nd drew out a cigar. Ordinarily the face of an alabaster Buddha
was mobile and full of expression compared with Crane's. His mind worked
behind a mask, but it worked with the clean-cut precision of clockwork.
When his thoughts had crystallized into a form of expression, Crane was
very apt to be exactly right in his deductions.

Save for the curling smoke that streamed lazily upward from his cigar
one might have thought the banker fast asleep in his chair, so still he
sat, while his mind labored with the quiescent velocity of a spinning
top. He had won a big stake over Lauzanne's victory. The race had helped
beggar Porter, and brought Ringwood nearer his covetous grasp. If Porter
failed to win the Eclipse, his finances would be in a pitiable state; he
might even have to sell his good filly Lucretia. That would be a golden
opportunity.

From desiring the farm, insensibly Crane drifted into coveting the mare.
He fell to wondering whether The Dutchman might not beat Lucretia. A
question of this sort was one of the few he discussed with Langdon.
Crane had smoked his cigar out, had settled the trend of many things,
and developed the routine for his chessmen.

"I'll give Porter rope enough, in the way of funds, to tangle himself,
and in the meantime I'll run up to New York and see what Langdon thinks
about The Dutchman," was the shorthand record of his thoughts as he
threw away the end of his cigar, took his hat, and passed out of the
bank.

That evening he talked with his trainer.

"What should win the Eclipse, Langdon?" he asked.

"Well, I don't know what'll start," began the Trainer, with diplomatic
caution, running over in his mind the most likely twoyear-olds.

"Would Porter's mare have a chance?"

"I think she would. I hear somethin' about a trial she gave them good
enough to win--if I could find out her time--Porter don't talk much, an'
Andy Dixon's like a clam. There's a boy in the stable, Shandy, that I
might pump--"

"Don't bother, Mr. Langdon; I dislike prying into anybody's business."

The Trainer stared, but he didn't know that Porter had told Crane all
about the trial, and so the latter could afford to take a virtuous pose.

"Has The Dutchman a look in?" continued Crane.

"On his runnin' he has; he wasn't half fit, an' got as bad a ride as
ever I see in my life. The race ought to be between 'em--I ain't seen no
two-year-olds out to beat that pair."

"If I thought The Dutchman would win I'd buy him.