Jerry, leaning over the railings below the judge's stand, beamed with delight, but Lesley, finding Mr. Lucanaster and the Rightful Heir next her, felt herself mixed up with the extreme racing set and their nefarious practices. So she glared at her guide resentfully, though he was too much absorbed in his race-glass to notice it. 'Just in time,' he said, looking round with a cheerful smile. 'Now, Jerry, my man! steady to win, or lose--that's the game!' He followed his own advice, anyhow, and Lesley, watching his hands, felt instinctively that the man must be a first-class rifle shot. But Jerry followed the advice also, though, with a wonder as to whether the strain was good or bad for the child, she noticed his fingers clenched white on the white railings in his effort to be calm. 'They're off!' The familiar stir of relief ran through the crowd. Then came the familiar silence, while every eye was riveted on the confused onward sweep over the curved tan--that silent half-seen sweep, which, for all its dimness, its silence to the outward ear and eye, holds in it from the first, a sob, a strain of fiercest effort for the inward sight and hearing. So, at the curve, the trail of horses clustered, spread out again, settled for the straight run home! 'Bonnie Lesley's had it in her pocket from start to finish, Jerry,' said Jack Raymond, suddenly lowering his glasses. 'By Jove! I wish I'd----' He broke off and raised the glasses again. But by this time others had seen that the little brown mare was coming home to her stables cheerfully, and a blank half-irritated surprise began to leaven the suspense. Then a voice--Mr. Lucanaster's--said, 'What a rotten race!' It was, to many; yet as the little mare neared the spectators, there was something in the bronze gleam of her straining muscle, something in the deer-like bound of her forward sweep, something in the eager head with its full anxious eye, outstretched as if to pass the post a second sooner, something in the slack swing of a pair of green sleeves telling of a win, hands down, which made every sportsman present forget personal disappointment in a surge of admiration for the game little beast. 'By Jove! Raymond!' said one of the judges as he passed out, 'what a flyer! I'd give something to own her!' 'I'd give something to have known her,' corrected another. 'Twenty to one! Ye Gods! What a chance for my widow and orphans!'-- 'Who gave _you_ the tip, Jack?' asked an envious voice. 'What tip?' replied Jack Raymond imperturbably. 'Oh! don't fizzle--I saw you--just at the last--you must have about broken the----' 'Totalisators don't break, my dear fellow,' interrupted Jack. 'Now, Jerry, if Miss Drummond is ready, we can go and claim your winnings.' She made no answer till the comparative solitude of re-crossing the course was reached, then she turned to him and said, in a voice to match his own-- 'And your winnings also.'