet down, and to make no mistake--no Grand Stand finish for me. I told him to get to the front as soon as he could, and stay there, and win by as far as he liked. I got the office that there'd be somethin' doin' in the race, an' I told him to get out by himself.”

After Dixon was dismissed, the Stewards consulted for a minute, with the result that McKay was suspended for the balance of the meeting, pending a further investigation into his methods.

During the carpeting of Porter and Dixon, a sea of upturned faces, furrowed by lines of anxious interest, had surrounded the Judge's box.

Wave on wave the living waters reached back over the gra.s.sed lawn to the betting ring. An indefinable feeling that something was wrong had crept into the minds of the waiting people, tense with excitement.

As the horses had flashed past the post, and, after a brief wait for decision, Lauzanne's number had gone up, his backers had hastened eagerly to the money mart, and lined up in waiting rows behind the bookmakers' stands. There they waited, fighting their impatient souls into submission, for the brief wait would end in the acquiring of gold.

Why did not the stentorian-voiced crier send through the ring the joyful cry of ”All right!” The minutes went by, and the delay became an age.

A whisper vibrated the throng, as a breeze stirs slender branches, that the winner had been disqualified--that there had been an objection.

First one dropped out of line; then another; one by one, until all stood, an army of expectant speculators, waiting for the verdict that had its birthplace up in that tiny square building, the Stewards' Stand.

”It's over the pulling of Lucretia,” a man said, simply to relieve his strained feelings.