Part 25 (1/2)

Journeying back to New York, Crane reviewed in detail his interview with Mrs. Porter. He congratulated himself upon his wisdom in having inst.i.tuted his love suit by proxy. With all his masterfulness he was very considerably in awe of Miss Allis. There was a not-to-be-daunted expression in her extraordinary eyes which made him feel that a love tilt with her would be a somewhat serious business. He pictured himself as an ardent lover; he would cut a droll figure in that role, he knew; emotions were hardly in his line. He might feel such an a.s.sertive emotion as love quite as strongly as anyone, in fact, did, but could he express himself with faultless consistency? He rather doubted it. His usual slow-advancing method was certainly ordained of this intricate endeavor; and he had made great progress with the mother, the one above all others to be placated; adversity, continuous as it promised to be, would probably settle Porter's influence in his favor. His plan of action plainly was to be often at Ringwood to familiarize the household with his presence. The acquiring of Diablo would facilitate that.

Diablo--a skate! He laughed to himself over his purchase. Certainly Langdon would laugh at him, too; not openly, of course; Crane wouldn't tolerate that. What an influence this girl had over him, to be sure! Any man who had endeavored to sell him a bad horse would have had a hopeless task; with but a nod of encouragement from Allis he would have bought every horse--all the useless crooks they had; the stable was full of them, Lauzanne among the rest.

The influence was dividing his nature into a dual one; starting into life infantile thoughts of a generous morality; an unrest of great vigor was coming to him, retribution; possibly the power to feel the difference between an avariciousness, fathering dishonesty, and this new recognition of other rights.

On his arrival in New York he sent for his trainer.

”I bought a horse at Ringwood. I want you to look after him, Langdon,”

he said. ”Their man, Gaynor, will send him direct to your stables.”

The Trainer's face brightened. ”Did you get Lucretia after all?”

”No; I bought a big black, Diablo.”

The look of delight faded from Langdon's eyes quickly. ”The devil!” he exclaimed.

”That's what I said; that's his name.”

”But he's the most uncertain brute that ever wore a set of plates.

You'll get no good of him, sir; he's bad, clean through. It's come down to him from his second sire, Robert the Devil, without a bit of the good, either. He'd break a man that would follow him.”

”He won't break me,” answered Crane, quietly; ”nor you, either, Langdon--you've got too much sense.”

This subtle tribute mollified the Trainer.

Crane proceeded: ”I remember the horse quite well. Four thousand was paid for him as a yearling; as a two-year-old he was tried out good enough to win the Futurity; but when it came to racing he cut it and finished in the ruck.”

”That's right,” commented Langdon. ”He owes me a good bit, that same Johnny; his people thought him a lead-pipe cinch, and I went down the line on him to my sorrow.”

”Just so. You know him as well as I do. It's a great way to get acquainted with them, isn't it, Langdon; put your money on, and have the good thing go down?”

Langdon had the highest possible opinion of his master's astuteness and began to waver in his antipathy to Diablo.

”You think he's really good, then, sir; did he show you a fast trial?”

”I didn't even see the horse,” Crane answered, looking dreamily out of the window. ”I bought him to--”

He paused in reflection; he couldn't tell Langdon why he had bought him, and he hardly cared to have his prestige with the Trainer destroyed. He continued, s.h.i.+fting the subject--matter a trifle, ”You did John Porter up over Lauzanne last summer, Langdon--”

”Me?” questioned 'the Trainer. Was Crane forgetting his share in the matter?

”Yes, you!” affirmed the other, looking him steadily in the eye. ”You sold him Lauzanne, and Lauzanne was loaded.”

Langdon said nothing. What the devil was coming?

”Well,” drawled Crane, ”Porter's badly hurt; he's out of the race for some time to come. They're friends of mine.”

”They're friends,” mused Langdon; ”who in thunder are they?”

”They're friends of mine, and I offered to buy Lauzanne back, just to help them out; but the old man's daughter has got the Chestnut for a hack, and she won't sell him. It was Diablo's fault that Porter got the fall, so they were willing to part with him, and I took the brute.”