"So that was Miss Lawless, was it?" Rensslaer said thoughtfully. "I've heard the name only just lately. There was something in the _Trotting World_ about her, and some horses she had bought. It is a surprise to me to find a lady patronising Trotting." "Well," said Tugwood, not desiring to typify his mistress as the example that proved the rule, "I shouldn't wonder if before long we don't 'ave a duchess trottin' 'orses under our Rules, the same as they do under the Jockey Club," but his tone lacked conviction. "I suppose you know Mr. Carlton Mackrell, then," pursued Rensslaer, who himself did, and foresaw through him an introduction to Gay. "Know 'im, sir? I should think I did indeed," the trainer assured him. "Why, it was me as introduced Mr. Mackrell to Trottin'," and he drew himself up proudly. "Been fairly successful too, hasn't he?" Rensslaer inquired. "Remarkably so, sir, I'm pleased to say," said Tugwood, bridling, "though I says it as shouldn't, seein' as 'ow I've 'ad the trainin' of his 'osses till quite lately. I left Mr. Mackrell to come to Miss Lawless, you see, sir, an' I 'ope to be as successful for 'er as I was for 'im, though of course Miss Gay 'as only just started, so to speak. I expect to 'ave a winner for 'er at the next meetin' 'ere, sir--that 'oss you see goin' roun' just now. Silver Streak 'is name is. Come an' 'ave a look over 'im." Together they entered the horse's box, where Tugwood proceeded to recount Silver Streak's performances before he came into his charge. "A nice horse," commented Rensslaer, "though I should call him too good-looking. Quite a picture compared to my mare outside, isn't he?" indicating with a jerk of his head the rough-and-ready-looking animal in the wagon. Certainly Silver Streak was more of the race-horse stamp than the trotter, and the expert shook his head as he looked him over from all points. "Not a record-breaker, I think," he opined, "and what is his best time?" "Two-twenty on this track, sir," the trainer said, "though I think I can improve 'im a lot on that time. In fact, Miss Gay thinks of enterin' 'im for the Champion Vase, an' though I won't go so far as to say he'll win it, some of the others will know they've been racin' before they're done. There's some good 'osses with form be'ind 'em waitin' with a view to that race. Demonstrator's one of 'em, an' Mr. Mackrell's Billy Q., wot won at the last meetin' 'ere, is not out of it by a long way. From what I know of that 'oss--an' I trained 'im for all 'is races--'e'll very near win it. Whatever beats 'im will win any'ow," he concluded. "Well, we shall see," replied Rensslaer. "I must be off now, but you'll see me again before long. What did you say Mr. Mackrell's present address was?" Tugwood did not remember having mentioned it, but he replied: