t permit himself to be made a victim of the
leeches of the turf--although he may wager a bit, just to give zest to
the race. American racing has often been called a purely gambling
affair, and I think, before we get through, that we shall see the reason
for much of the public opposition to it."

Just then a small man entered the office, and, seeing us, asked for Mr.
Murchie. His face was pinched and thin. He wore the latest cut of
clothes, but was so very slight that his garments hung loosely on him.
One could well imagine that he had tried all sorts of schemes to keep
himself down toward the hundred-and-ten-or-twelve-pound mark. He was the
very type of jockey. He introduced himself to us as Danny McGee, and I
recognized at once the famous twenty-five-thousand-dollar-a-year rider,
who had so often successfully defended the Broadhurst colors.

"Mr. Murchie has gone up to the house," replied Kennedy to his inquiry.

McGee looked us over a minute.

"Friends of his?" he asked, in a confidential tone. Kennedy smiled.

"Of Mr. Broadhurst's," he said quietly.

There was a noticeable change in McGee's manner.

"Just out here to look the stable over," went on Kennedy; "a wonderful
place."

"Yes; we think so," assented McGee.

"It seems strange," ventured Kennedy, "that, with all this care, Lady
Lee should not be keeping up to her record."

McGee glanced at us keenly.

"I don't understand it myself," he said. "I suppose lots of people must
think it is the fault of the jockey, but I have certainly earned my
salary lately with that filly. I don't know what's the matter. I've done
the best I can, but in spite of it there's something wrong."

He spoke with an air of genuine worry, and, although I tried hard, I
must confess that I found it impossible to fathom him.

"The filly," he added, "has her regular work-out and the regular feed,
and yet she seems to be all tired out most of the time. Even the
veterinaries can't seem to find out what's the matter."

An awkward silence followed, during which both Kennedy and myself
endeavored to conceal our ignorance of horses by saying nothing about
them. Finally McGee rose and excused himself, saying that he would be
back soon.

There were still a few minutes before Murchie would be likely to return.
Without saying a word, Kennedy rose and opened the door which led into
the stable. Across the lawn in the center we could see a man's figure
rapidly retreating through the main en