ted a speck on the bosom of the flood that
poured into the waiting race train. He was tossed into a seat by
the swirling tide, and as the train moved he looked at his
fellow-passengers. There was a pleasant air of opulence all about him.
Gold chains of fair prominence, diamonds of lustrous hue, decorated the
always rotund figures. He fell to wondering why the men were all of a
gross physique; why did the ladies wear dresses of such interminable
variety of color; from whence came the money for this plethora of rich
apparel?

The race literature that had come Mortimer's way had generally dealt
with the unfortunate part of racing. Somehow he had got the impression
that everybody lost money at it. He was sure Alan Porter had, also the
father.

True, on the train were some bearing undeniable evidences of poverty;
but not many. One man of this latter unfortunate aspect sat next him.
His whole appearance was suggestive of the shady side of life. With the
industry of a student he pored over a disheveled sporting paper for half
an hour, then throwing it under the seat he cast a furtive look at his
neighbor, and presently said, "Dere'll be big fields to-day."

"That's too bad," Mortimer answered, through ignorance, thinking that
the other referred to perhaps a considerable walk across country to
reach the course.

"I like it," declared the man of sad drapery; "it means long odds if
you're next somethin' good."

Mortimer confined his remarks to a brief "Oh!" for the other man might
as well have been speaking Choctaw.

"Have you doped 'em out for de Derby?" asked the stranger.

Mortimer shook his head. Whatever it was it was connected with horse
racing, and he felt sure that he hadn't done it.

"Well, I'll tell you somethin'--will you put down a good bet if I steer
you straight?"

Mortimer was growing weary; his mind, troubled by the frightful disaster
that threatened Allis's family, wanted to draw within itself and ponder
deeply over a proper course of action; so he answered: "My dear sir, I'm
afraid you're mistaken. I never bet on races. But I thank you for your
kind offer."

The unwashed face looked at him in blank amazement, then it wrinkled in
a mirthful laugh of derision. "What d' 'ell you goin' to Gravesend
for, den? Blamed if I don't believe you dough--you look it. Say, is dat
straight goods--did you never have a bet in your life?"

"Never did."

"Well, I'm damned! Say, I believe you've got de best of it, do