"It is very easy—but very dangerous. I should want—"
"I know; I know," exclaimed Owen petulantly. "Here is the money."
Balthazar gloated over the yellow bills.
"And here is the weapon."
The Gypsy took the needle from the hand of the secretary and thrust it quickly into the inside pocket of his blouse. "Thank you, master. I will do what you say," said the Gypsy, making a move to go.
"Not quite so fast," commanded Owen. "You do not know the place or the time."
"The Jericho track next Saturday," answered the Gypsy promptly. "What is the horse?"
"Firefly. It will be bought at the Jericho stables this afternoon.
You will be there to see it and to remember it. Goodbye now."
"Goodbye master—and many thanks."
Michael Caliban, wealthiest of sportsmen, attended the auction of the Lordnor stables, and seemed bent on adding the entire string of splendid horses to his own far-famed monarchs of the track.