"My friend," said Bakkus, "now is the time to make a bold bid for a sure fortune. There is a horse called Goffredo who is quoted in the sacred inner ring of those that know at 8 to 1. I have information withheld from this boor rabble, that he will win, and that he will come out at about 15 to 1. I shall therefore invest my five louis in the certain hope of seventy-five beautiful golden coins clinking into my hand. Come thou and do likewise." "I'm going to back Elodie," said Andrew. Bakkus stared at him. "Elodie--that ambulatory assemblage of cat's meat! Why she has never been placed in a race in her life. Look at her." He pulled Andrew as near the railings as they could get and soon picked her out of the eight or nine cantering down the straight--a sleek, mild, contented bay whose ambling gentleness was greeted with a murmur of derision. "Did you ever see such a cow?" "I like the look of her," said Andrew. "Why--in the name of----" "She looks as if she would be kind to children," replied Andrew. They rushed quickly to the _Pari Mutuel_. Bakkus paid his five louis for his Goffredo ticket. He turned to seek Andrew, but Andrew had gone. In a moment or two they met among the scurrying swarm about the booths. "What have you done?" "I've put a louis on Elodie," said Andrew. "The next time I want to give you a happy day I'll take you to the Young Men's Christian Association," said Bakkus witheringly. "Let us see the race," said Andrew. They paid a franc apiece for a stand on a bench and watched as much of the race as they could see. And Bakkus forgot to share his glasses with Andrew, who caught now and then an uncomprehending sight of coloured dots on moving objects and gaped in equally uncomprehensible bewilderment when the racing streak flashed home up the straight. A strange cry, not of gladness but of wonder, burst from the great crowd. Andrew turned to Bakkus, who, with glasses lowered, was looking at him with hollow eyes from which the mockery had fled. "What's the matter?" asked Andrew. "The matter? Your running nightmare has won. Why the devil couldn't you have given me the tip? You must have known something. No one could play such a game without knowing. It's damned unfriendly." "Believe me, I had no tip," Andrew protested. "I never heard of the beast before." "Then why the blazes did you pick her out?" "Ah!" said Andrew. Then realizing that his philosophical and paradoxical friend was in sordid earnest he said mildly: "There was a girl of that name who once brought me good luck." The gambler, alive to superstitious intuitions, repented immediately of his anger. "That's worth all the tips in the world. Why didn't you tell me?" "I don't wear my heart upon my sleeve," replied Andrew. So peace was made. They joined the thin crowd round their booth of the _Pari Mutuel_, mainly composed of place winners, and when the placards of the odds went up, Bakkus gripped his companion's arm.