"Claim me? Whaddya mean?"
"Well, you see," he explained, "since you're unknown and have no record I've had to enter you in a claiming race. That means anybody who's running another horse in the same race can put in a claim for you before the race, for the price I set on you, and become your owner."
"What's the price you set on me?"
Watson hemmed and hawed. "Three thousand dollars," he admitted.
Incubus cocked an eye at him. "You selling me down the river for a mess of pottage, Watson?"
"No, no," he assured her, "I can't help it—this is some goddam silly racing rule. You have no reputation so I've got to enter you in a maiden claimer."
Incubus raised an eyebrow. "A maiden claimer?"
"A maiden horse," he explained austerely, "is one which has never won a race."
"Oh-h-h-h," she said. "Sorry."
"Now, if the worst comes to the worst and you do get claimed we can figure out ways and means of getting you back. Can't we, Inky?"