"How about lending me this money?" Angus asked.
"Oh—ah—yes, the money. H'm. Well, under the circumstances I will advance it on your note. Not business, but to help you out——Well, don't forget about Chetwood. Bring him in. He might get into wrong hands, you know. Bring him in, my boy, and you won't regret it."
With the settlement of the money question Angus was greatly relieved. He was saddled with an additional debt, but at least he was in a position to pay the winner, which as he looked at it was the main thing.
With Jean he went out to the track early in the afternoon. Here and there in the crowd he noted the tall figures of the French brothers. Apparently, they were still taking all the money they could get. On their way to the stand to secure seats, they came upon Chetwood, who was eying the motley crowd whose costumes ranged from blankets to Bond Street coats, with pure delight. But being introduced to Jean, the young Englishman lost all interest in the crowd, and accompanied them. Kathleen French waved greeting to them, and they found seats beside her. It appeared that she had met Chetwood.
"Well, Angus, do you want any Flambeau money?" she laughed.
"I wouldn't bet much, if I were you," he advised her seriously.
"I will bet every dollar I can. That's what the boys are doing, and they're good judges of a horse."
"I think Dorgan is a better one."
"What does he know about Flambeau?" she asked.
"He seems to be satisfied with knowing Chief."