"Thanks, doctor, thanks," said the lady, with a meaning smile which made the doctor thrill. "Yes, I mean to win. There are some nice people staying at the Court. I'll introduce you on the stand, if I have time. But you'll come over afterwards and dine?" "Oh, thank you, yes," cried the doctor, flushing with pleasure. "So good of you. Can I do anything? Let me see that your horses are properly put up." "Oh, no, no, no, the coachman will see to that, I could not think of troubling you." "Trouble?" said the doctor, with what was intended for an intense gaze full of meaning. "Don't talk of trouble, Lady Tilborough, when you know." "Yes, I know that I am full of anxiety about my mare, and in no humour for listening to nonsense, so hold your tongue. Oh, here's that dreadful man again." For the visitor to the Denes of that morning, minus his little white mongrel, but flourishing his pack of race-cards, suddenly appeared at the window with: "Success to your ladyship, and may yer win every race! You'll buy a few c'rect cards of Dandy Dinny, the only original purveyor of--" "Get out, you scoundrel!" cried the doctor, fiercely. "Cert'ny, my noble doctor; but you'll buy a c'rect card of--" He did not finish, for the doctor threw a coin quickly out of the window, and the wretched-looking lout rushed to field it, before he was outpaced. "Poor wretch!" said Lady Tilborough. "But that was very nice of you. But there, don't follow me--now." She walked off quickly, and the doctor drew a quick breath. "Bless her! She never spoke to me like that before." He turned, full of elation, to find the landlord, with his pencil between his lips, watching him keenly. "I shan't dine here, Simpkins," he said. "Very good, sir. So I heered." "Splendid day for the race." "Yes, sir, and the ground's lovely. Made good book, sir?" "Oh, yes, capital." "Glad to see her ladyship bears it so well." "Bears it? Oh, she never gives way to excitement. She'd be cool, even if she felt she would lose." "Oh, yes, sir; I know well enough what spirit she has." "Rather a big field, though, Sam." "Yes, sir; but there's only one as can stay." "Exactly. La Sylphide, of course. By George! I'll take the liberty of making her namesake a present." "Very good of you, sir, but she's out of it." "What?" "Jim Crow's the horse, sir. First favourite now." "Bah!" cried the doctor. "What! Ain't you heard, sir?" "Heard! Heard what?" "Lady Tilborough's mare won't run." "You don't mean it?" cried the doctor, turning pale. "Fact, sir. I never plays tricks with gents I knows. Honesty's the best policy, sir; and you know as you can trust Sam Simpkins." "But--but--Good heavens! What does it mean? Lady Tilborough never said a word. Then that's why I couldn't see any sign of her people down by the paddock." "That's it, sir." "But why? What's the reason?"