Boy Woodburn entered later, walked slowly up the aisle, and took her place in the front pew. As she bowed her head in her hands, the fat man, watching with all his eyes, learned what he had come to learn. After service he waited outside. As he stood among the tomb-stones, the girl passed, not seeing him. "Good morning, Miss Woodburn," he said ironically. She looked up suddenly, resentfully. His presence there clearly surprised and even startled the girl. She passed on without a word and with the faintest nod of acknowledgment. The fat man, with a chuckle, thought he could diagnose the cause of her annoyance. Next morning he met Boy in the village. She was wearing a close-fitting woollen cap, that covered her hair, and the collar of her coat was turned up. The collar of the girl's coat was always turned up now, he remarked sardonically, though the sun was gaining daily in power and the wind losing its nip. She sauntered past him, and seemed even ready for a chat. Never slow to seize a chance, the fat man closed with her at once. "How goes it, Miss Woodburn?" he said. "Very well, thank you." "So you're going to win the National?" "Are we?" "He's good enough, isn't he?" The girl shrugged her shoulders. "Who's going to ride him?" "Albert, I suppose," replied the girl casually. "There's nobody else." "Not Monkey Brand?" She shook her head. "Too old," she said. "Will he gallop for Albert?" asked the other. "Depends on his mood," replied the girl. The fat man laughed. "There's only one person he will gallop for--certain," he said. Boy looked away. "Who's that?" nonchalantly. Joses bowed and smirked and became very gallant. Flattery never moved the girl to anything but resentment. "Thank you," she said. "Pity you can't," pursued the other. "Yes," she said. "I should have liked the ride." His roaming eye settled on her. "You'd have won, too," he said with assurance. "Think so?" "I'm sure so," he answered. "You've only One against you." "Perhaps," she admitted. "But the One's a caution." "A good big un'll always beat a good little un," said the fat man. "Besides, he's a baby," replied the girl. "Chances his fences too much." "Sprawls a bit," admitted the other. "But he jumps so big it doesn't make much odds. And he gets away like a deer." * * * * * Joses was now very much alert; and he had to be. For, as he reported to Jaggers, Putnam's gave away as little as a dead man in the dark. One thing, however, became clear as the time slipped away and the National drew ever nearer: that to the girl had been entrusted the winding up of the young horse, and Albert was her henchman in the matter. Monkey was the fat man's informant on the point. Joses would never have believed the little jockey for a moment, but that his own eyes daily confirmed the report.