mbly. "I don't know how it was done.
Ah, that there Raffle is a deep 'un. I made sure as the trial the other
morning was all open and above board, and now I find as how it wasn't
the Blenheim colt we saw at all. It is no use asking me to explain,
gentlemen, and it is no use bullying me, for the more you do that the
more muddled I get. It is only a word or two I 'eard between Raffle and
the 'ead lad that put me on the scent. We've got two or three 'osses in
the stable as like the Blenheim colt as two peas. They are nearly all
the same blood, you know. What old Raffle is a-driving at, I dunno. But
it looks as if one colt was changed for another at the last moment, and
nobody would have been any the wiser if I hadn't 'eard that little
conversation this blessed morning."

Copley and Foster exchanged glances. It was no use to scarify the boy,
for the conspiracy was none of his making, and he was obviously telling
the truth; indeed, he had been well paid to bring information to Copley
and had nothing to gain by further deception. But what was the meaning
of it all? Why had Raffle chosen to bring off a mock trial? So far as
Copley knew, Raffle had no reason to suspect the honesty of the stable
boy. He could not know that he was in Copley's pay, nor could he have
known, either, that Copley and Foster would witness that early morning
trial. Could it be that there was some one else in the field whom Raffle
wished to deceive? At any rate, whether that was so or not, Joe Raffle
had put both Copley and his accomplice in a hole. After witnessing the
trial they had laid against the colt to an enormous amount, and, after
all, Sir George Haredale's horse might win the Derby. They dismissed
the boy with strict injunctions to keep his eyes open and let them know
the latest developments. Then they talked the matter over to see if they
could find some way out of the trouble.

"It's a bit of a facer," Copley muttered. "I am bound to confess I never
expected anything like this. I wonder what that old fox Raffle was
driving at? Whom is he trying to deceive? I'd give something to know."

"What does it matter?" Foster asked impatiently. "Wilfully or not, he
has deceived us. As I figure it out, we stand to lose something like
five thousand pounds. If that horse starts fit and well for the Derby we
shall be in a rare mess. And there's nothing to beat the colt. It would
be maddening to be done at the beginning of the season. Fancy having to
upset