Many such remarks were passed as Tearaway went in. "Get down," said Brant sharply, trying to rouse him. Fred looked at him but did not seem to understand. "Get down, unsaddle, and weigh in," said Brant. "Yes, of course, I forgot," said Fred in a hollow voice. Two of the stewards were looking on; they had just congratulated Picton on his win. "Your jockey looks ill," one of them said. "He is; he was very bad, faint, before the race, but he said he'd pull through, and I could not find a good jockey at the last moment," said Picton. "You might have ridden her," said the other steward. "You are about the weight, and would not have made any difference to the result." Picton was flattered; this was high praise indeed; the steward was one of the best judges of racing in the land. Fred managed to take the saddle off and walked with unsteady steps to the weighing room. He sat in the chair with a bump. The clerk at the scales looked at him. "You're ill, Fred," he said. The jockey nodded; he would not have been surprised had they told him he was dying. He got up from the scales, and Banks, the rider of Ripon, dropped his saddle and caught him as he fell forward in a faint. "All right," was called. Brant came forward; he and Picton carried him outside. A doctor came, ordered him to be taken to the hospital at once, and thither he was conveyed, Picton accompanying him. When Fred came to, he said to Picton, with a faint smile: "Don't stay here; I'm all right. I did feel bad; I don't know how I stuck on. She's a wonder; she won the race on her own, and carried a log of wood on her back. I was quite as useless; I could not help her at all." "You are sure you do not wish me to stay?" "Quite," said Fred. "I shall probably be on the course to-morrow." "What's the matter with him, doctor?" asked Picton, when they were in the consulting room. "He's consumptive, there are all the symptoms, and it is weakness caused through that. He may be able to go out to-morrow as he says; it is wonderful how they rally--a flash in the pan. He can't live long, I'm afraid; in any case he ought to give up riding," said the doctor. "I don't think he'll mind that so much now he's won the St. Leger," said Picton, smiling. He liked the doctor, fancied he resembled some one he knew. "Will you come to Haverton and have a shot on the moor?" he asked. "You are very kind, Mr. Woodridge, but perhaps when you hear my name you may be prejudiced against me." "A name can make no difference," said Picton. "What is it?" "Bernard Elroy." Picton started; he was much surprised. "I am the brother-in-law of Mrs. Elroy. Now do you understand?" "Yes," said Picton. "It makes no difference; all that is past." "But not forgotten," said the doctor. "No, it is not. You cannot expect it." "Mr. Woodridge, if I could prove your brother's innocence, I would. I'd give a great deal to prove it, do anything that would assist in proving it." "You believe he is innocent?" asked Picton.