Part 38 (1/2)

”Don't you think she'll win, sir?” Alan asked, emboldened by his employer's freedom of speech.

”I do not. My horse, The Dutchman, is almost certain to win, my trainer tells me.” Then he added, apologetic of his confidential mood, ”I tell you this, lest through loyalty to your own people you should lose your money. Racing, I fancy, is very uncertain, even when it seems most certain.”

Again Crane had cause to congratulate himself upon the somewhat clever manipulation of a difficult situation. He had scored again in his diplomatic love endeavor. He knew quite well that Allis's determined stand was only made possible by her expectation of gaining financial relief for her father through Lucretia's winning the Derby. Should she fail, they would be almost forced to turn to him in their difficulties.

That was what he wanted. He knew that the money won over Diablo, if accepted, must always be considered as coming from him. The gradual persistent dropping of water would wear away the hardest stone; he would attain to his wishes yet.

He was no bungler to attempt other than the most gently delicate methods.

XXIX

Encouraged by Jockey Redpath's explanation of his ride on Lucretia, Allis was anxious that Dixon should take the money her father had set aside for that purpose and back their mare for the Brooklyn Derby.

”We had better wait a day or two,” Dixon had advised, ”until we see the effect the hard gallop in the Handicap has had on the little mare. She ain't cleanin' up her oats just as well as she might; she's a bit off her feed, but it's only natural, though; a gallop like that takes it out of them a bit.”

It was the day after Crane's visit to Ringwood that Dixon advised Allis that Lucretia seemed none the worse for her exertion.

”Perhaps we'd better put the money on right away,” he said. ”She's sure to keep well, and we'll be forced to take a much shorter price race day.”

”Back the stable,” advised Allis, ”then if anything happens Lucretia we can start Lauzanne.”

The Trainer laughed in good-natured derision. ”That wouldn't do much good; we'd be out of the frying pan into the fire; we'd be just that much more money out for jockey an' startin' fees; he'd oughter been struck out on the first of January to save fifty dollars, but I guess you all had your troubles about that time an' wasn't thinkin' of declarations.”

”It may have been luck; if Lauzanne would only try, something tells me he'd win,” contended the girl.

”And somethin' tells me he wouldn't try a yard,” answered Dixon, in good-humored opposition. ”But I don't think it'll make no difference in the odds we get whether we back the stable or Lucretia alone; they won't take no stock in the Chestnut's prospects.”

So Dixon made a little pilgrimage among the pencilers. He was somewhat dismayed and greatly astonished that these gentry also had a somewhat rosy opinion of Lucretia's chances. Her good gallop in the Brooklyn Handicap had been observed by other eyes than Crane's. Ten to one was the best offer he could get.

Dixon was remonstrating with a bookmaker, Ulmer, when the latter answered, ”Ten's the best I'll lay--I'd rather take it myself; in fact, I have backed your mare because I think she's got a great chance; she'll be at fours race day. But I'll give you a tip--it's my game to see the owner's money on,” and he winked at the Trainer as much as to say, ”I'll feel happier about it if we're both in the same boat.”

”It'll be on, sure thing, if I can get a decent price.”

”Well, you go to Cherub Faust; he'll lay you longer odds. I put my bit on with him at twelve, see? If I didn't know that you an' Porter was always on the straight I'd a-thought there was somethin' doin', an'

Faust was next it, stretchin' the odds that way. How's the mare doin--is she none the worse?” Ullmer asked, a suspicious thought crossing his mind.

”We're backin' her--an' money talks,” said Dixon, with quiet a.s.surance.

”Well, Faust is wise to somethin'--he stands in with Langdon, an' I suppose they think they've got a cinch in The Dutchman. Yes, that must be it,” he added, reflectively; ”they made a killin' over Diablo, an'

likely they got a good line on The Dutchman through him in a trial.

But a three-year-old mare that runs as prominent in the big Handicap as Lucretia did, will take a lot of beatin. She's good enough for my money.”

Thanking him, Dixon found Faust, and asked of him a quotation against Porter's stable.

”Twelve is the best I can do,” answered the Cherub.

”I'll take fifteen to one,” declared Dixon.