Without an upward glance, Skinner inquired: "Did the man you trained for the Sheffield Handicap win?" "Never mind that. Does this frame-up go through?" It happened that Speed, drawn irresistibly, had come forward to hang upon every word, and now chose this moment to interrupt. "It's all right, Mr. Skinner--" But Skinner leaped to his feet. "Don't try anything like that!" he cried, in a terrible voice that brought Gabby Gallagher striding toward them. "What's goin' on here? Are they try in' to fix you, Skinner?" "Not a bit like it," Glass protested stoutly. "I only asked him which side he'd rather run on, and now he calls for police protection." "Don't try it again, that's all!" the cook warned, sullenly. "I reckon I'll take a hand in this!" Gallagher was in a fine rage, and would have fallen upon the offender had not Stover stepped in his path. "I reckon you won't!" he said easily. The two glared at each other, and were standing thus when Speed and his trainer moved gently off. They made their way to the house in comparative silence. "I--I made a mistake," said Wally. "You've been jobbed like you was a baby," said Glass. "There ain't but one thing to do now. Go into the house and change your clothes, and when you get ready to run, get ready to run for your life--and mine." Over on the race-course Gallagher was inquiring: "Who's goin' to send these y'ere athaletes away?" "I am!" announced Willie without hesitation "Bein' perhaps the handiest man present with a weepon, I'm goin' to start this journey." He looked his foes squarely in the eyes. "Has anybody got objections to me?" The silence was nattering, and more loudly now, so that Skinner might hear, he added: "If your man tries to beat the gun, I'll have him wingin' his way to lands celestial before he makes his second jump." Gallagher acknowledged the fairness of this proposition. "This race is goin' to be squar'," said he. "We're ready when y'all are." J. Wallingford Speed stepped out of his clothes and into his silken running-suit. He was numb and cold. His hands performed their duties to be sure, but his brain was idle. All he knew was that he had been betrayed and all was lost. He heard Glass panting instructions into his ear, but they made no impression upon him. In a dull trance he followed his trainer back to the track, his eyes staring, his bones like water. Not until he heard the welcoming shout of the Flying Heart henchmen did he realize that the worst was yet to come. He heard Larry still coaching earnestly: "If you can't bite him, trip him up," and some one said: "Are we ready?" Glass held out his hand. "Good-bye, Mr. Speed." Chapin came forward and spoke with artificial heartiness, "Good- luck, Wally; beat him at the start," and Covington followed. "Remember," he cautioned, sadly, "what I told you about the start--it's your only chance." "Why don't you fellows think about the finish of this race?" faltered the runner.