He turned to racing as a faint and unsatisfying distraction. He had had the pleasure of beating Blair all along, even at the autumn meeting; he had had the savage enjoyment of knowing that Blair was as unlucky as usual when pitted against him. Skelton’s own secret dissatisfaction with himself fanned his resentment against Blair. He turned feverishly to the only thing that interested him--the determination to make Jack Blair know what it was to oppose Richard Skelton. Blair’s imprudent speeches, his constant reminders of the why and wherefore of Skelton’s rivalry, were not lost on him, and men of his type are always dangerous to trifle with. Skelton’s doubled subscription to the Jockey Club had had a wonderful stimulating effect upon that institution, and it also caused Mrs. Blair to sign her name to a bit of paper which enabled Blair to raise some money, not only for his own increased subscription, but for that horse of old Tom Shapleigh’s which Skelton himself had professed to be afraid of. If once a match could be brought about between Alabaster and Jaybird, Blair, who was irrepressibly sanguine, believed that he could wipe out all old scores between them. And, of course, he could buy the horse--old Tom had not seriously meant that Sylvia was to have for a riding nag a horse that could beat Jaybird. Blair thought that raising a certain sum of money, which was in effect an extravagant price, must certainly buy Alabaster. But he had to go through with some unpleasant processes before raising that money. He was terribly hard up at that time, and one of the most necessary conditions was the signing of his wife’s name to a bit of paper that to him represented Alabaster, money, coming out ahead of Skelton--everything, in short.