The people who had hurried to put their money on Full Moon grumbled loudly; but the public appreciated the clear lead that Tony had given them. He had put his own money on Vanity Girl before the result of the trial leaked out, and though he had obtained tens against the first two thousand he wagered, the news ran round the clubs so quickly that even before the public was warned by the scratching of Full Moon that Vanity Girl was the hope of Clare, he was finding it hard to get fours against the filly; after that her price shortened to five to two; in the week before the race it was only six to four; in the ring on the day itself not a bookmaker was risking more than eleven to ten, and with money still pouring in faster than ever she seemed likely to start at odds on, an unprecedented price for a horse that had not been seen in public since two consecutive defeats in the autumn of the year before. The public could not be blamed for their eagerness to back the filly. It was generally known that Clarehaven either had to win the Derby or be ruined, and if he preferred Vanity Girl to the winner of the Guineas at such a crisis in his affair she must indeed be sure of her success. If the public had known that even his wife's honor was in pawn besides his house and his lands they could not have been more confident. "If Vanity Girl fails," Dorothy asked, on the morning of the race, "you won't have a halfpenny left?" "I might have an odd hundred pounds," Tony reckoned. "And your mother--and Bella?" He shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose Uncle Chat will look after them." "And us?" "Oh, we'll emigrate or something. Rather fun, don't you know. I shall wangle something. The going will be hardish," he said, looking at the sky, "and that's always in her favor. She hated that Newmarket mud last autumn. Come on, Doodles, the car's waiting." They walked down the steps of the flat, and the porter who had hurried out to shut the door of the car touched his cap. "Good luck, my lady! Good luck, my lord! Shepherd's Market is on Vanity Girl to the last copper." "Put on a sovereign for yourself, Galloway," said his lordship, grandly proffering the coin. Several loafers who had sometimes run for his lordship's cabs shouted, "Hurrah for the Derby favorite!" and Tony flung them some silver to back his filly. The road to Epsom was thronged; Tony, who was obviously feeling nervous, had left the driving to the chauffeur, and was sitting back with Dorothy in the body of the car. "I think Lonnie might have come with us," he said, fretfully. "Does it bore you so much driving with me alone?" she asked. "Don't be silly! Of course not. But I'm nervy and.... Oh, but what rot! Nothing can go wrong."