The policeman on the gate made a fuss about admitting Billy Bluff. But the head yard-man, who knew Mat Woodburn's daughter almost as well as he knew his own, interfered on her behalf. "He'll sleep in my horse's box," Boy explained. "Won't your horse sleep without him, Miss?" grinned the yard-man. "Not so well," answered the girl. "Oh, let him in," said the other. "Pity to spoil that horse's beauty sleep. Might lose his looks." Boy could never bring herself to titter at the jokes of those whom it was expedient to placate. Happily Albert was at hand to make amends, and he, to be sure, had no qualms of conscience. The little procession entered, Billy Bluff at the heels of the great horse, striking fire in the dusk from the cobbled yard. "He's to look after Chukkers, I suppose," said the yard-man grimly, pleased at his own generosity, well satisfied with his wit, and fairly so with Albert's tribute to it. "He's to look after my horse," said Boy resolutely. "He looks he could look after himself, Miss," replied the witty yard-man. "So he can, sir, with you to help him," said the swift and tactful Albert. The yard-man, who could tell you stories of Boomerang's National, and Cannibal's victory, that not even Monkey Brand could surpass, knew of old the feeling between Putnam's and the Dewhurst stable, and had placed the boxes of the two horses far apart. * * * * * All through the week the excitement grew. The Sefton Arms was seething; the bar a slowly heaving mass of racing-men, jockeys, touts, habitues. Once or twice there were rows between Ikey's Own--the Yankee doodlers, as the local wits called them--and the English silver-ring bookies; and the cause of the quarrels was invariably the same--the treatment of the mare at last year's National. Throughout the week Boy went her quiet, strenuous way, unconscious of the commotion about her, or careless of it. Jim Silver escorted her to and from the yard. Most people knew Old Mat's daughter and respected her; and those who did not, respected the grave-faced young giant who was her constant attendant. When the pair passed swiftly through the bar, an observer would have noticed that a hush fell on the drinkers, accompanied by surreptitious elbow-nudgings and significant winks. It was clear that the young couple were of secret interest to the dingy crowd. And in fact there were rumours afloat about them--sensational stories not a few about what they stood to win in love upon the race. Monkey Brand and Joses were always drinking together in the bar as Silver walked through. Once he passed quite close to them. The little jockey's glassy eye rested meaninglessly on the young man's face and wandered away. When the other had moved on, he dropped his eyelid and muttered to his pal: "Wants the ---- kybosh puttin' on him. Good as called me a copper's nark."