Even the presentation to her of the Gold Vase was by no means the ecstacy she had expected. It was by a desperate effort that she held her head up, spoke her thanks, smiled, and marched away with Rensslaer, who tucked the Vase under his arm as if used to such ridiculous impedimenta, and took her straight to her brother, followed by the cheers of the lookers-on, in which a nice ear might detect a certain note of familiarity. Possibly she detected it, but was quite unaware that Carlton was about having a very bad quarter of an hour, called as he had been before the Stewards, for an explanation of his extraordinary driving. He declared that his horse lost a toe weight at the first turn, which caused him to break, and he could not, or would not settle afterwards, and when the horse was examined, it was seen that the near toe weight was missing. While the discussion was still going on, one of the distance judges brought in the toe weight, and also the screw which held it, but instead of the screw being broken, or the threads worn, it was seen that the screw had only a head, and very short shank, and that the latter showed marks of its having quite recently had the end of the screw shank filed off, so that there was only a head, and a little bit of shank. The blacksmith who was employed at the trotting track said that Mackrell borrowed a file of him before the final heat, and being curious as to what he wanted it for, he followed him at a distance, and saw him filing something behind a tree, after which he went to screw on his horse's toe weights. The blacksmith went behind the tree and picked up the half of a screw (the point end), which he produced, and it corresponded to the screw which Mac's horse had lost with his toe weight. Result--expelled from ever driving in the Clubhouse, and outlawed forever. Mackrell bowed, and withdrew with perfect _sang-froid_. He had pulled off what he intended, and if Gay had been made happy by getting what she wanted, he did not in the least grudge the price he had paid. But when he joined, or rather intercepted, her on the way to the gates, he found a pale, almost tearful Gay, and one glance at the Professor's and Lossie's faces convinced him that they had been baiting her cruelly, in spite of Rensslaer, who cool and imperturbable as ever, walked beside her. "Hearty congratulations, Gay!" Mackrell cried, taking her hand. "It was the best done, pluckiest thing I ever saw in my life, and the Gold Vase is yours." Gay controlled her voice to thank him, but Rensslaer shot a quick glance at the other's face--he had, of course, seen Mackrell's game from the first, and was also aware of that summons to the Stewards' room, to which there could only be one issue.