Silently she approached closer, and stood still, listening intently.
Then only the two girls heard a voice they recognized.
“Jimmy,” said Mabel. “You were mistaken, Shirley.”
She started to go closer, but Shirley stopped her with a whispered word of caution.
“There is some one else there, too! Listen.”
“Yes,” came the voice of Jimmy Smith, “he is in fine shape, as you see. He will be in perfect condition for the Derby. He is sure to win.”
“Yes, he’ll win, all right,” was the answer, in a voice that neither Shirley nor Mabel recognized. “He’ll win unless something happens.”
“But what can happen to him?” inquired Jimmy. “He is being nursed carefully. I am attending to him myself. No other hand but mine touches him, unless it is that of Miss Shirley; and I have promised to have him perfectly fit for the big race.”
“That,” said the stranger in a hoarse whisper, “is what I have come to see you about.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jimmy.