Part 21 (1/2)
”Gold Hat!” echoed the Superintendent, with a chuckle of joy. ”Gold Hat! Now you say so, I can't make it look like anything else. A derby, upside down, with four----”
”Who's Maury?” insisted the Master.
”He's the original Man of Mystery,” returned the Superintendent, dropping his voice to exclude the constable. ”I wanted to get in touch with him about the delayed set of conditions. I looked him up. That is, I tried to. He is advertised in the premium list, as a New Yorker. You'll remember that, but his name isn't in the New York City Directory or in the New York City telephone book or in the suburban telephone book. He can afford to give a sixteen hundred dollar-cup for charity, but it seems he isn't important enough to get his name in any directory. Funny, isn't it? I asked Glure about him. That's all the good it did me.”
”You don't mean----?” began the Mistress, excitedly.
”I don't mean anything,” the Superintendent hurried to forestall her. ”I'm paid to take charge of this Show. It's no affair of mine if----”
”If Mr. Glure chooses to invent Hugh Lester Maury and make him give a Gold Hat for a collie prize?” suggested the Mistress. ”But----”
”I didn't say so,” denied the superintendent. ”And it's none of my business, anyhow. Here's----”
”But why should Mr. Glure do such a thing?” asked the Mistress, in wonder. ”I never heard of his shrinking coyly behind another name when he wanted to spend money. I don't understand why he----”
”Here is the conditions-list for the Maury Specialty Cup,” interposed the superintendent with extreme irrelevance, as he handed her a pink slip of paper. ”Glance over it.”
The Mistress took the slip and read aloud for the benefit of the Master who was still glowering at the Gold Hat:
”_Conditions of Contest for Hugh Lester Maury Gold Cup:_
”'_First.--No collie shall be eligible that has not already taken at least one blue ribbon at a licensed American or British Kennel Club Show._'”
”That single clause has barred out eleven of the sixteen entrants,”
commented the Superintendent. ”You see, most of the dogs at these local Shows are pets, and hardly any of them have been to Madison Square Garden or to any of the other A. K. C. shows. The few that have been to them seldom got a Blue.”
”Lad did!” exclaimed the Mistress joyfully. ”He took two Blues at the Garden last year; and then, you remember, it was so horrible for him there we broke the rules and brought him home without waiting for----”
”I know,” said the Superintendent, ”but read the rest.”
”'_Second_,'” read the Mistress. ”'_Each contestant must have a certified five-generation pedigree, containing the names of at least ten champions._' Lad had twelve in his pedigree,” she added, ”and it's certified.”
”Two more entrants were killed out by _that_ clause,” remarked the Superintendent, ”leaving only three out of the original sixteen. Now go ahead with the clause that puts poor old Lad and one other out of the running. I'm sorry.”
”'_Third_,'” the Mistress read, her brows crinkling and her voice trailing as she proceeded. ”'_Each contestant must go successfully through the preliminary maneuvers prescribed by the Kirkaldie a.s.sociation, Inc., of Great Britain, for its Working Sheepdog Trials._'--But,” she protested, ”Lad isn't a 'working' sheepdog! Why, this is some kind of a joke! I never heard of such a thing--even in a Specialty Show.”
”No,” agreed the Superintendent, ”nor anybody else. Naturally, Lad isn't a 'working' sheepdog. There probably haven't been three 'working' sheepdogs born within a hundred miles of here, and it's a mighty safe bet that no 'working' sheepdog has ever taken a 'Blue' at an A. K. C. Show. A 'working' dog is almost never a show dog. I know of only one either here or in England; and he's a freak--a miracle. So much so, that he's famous all over the dog-world.”
”Do you mean Champion Lochinvar III?” asked the Mistress. ”The dog the Duke of Hereford used to own?”
”That's the dog. The only----”
”We read about him in the _Collie Folio_,” said the Mistress. ”His picture was there, too. He was sent to Scotland when he was a puppy, the _Folio_ said, and trained to herd sheep before ever he was shown. His owner was trying to induce other collie-fanciers to make their dogs useful and not just Show-exhibits. Lochinvar is an international champion, too, isn't he?”
The Superintendent nodded.
”If the Duke of Hereford lived in New Jersey,” pursued the Mistress, trying to talk down her keen chagrin over Lad's mishap, ”Lochinvar might have a chance to win a nice Gold Hat.”
”He has,” replied the superintendent. ”He has every chance, and the only chance.”
”_Who_ has?” queried the puzzled Mistress.