un even for Putnam's.

As Mat entered the Paddock, he was looking round him--for his missing
daughter, observers said.

Jaggers and Ikey Aaronsohnn marked him from afar and told off a couple
of the Boys to track him from a respectful distance.

The old man's familiar figure, his queer clothes, and reputation as a
character, drew others toward him. He lilted heavily across the Paddock
with a word to one, a nod to another, a wink for a third, talking all
the time and breathing like a grampus, with a little crowd of tittering
nondescripts swirling in his wake and hanging on his words.

"Don't 'ave nothin' to do wi' me. That's my adwice to you. I'm Old Mat.
You oughter know that by this. No, I ain't goin' to walk round the
course this year. As I says, the course don't change, but I does. If the
course wants me to see it, it must walk round me. I've done the proper
thing be the course this sixty year. Now it's the course's turn. _Good
morning, Mr. Jaggers_. Yes, I see him, and he see me--only he look the
other way. Pretty little thing, ain't he? Reminds me of that foreign
chap went on the religious ramp in Italy. I seen his picture at Mr.
Haggard's. Savierollher, wasn't it? They burnt him; and I don't blame
'em. He was Jaggers's father I _'ave_ 'eard. Only you mustn't 'and it
on, else you might get me into trouble."

He crossed the course, looked at the water opposite the Grand Stand, and
examined the first fence lugubriously.

"Time was I could ha' hop it off one foot," he said. "Something's
'appened. Must 'ave."

Then he returned to the Paddock, passing a bookie with uplifted hand of
protest.

"Get away from me, Satan," he said. "Don't tempt an old man what's never
fell yet."

"I know all about that, Mr. Woodburn," grinned the bookie.

"I got my principles same as them as 'asn't," continued the old man,
marching firmly on. "You go and tell that to the Three J's, Mr.
Buckland. There they are be the Grand Stand. No, when I gets back to
Mar there'll be nothin' to show her only a blank bettin' book." He
stopped quite suddenly and dropped his voice to a whisper: "Anything
doin', Mr. Buckland?"

His little following roared.

"Favourite fours. Nothing else wanted, Mr. Woodburn," said the amused
man. "It's just the day for the mare."

"Fours," said the old man. "Price shorter nor ever I remember it since
Cloister's year. It's a cert. for the Three J's. What about my little
ride-a-cock-horse, Mr. Buckland?"

The