bassador and his tall dark daughter stood near by.

"What stories they tell," said the great man in his gentle way.

"Don't they, sir?" answered Old Mat, wiping an innocent blue eye. "And
they gets no better as the years go by. They saddens me and Mar. They
does reelly."

Boy Woodburn, making her way through the crowd, joined the little group.

"Congratulations, Miss Woodburn," said the Ambassador's daughter shyly.
"The best horse won."

The fair girl beamed on the dark.

"Thank you, Miss Whitney," she answered. "A good race. You were giving
us a ton of weight."

Perhaps the girl was a little paler than her wont; but there was no
touch of lyrical excitement about her. Outwardly she was the
least-moved person in the Paddock.

Jim Silver's eyes were shining down on her.

"Well," he said.

She led away. He followed at her shoulder, the horse's bridle over his
arm.

"You've won your hundred thousand," she said.

His eyes were wistful and smiling as they dwelt upon her figure that
drooped a little.

"Hadn't a bean on," he said.

She did not seem surprised.

Her hand was on the wet neck of the horse, her eyes on her hand.

Then she raised them to his, and they were shining with rainbow beauty.

"I know you hadn't," she said.

Her hand touched his.

* * * * *

Close by them a black mass was seething round something upon the ground.

"That's Joses," she said. "Stop the worry, will you?--and send Monkey
Brand to take the horse."

Jim Silver turned. Somewhere in the middle of that tossing mass was a
human being.

Using his strength remorselessly, the young man broke his way through.
By the time he reached the centre of the maelstrom the police had
cleared a space round the fallen man.

He lay panting in the mud, a desolate and dreadful figure, his waistcoat
burst open, and shirt protruding, his shock of red hair a-loose on the
ground.

Jim was not the first to get to the fallen man.

Monkey Brand was already kneeling at his side, bottle in hand.

"Oh, my! Mr. Joses, my!" the little jockey was saying. "What you want is
just a drop o' comfort out o' me bottle. Open a little, and I'll pour."

Silver was just in time.

"That'll do, Brand," he said. "I'll see to this. Give me the bottle. You
go to Miss Boy."

A doctor was called in and reported that the fat man's condition was
serious. An ambulance was brought, and Joses removed.

Silver saw it off the ground.