ours now, then, Sam, and I shall be for ever grateful."

"Anything to oblige an old patron, sir.--All right, I'm a-coming," cried
the trainer, in answer to a call from one of the servants, who came out
of a side door. "What is it?"

"Wanted by one of the men from the stables."

"All right. Here, you look out and hedge all you can, sir. Jim Crow's
your game."

"The dark horse," groaned the doctor, wildly; "he must be black. Ah,
poor darling, there she is!"

For Lady Tilborough came back, in her quick, eager way. "Ah, doctor,
still here?" she cried. "Where's that scoundrel Simpkins? Hallo!
What's the matter? Bad news?"

"Yes, horrible, I didn't know. It's ruin for me; but I don't care; I'm
in agony about you and the losses it means to you."

"What!" cried the lady, turning pale. "Is there another crux?"

"Yes," cried the doctor, catching her hands, and the genuine tears stood
in his eyes.

"Don't shilly-shally, man," she cried angrily. "Out with it, and get it
over."

"La Sylphide!"

"What about her? Some accident?"

"Yes. I'd have given anything not to be the bearer of such hideous
news."

"Let me have it at once, and I'll bear it like a woman, doctor. I'm not
one of your hysterical sort."

"No; the bravest lady I ever met."

"Then let me have it. What has the mare done?"

"Thrown your jockey or something. He's half-killed, I believe."

"Oh, bosh! Stale news. You mean Josh Rowle?"

"Yes. How can you bear it like that?"

"Bear it?" cried the lady. "You should have seen me a couple of hours
ago. Mad, doctor, mad."

"While now--"

"Merry as a lark, man; I've got another rider."

"You have? Oh, thank goodness! Thank goodness! Don't take any notice
of me, Lady Tilborough. I was quite knocked over."

"On account of my losing?"

"Well, yes. I was heavily on too, for myself and poor Hilt Lisle."

"Oh, you did the business for him then? I knew he was in to the tune of
four thou'."

"But your man, Lady Tilborough? Can you trust him to ride the mare?"

"Trust him! Why, it's Hilt himself."

"What! Hilt going to ride the mare?"

"Yes, my dear boy; and he'll save the race."

"Lady Tilborough, you've made me a happy man," cried the doctor.

"Have I?" she said drily, and with a merry look in her eye. "Well, be
happy, for I don't think you'll lose, Granton," she said softly. "I can
read men pretty well. Long experience. That was real. You were cut up
at the thou