rd turned at this.

"I told you we'd catch Marston in some crooked work, but I've changed my
mind. He's a sly fox. He's scented something. I've watched him all
right, and he's been straight as a shingle."

"I don't see that it matters now," replied John, coolly, busy at his
desk.

"Why?"

"We don't want to ruin him just for the fun of it, do we? It was to help
the Dudleys we planned his downfall. That necessity is removed now. Of
course he should be punished for holding that dividend back, but that
alone hardly merits the penitentiary, especially since our little plan
about the insurance worked. They're easy now, but we must see that no
more tricks like that are played at the bank. Marston's behaving very
well now. At least he has quit annoying our friends."

"You're a devilish funny fellow!" commented Dillard.

"And I want him to be on hand at the races," continued John. "He has
entered the pick of his stables. Two of them--the best he has--go
against The Prince. The colt will win. I want Marston to see him win. I
want him to see a Dudley horse walk away from the fastest thing in a
Marston stable!"

He swung around in his chair with flashing eyes.

"You're pretty confident, aren't you?"

"No more than I have cause to be."

"Do you know the private record of that big black, Imperial Don?"

"No, and I don't care to. I don't care if it's two minutes flat! I tell
you, Tom Dillard, there's nothing on four legs that can outrun The
Prince! It is uncanny! Have you ever seen him go with a loosened rein?
It takes your breath away to watch him! Peter is going to work him out
this afternoon at the track. Miss Dudley and I are going. When you come
back you will understand what I mean when I say this colt was born of
the wind and the lightning!"

Dillard flushed at the mention of Julia's name and looked embarrassed.
John wondered. Had the poor fellow cast his die, and lost? His own
uncertain position brought a warm feeling of sympathy to his heart, but
he could say nothing personal.

"I don't suspect I can come," answered Dillard, in a changed voice, and
John no longer doubted it was all over with his friend. "But I hope
you're right. It would give me a lot of pleasure to see the Dudleys win
over Marston."

"There are plenty of people around here who will enjoy that pleasure,"
muttered Glenning, turning to his writing materials.

"I'll be on hand at the race, anyway," said Dillard, walking to the
door, "and I'll