"Oh, hang the first and second race," Phillips cried impatiently. "It is the three o'clock race at Mirst Park that I am interested in. Was there any heavy wagering going on, and can you tell me who was betting? That's all I want to know."

The Major went into detail. There had been a certain amount of business over the three o'clock race, but sundry heavy wagers had been deferred almost to the last moment. A large amount of chaff had gone on between one particular plunger and Selwyn and his satellites over a horse called the Dandy. Dandy had been a rank outsider and had only cropped up in the betting at the eleventh hour, so to speak. A quarter of an hour before the race there had been no takers. Then the argument grew more heated and finally Selwyn had laid several wagers against Dandy at a thousand to thirty. All this had taken place, so far as the Major could guess, whilst the race was in progress. There was something like consternation amongst the bookmakers when the news came that Dandy had won the Longhill Handicap by three lengths. Altogether it had been a dramatic afternoon.

"And that's about all I can tell you," the Major concluded. "If you want me again, give me more notice, please. I really must be going."

He took up his hat and swaggered from the room, leaving Phillips apparently very well pleased.

"Our case is complete," he said. "The rest is in your hands."

CHAPTER XXXV
A POISONOUS ATMOSPHERE

IT is impossible for a man to change the habits of a lifetime, especially when he has reached the age to which Sir George Haredale had attained. He tried hard to justify himself in his present embroilment. He juggled with his conscience, but the ways of the transgressor are hard, and the master of Haredale Park was having anything but a good time. He knew that he was doing wrong, that he was about to commit something in the shape of a crime. When a man has pledged himself to this kind of thing, it is marvellous how circumstances combine to help him.

On the face of it things were not going well. The victory of the Blenheim colt in the Champion Stakes was a blow to him. He had expected the colt to lose, thereby giving him occasion to scratch it. If this had turned out as he had expected, he would have been the object of popular sympathy and his reputation as a sportsman and an honourable man would have been enhanced. But to his surprise and vexation, the colt had proved his sterling worth and within the last few hours the public had established him more firmly than ever in the betting. There was always the chance, of course, that the race would leave its mark on the colt and that some ill effects might supervene, in which case the original programme could be carried out without exciting the suspicions of the many-headed.

This was precisely what did happen. Three days later Mallow came into his employer's study with a long face and the information that the colt's lack of condition was rather more manifest than before. For once in a way Mallow was not polite and forgot the respect due to his master.