ane. As Langdon slipped away as though he
had been thrust bodily from the room, there was in his mind nothing but
admiration of his master--the man who backed up his delicate diplomacy
with liberal capital.

In spite of what he had said to Langdon, there was little doubt in
Crane's mind but that the son of Hanover was a better horse than
Lucretia. A sanguine owner--even Porter was one at times--was so apt
to overrate everything in his own stable, especially if he had bred the
animal himself, as Porter had Lucretia. To buy The Dutchman and back him
on such short ownership to beat Lucretia would have been the policy of
a very ordinary mind indeed; he would simply be fencing, with rapiers of
equal length, with John Porter.

Crane had attained to his success by thinking a little deeper than other
men, going a little beyond them in the carefulness of his plans. He
knew intuitively--in fact Porter's unguarded conversation had suggested
it--that Lucretia's owner meant to win himself out of his difficult
position by backing the little mare heavily for the Eclipse, expecting
to get his money on at good odds. By owning The Dutchman Crane could
whipsaw the situation; forestall Porter in the betting by backing
Lucretia down to a short price himself, and have Jakey Faust lay with
a full vigor against the Hanover colt. He would thus confine Porter to
stake money, and Ringwood would still lie chained to his bank by the
golden links he had forged on the place.

Almost insensibly, side by side with this weed of villainy there was
growing in Crane's mind a most peculiar flower of sentiment, a love
blossom. Strive as he would--though the apathy of his rebellion somewhat
startled him--Crane could not obliterate from his thoughts the wondrous
gray eyes of Allis Porter. Even after Langdon was gone, the atmosphere
of the room still smirched by unholy underplay, thoughts of the girl
came to Crane, jostling and elbowing the evil conceptions of his
restless mind. Grotesquely incongruous as it was, Crane was actually
in love; but the love flower, pure enough in itself, had rooted in
marvelous ground. His passion was absolutely love, nothing else--love at
first sight. But he was forty, and the methods of that many years must
still govern his actions. Instinctively he felt that he must win the
girl by diplomacy; and Crane's idea of diplomacy was to get a man
irrevocably in his power. If John Porter were indebted to him beyond
redemption, if he p