"They're off!"
"Baby leads at the quarter."
"Susan is gaining!"
"They're on the stretch!"
"Satan wins by a nose—Peter second."
There was a deafening uproar, hats were tossed ceilingward, and great wads of money were passed out by the "trusted cashier" to indifferent millionaires. Felix wanted to rush in and bet at once on something—if he waited it might be too late. Was it necessary to be introduced to the cashier? No? Would he take the bet? All right, but—
At that moment a page elbowed his way among the money calling plaintively for "Felix! Mr. Felix." Shrinking at the thought of such publicity in such distinguished company, Felix caught the boy's arm and learned that he was wanted at the telephone booth in the hotel.
"It must be 'Mac,'" said Nelson. "Now don't make any mistake!" Felix promised to use the utmost care.
It was "Mac."
"Is this Mr. Felix?—Yes? Well, be very careful now. I am going to give you the result of the third race which has already been run. I will hold back the news three minutes. This is merely to see if everything is working right. Don't make any bet. If I give you the winners correctly, you can put your money on the fourth race. The horse that won the last is Col. Starbottle—Don Juan is second. Now just step back and see if I am right."