cunning fox-like instinct led him to read Anna Gessner's
character as few others who had known her. Believing greatly in the
gospel of heredity, he perceived that Anna owed much to her father and
more to her nationality. "She is selfish and passionate, a little devil
in single harness who would be worse in double"--this was his reading of
her; to which he added the firm resolution to put the matter to the
proof without loss of time.

"I shall weigh in immediately and the weights will be light," he
thought. "She likes a bit of a flutter and I'll see that she gets it.
There is plenty of corn in the old man's manger, and if it comes to
bursting the bag, I will carry home the pieces. There's where I drive
the car. She shall play and I will be her pet lamb. Great Jupiter, what
a catch!"

The result of this pretty conclusion is next to be seen in a cottage in
Hampshire, not far removed from the racing stables of the great John
Farrier, who, as all the world knows, is one of the most honest and the
most famous trainers in the country. This cottage had Willy Forrest
furnished (indirectly at Anna's expense) in a manner worthy of all the
artistic catalogues. And hither would Anna come, driving over from her
father's country-house near Basingstoke, and caring not a fig what the
grooms might think of her.

"Captain Forrest is my trainer," she told the men, bidding them to be
secret.

For any other explanation they cared not at all. To run a horse in a
great race seemed to them the highest of human achievements, and great
was their wonder that this fragile girl should dare it. "She be a rare
good 'un and a stayer. Derned if I don't put my last button on
Whirlwind." This was the extent of the scandal that she caused.

Anna motored over to "The Nest" some three weeks after Alban had been
received at Hampstead, and found Willy Forrest anxiously waiting for her
at the gate. She had brought with her one of those obliging dependents
who act so cheerfully as unnecessary chaperones, and this "person" she
left in the smart car while she entered the cottage and told the owner
that he was forgiven. Their quarrel had been vehement and tempestuous
while it lasted--and the Captain remembered that she had struck him with
her whip.

"I knew you'd come, Anna," he said good-humoredly while he opened the
gate for her. "Of course, I don't bear you any grudge. Good Lord, how
you went it last time. I might have been a hair-trunk that had let you