your entry for this
year's Derby, was disposed of long ago. My colt Raffle kept for
sentimental reasons and, for the last two years, he has been trained
with your horses. Raffle has always declared that some day he would do
something great with one of the Blenheim blood. When he found out how
good a thing he had he was almost frightened. He was on the point of
confessing to you several times, but when he heard that I was dead he
decided to let matters slide. Raffle has a vein of sentiment in his
nature and, I suppose, the romance of the thing appealed to him.
Besides, he knew that you were a friend of mine and that May was more
than a friend. He is very fond of your daughter, in which he shows his
good taste. So the foolish old man resolved to keep the secret to
himself. He had transferred his allegiance to you and yours and had set
his heart upon restoring your family fortunes; in reality he was giving
May a comfortable and settled future. He didn't want the money for
himself. He was satisfied to feel that he was repaying the kindness he
had had at your hands. From a lofty moral point of view the thing may be
open to censure, but what I am able to prove I say through my lawyers,
through my bankers, through Raffle himself, and through other witnesses
whom we can produce. Of course I am in your debt for training expenses,
but that, at the moment, is beside the point. The point is that the
Blenheim colt which, bar accidents, is certain to win this year's Derby,
as you are perfectly well aware----"

"I am not so sure of that," Sir George interrupted. "If I am to believe
what Raffle says----"

"We will come to that," Fielden went on. "I think otherwise. The horse
has been knocked about in the betting a good deal lately and I am told
that he has gone to an outside price again. I have managed to scrape
together about two thousand pounds, every penny of which I have put upon
the colt. I had made up my mind never to make another bet, but this
opportunity is too good to be lost. If this horse wins the Derby, then I
shall be a rich man again. If that good fortune is in store for me, it
will be the last bet I shall ever make. And now, you understand why,
apart from the morality of the thing, I object to the horse being
scratched. In fact, you are not in a position to do so."

Sir George rubbed his head bewilderingly.

"Please say it all over again," he asked. "I know you mean everything
you say, I know you are not joking with