at by now,
Mar."

He added, to assuage his wife, that Mr. Silver was going to stop with
them at The Sefton Arms.

"He's better than some," said the old lady almost vengefully.

"Now then, Mar-r-r!" cried the old man, "You're gettin' a reg'lar old
woman, you are."

When his wife had left the room in dudgeon:

"It's silly," grunted the trainer. "'Course she wants to be on the
course. It's only in Natur. It's her hoss, and her race. She ain't goin'
to run no risks. And I don't blame her neether. There's only one way o'
seein' a thing through as I've ever know'd, and that's seein' it through
yourself."

* * * * *

Mrs. Woodburn's good-bye to her daughter was cold as it was wistful.

At the garden-gate Boy turned and waved.

"Cheer, mum!" she cried.

Her mother, standing austerely on the steps of the house, did not
respond.

"I shall be back on Saturday," called the girl as she climbed into the
buggy.

* * * * *

That was on the Monday.

On that day Boy and Albert and Billy Bluff took the young horse north,
travelling all the way in his box.

At Euston it was evident something out of the way was forward. There was
hardly a crowd at the station, but expectant folk were gathered here and
there in knots and there were more police than usual about.

The secret was soon out.

Jaggers, with the air of the Grand Inquisitor, appeared on the platform
with his head-lad, Rushton. The trainer entered into talk with a man
whom Albert informed his mistress was a cop in plain clothes.

"Place swarms with 'em," the youth whispered. "And Ikey's Own. They're
takin' no chances."

In fact, Mocassin and her two stable-companions were travelling on the
same train as the Putnam horse.

As Albert remarked, not without complacency:

"One thing. If there's a smash we're all in it."

At Aintree the crowd, which somehow always knows, had gathered to see
the crack. They didn't see much but four chestnut legs and a long tail;
but what they saw was enough to satisfy them. You could swaddle her like
a corpse from muzzle to hocks, and from withers to fetlock, but the
Queen of Kentucky's walk was not to be mistaken. And as she came out of
her box on to the platform, treading daintily, the little gathering
raised the familiar slogan that told she was betrayed.

Boy let the favourite get well away before she unboxed her horse. There
was nobody about by then but a smal