She swept round the last turn but one at such speed that she found she must keep her eyes fixed on her horse's ears, as the least glance to the side made her feel giddy, and as if she would lose her balance, and now she got up with the pacer in the hack stretch, who was wobbling along in the regular third-rate pacer style, instead of moving almost as upright as a trotter, as Hettie C. the pacer did earlier in the day. A really perfect-gaited pacer has very little roll in its gait, and if seen from the side could not be distinguished from a trotter except by an expert, but poor old Birmingham Joe was labouring along like a channel boat in a south-wester, and his hobbles were singing from the strain like an æolian harp. It was this strain, and the fact that poor old Birmingham Joe's master had _everything_ old (including the horse), which won Gay the race. The sulky was an old heavy metal one, made in England years ago, the hobbles had been patched and mended till little of the original hobbles remained, and as the two horses came neck and neck (Gay on the outside) round the last turn, the æolian sound of the hobbles changed to a sudden rending crash, and old Birmingham Joe turned a complete somersault, pitching his driver over his head, and landing on top of him, the hobbles having broken. Gay jogged in a winner in 3.35, a second faster than her horse had ever trotted before, and whilst the driver of Birmingham Joe was carried in on a stretcher with a broken leg, Mackrell finished on a canter last of all, amidst the yells of his backers, that alternated with loud cheers for Gay Lawless. In these cheers neither Lossie nor the Professor joined. They had not understood what Rensslaer meant when he had suddenly appeared beside them, and hurried Gay away. They had hardly understood what it meant when after a considerable delay (for they were at some distance from the stables) they had seen a woman's shape in a Faber, driving rapidly towards the track, and when in the first round Gay had swept by close to them, looking extraordinarily pretty and determined, her little feet planted firmly on the rail before her, eyes wide with excitement and courage, the Professor had all but fallen down in a fit, while Lossie rejoiced--even Carlton Mackrell's affection could hardly survive that. On all sides kodaks had flashed; indeed in the event, nearly every illustrated paper made a scandalous feature of a sight common enough in Vienna. Min Toplady alone of the women clapped her hands, and cheered at the top of her voice; but the excitement now over, Gay herself felt shaky, and more than half inclined to burst into tears.