all our plans because of a misfortune like this!"

"Unless we could stop the colt," Copley suggested.

Foster looked keenly across the table at his companion.

"That's not a bad idea," he said thoughtfully. "If the Blenheim colt
lost the Derby we should win ten thousand pounds at least. At the price
the horse stands in the betting to-day, we could lay another twenty
thousand pounds without knocking him altogether out of the betting. I
don't call to mind a case in which the public have been more infatuated
about a horse. Why, our commission never shook him at all. Suppose,
without anybody knowing it, we could guarantee that the horse didn't
start. In that case, we could lay a hundred thousand pounds against him,
with the absolute knowledge that it would be only a question of time
before we scooped up the money. Our Mirst Park scheme is a mere fleabite
to it."

Copley's sombre eyes lighted a little.

"Yes, if we could only do it," he sneered. "But the age for that game is
past. There is no chance of hocussing a horse, or laming him, or bribing
a stable boy, or squaring a jockey. That was all very well in the old
days, when meetings were few and far between, and we hadn't got an
enlightened Press that watches everything as a cat watches a mouse. It's
no use wasting time over idle dreams of that sort, Foster. Poor as he
is, Sir George wouldn't even hear of such a thing."

"Think not?" Foster asked. "Well, I believe myself that every man has
his price. I have never found anything to the contrary. I thought you
were a fool to come down here at all. I thought you were a fool to allow
yourself to be fascinated by that girl, but now I begin to see a way of
turning it to account. I don't suppose she'll marry you. I never thought
she would."

The big veins on Copley's temples thickened.

"Stow that," he said hoarsely. "You are going too far. I'll not listen
to a word of it. It is no business of yours. If you have anything good
to suggest, I shall be glad to listen to it, but I'll thank you to leave
Miss Haredale's name out of the discussion."

"Oh, very well," Foster said sulkily. "But, in this case, one thing
leads to another. To gain Miss Haredale you found money for her father
when we could have done with it ourselves--indeed, we wanted it pretty
badly. Now is your chance to get it back, and more. Sir George can't pay
you. He could as easily repay a million. He will find, too, that it is
impossible to coerce Miss Har