Albert did really know something, but he did not know more than anybody else. In those days, indeed, two facts were common property at Putnam's. Everybody knew them, and everybody liked to believe that nobody else did. The two facts were that Albert was going to ride Four-Pound-the-Second at Aintree, and that Mr. Silver stood to get his money back upon the race. There was a third fact, too, that everybody knew. It was different from the other two in that not even Albert pretended that he alone was aware of it. The third fact was that Monkey Brand was sulking. The lads knew it, the horses knew it, Billy Bluff knew it; Maudie, who looked on Monkey as her one true friend in the world, knew it; even the fan-tails in the yard had reason to suspect it. Jim Silver, who had a genuine regard for the little man, and was most reluctant to think evil of him or anyone, was aware of it, and unhappy accordingly. The only two who seemed not to know what was obvious to all the rest of the world were, of course, the two most concerned--Old Mat and his daughter. They were blind--deliberately so, Silver sometimes thought. The young man became at length so disturbed that he ventured to suggest to the trainer that all was not well. The old man listened, his head a-cock, and his blue eyes sheathed. "I dessay," was all he said. "Men is men accordin' to my experience of 'em." He added: "And monkies monkies. Same as the Psalmist said in his knowin' little way." Beaten back here, the young man, dogged as always, approached Boy in the matter. He was countered with an ice-cold monosyllable. "Indeed," was all she said. The young man persisted in spite of his stutter. She flashed round on him. "So you think Monkey's selling us?" she said. Jim Silver looked sheepish and sullen. But whether the girl's attitude was due to the fact that he was still in disgrace or to her resentment that he should be telling tales, he did not know. * * * * * The young man's affairs in London were almost wound up, and he was making his home at Putnam's. About the place, early and late, he became aware that Joses was haunting the barns and out-houses. More than once in the lengthening days he saw the fat man vanishing round a corner in the dusk. Taking the bull by the horns, he spoke to Monkey Brand about it. "Why not turn Billy Bluff loose after dark?" he suggested. Monkey was stubborn. "Can't be done, sir." "Why not?" "Can't leave Four-Pound's box, sir," the jockey answered, turning in his lips. "Else the 'orse frets himself into a sweat." Silver was dissatisfied. He was still more so when two days later after dark he came on two men in close communion in the lane at the back of the Lads' Barn. They were standing in the shadow of the Barn out of the moon. But that his senses were alert, and his suspicions roused, he would not have detected them, for they hushed into sudden silence as he passed. He flashed an electric torch on to them.