We hied ourselves to a nearby resort and stood by the news ticker to see what would happen to Annie. It was half an hour since the third race had been reported.
"Fourth race—tick—tick—tick," it came. "A—Al——,"
"We've lost!" I cried.
"A—AL—ALPENA first."
There was grim silence.
"Tick—tick——,"
"Here she is!" yelled Campbell.
"A-N-N-I-E LAURETTA second—40—20—10" (meaning that the odds were 40 to 1, first, 20 to 1, second, and 10 to 1, third, and that those who had played "across the board" had won second and third money at great odds).
I boarded a Broadway car, rode down to the Stewart building and rented one of the finest suites of offices in its sacred purlieus. I ordered a leading furniture dealer to furnish it sumptuously. At night I walked over to the Morning Telegraph office, laid $250 on the counter, ordered inserted a flaring full-page ad. announcing that Maxim & Gay had given Annie Lauretta at 40, 20 and 10, second, and previously Silver Coin at 10 to 1, won, and were ready for more business.
A telegram was sent to Frank Mead, instructing him to spend money in every direction with a view to getting the very best information that could be obtained from handicappers, clockers, trainers and every other source he could reach. Mead continued to wire daily the name of one horse, which we promptly labeled and thereafter advertised daily as "The One Best Bet." Soon "One Best Bet" became a term to conjure with.