Incubus wiped away a tear with a wisp of hay. "All right, Watson, I'll win the Futurity for you. After all you have first claim on my loyalty. Who brought me out of obscurity? You! Who recognized my potentialities? You! Who made a horse out of me? You!"
Incubus won the Belmont Futurity and was carried off the track on the shoulders of a cheering crowd. Retouched photographs of the big black horse hit not only the sport pages but the front page of every newspaper in the country.
But the question of her racing again was shelved for the nonce. Shortly after the Futurity, Watson discovered that Incubus was pregnant. "Pamplemousse?" he asked.
She nodded shyly.
"But how could you do it? You two were in separate stalls."
Incubus snickered. "I have my methods, Watson."
"He's a low cad," said Watson.
"I knew what I was doing. I went into it with my eyes open."
He wondered just how he was going to enter the foal in the stud book. Although it would be of impeccable ancestry its escutcheon would be marred by a bend sinister.
Some months later, Incubus called Watson to her stall.