amant.
Her head was bent as he approached. Only when he stopped within arm's
length and held out his hand did she flash the wonder of her topaz eyes
full into his, and giving him her hand, bent towards him in a last
mighty effort to conquer. He felt the blood rush to his brain so that
her face was blurred before him; he was conscious of white arms gliding
above his shoulders, then with a low, strangled curse of anger he had
pushed her from him, and was in the hall. Another moment the outer door
closed behind him, and he was creeping through the deserted streets,
shivering as with palsy, an inarticulate blending of prayer, blasphemy,
and an absent woman's name upon his lips.

CHAPTER XVII

Glenning did not attend the fair the first two days. He had good and
sufficient reasons for finding his practice so urgent that he could not
leave it, but the afternoon of the third day he drove out. The sights
and sounds which greeted him as he passed through the gates were all
familiar. To one side some half grown boys were throwing at rag babies.
Further on was the merry-go-round, piping its crazy tune, and carrying
its precious freight of happy children. Yonder was the booth where beer
was dispensed, and it had a liberal patronage, for the day was hot.
Tents were scattered here and there, with gaudy, distorted pictures,
representing something impossible in nature or art, reared before them
to tempt the unsophisticated. There, too, was the fakir, crying his
swindling schemes in a strident voice. Nestled to the track, and crowded
with restless humanity, was the grandstand. At one end of this was the
betting shed. John secured his horse, and went around to the track
stables. The races that afternoon had small interest for him. His
thoughts were of The Prince, and his chances on the morrow. He found the
door to the colt's stall securely locked on the inside, and a stable
hand laughingly told him that no one was allowed to enter. John rapped
on the door and called Peter. The old fellow recognized his voice and
let him in, locking the door behind him. The stall was well lighted and
John could see the colt plainly. He appeared in the best condition, and
his bay coat was glistening from the constant rubbing his attendant gave
him.

"Does any one ever come in here but you, Uncle Peter?"

"No, _suh_! Dey ain' nobody stuck he haid in heah 'cep' me!"

"That's right. No one else has any business in here. There's lots of
trickery a