“Three weeks ago yesterday,” he continued, referring to the book, “the office of Mr. James Wheeler, broker, was entered during the noon hour by two men who claimed to be Texans seeking an investment. The broker was absent, and his clerks were careless. “Result, when the Texans left, the broker was short exactly twenty thousand dollars. Have I stated the case correctly?” The Wall Street man, sitting with his hands on his knees, stared in the detective’s face with a look of surprise mingled with consternation. “Great God!” he exclaimed at length. “The matter wasn’t even reported to the police.” “Very true. Perhaps you will have the kindness to tell me the reason why.” “It would have ruined me. My creditors, and especially the friends of these heirs, would have pounced down upon me in less than twenty-four hours.” “And so, instead of facing the matter like a man, you endeavor to play even by staking money on the next handicap?” “That’s it exactly, and I pledge you my word of honor that in doing so I only sought to restore to the children the money of which they have been robbed.” “And now they are likely to lose forty thousand instead of twenty.” “I’m afraid so.” “What reason had you for supposing when you staked the money that Denver Bay would win the race?” “To tell the truth, I was half crazy when I made the investment. In doing so I only followed the drift of public opinion regarding the horse.” “Did you make the bet in the regular pool-room way?” “Certainly not. The odds were two to one on Denver Bay, and no bookmaker would have taken such chances so long before the race. The bet was made with a down-town sporting man, for whom I frequently do business in a small way.” “His name?” “Peter Johnson.” “One of the most notorious race-track sharpers in the country.” “I was not aware of that at the time.” “Well,” said Nick, with a smile, “I never knew a horse to win a race with such an outside bet on him, and all in the hands of one man, and that man a professional trickster.” “I can see now how foolish it was, and I wish to place the matter entirely in your hands. I am certain that the horse is to be fixed in some way so that he cannot win.” “What makes you think that?” “I have no definite information on the subject, it is true. As we say on the street, ‘It is in the air.’ No sporting man will touch the brute now, and those supposed to be on the inside are warning their friends not to risk their money on him.” “It does look pretty black.” “It looks pretty black, but I have every confidence in your ability to run the rumors down, and either see that there is a fair race or that the horse does not start at all.” “It’s a risky business, and will cost considerable money.” “I expect that; will you take the case?” “I will take it on one condition.” “Name it.”