"I say, Tony, Chimpanzee has shunted to three's--only a fraction's difference now between him and Moonbeam," he was murmuring. "Tell me more about Houston," said Dorothy to Lonsdale. "I don't think I can bear to watch the race." "Cheer-oh, Doodles! You can't feel more queasy than I do. And I've told you all I know about Houston." "But why should he call his horse Chimpanzee?" There was a roar from the crowd. "They're off!" They were off on that royal mile of Newmarket. "Flitten was told to ride him out from the start. Damn him, why doesn't he do so?" said Tony. "He is, old boy. He's all right. Don't get nervy," said Tufton. "Which is Chimpanzee?" "That bay on the outside." "What colors?" "Yellow. Harcourt up." "Take him along! Take him along! Good God, he's not using the whip already, is he?" "No, no! No, no!" "Damnation!" cried Tony, "why didn't we keep to the inclosure? I believe my horse is beaten. Don't look round, you little blighter! It's not an egg-and-spoon race." The spectators were roaring like the sea. "Moonbeam! Chimpanzee! Moonbeam! Moonbeam!" was shouted in a crescendo of excitement. There was a momentary lull. "Moonbeam by a head," floated in a kind of unisonant sigh along the rails. "O Lord!" Lonsdale gulped. "I'd sooner drive a six-cylinder Lee-Lonsdale at sixty miles an hour through a school treat." The strain was over; the noble owner had led in the noble winner; the ceremonies of congratulation were done; there was a profitable settlement to expect on Monday; yet Dorothy was ill at ease. The resuscitation of Hausberg clouded her contentment. Coincidence would not explain his purchase of the Diavola colt, his naming of it Chimpanzee, and his running it to beat Moonbeam. To be sure, he had failed, but a man who had taken so much trouble to create an effect would be more eager than ever after such a failure to ... "to do what?" she asked herself. Was he aiming at revenge? Such a fancy was melodramatic, absurd ... after all these years deliberately to aim at revenge for a practical joke. Besides, she had had nothing to do with the affair in St. John's Wood. Nor had Tony except as an accessory after the fact. Yet it was strange; it was even sinister. And how odd that Lonsdale should be present at this sinister resurrection. "Lonnie," she said, "do you remember about the monkey?" "What monkey? Did you have a monkey on Moonbeam?" "Not money, you silly boy--the chimpanzee you put in Hausberg's rooms." "Of course I remember it. So does he, apparently, as he's called his horse after it." "I know. I feel nervous. I think he's going to bring us bad luck." "Hello, Doodles, you're looking very gloomy for the wife of the man who is going to win the Derby," said Tony, coming up at that moment, all smiles. "I've just bet fifty pounds for you on one of Cobbett's fillies, which he says is a good thing for the Wilbraham. And the stable's in luck."