Chris and Carlton Mackrell exchanged glances, both prepared for the same reply.
"No, I'm not," she said positively. "What you can see in this rabble, and travesty of sport I'm sure I don't know—I mean," suddenly remembering, and turning a dazzle of blue eyes and smiles upon Carlton Mackrell, "from a woman's point of view, of course. I quite understand the fascination driving your own horses has for you, Mr. Mackrell, but I can't admit that it's quite a nice thing for a girl—" But she spoke to unheeding ears, for he had divined Gay's wish that he should take her to the stables, and when he suggested it, she went with him eagerly.
Leaving Lossie and the unwilling Chris together, they made their way through the Ring, Mackrell drawing ten pounds from his bookmaker, who begged him "not to do it again." Her original stake of two pounds Gay put in her pocket, tightly clutching the remainder in her little fist.
They found Tugwood assisting a lad to rub Silver Streak down, and highly pleased with himself. He magnificently waved Gay's outstretched hand containing the eight pounds away.
"Leave it all down, miss, please," he said; "put the lot on our 'oss for the final. We shall win outright now, for the best field was behind me in the first heat. You understand the market 'ere, sir, don't you?" he asked Carlton Mackrell, "so don't forget to distribute the money among the bookies. A quid 'ere, an' a couple there, you know, sir, though you won't get such a nice price again. It's wonderful 'ow they pinch the price for a heat winner for the final."
Together Gay and Carlton watched the next four heats, Gay taking particular interest, naturally, in the heats which concerned her race, and when the horses turned out for the eventful final, Carlton Mackrell walked down the rails to speak to Tugwood, for he had seen something in the second heat that he knew would be valuable knowledge to the driver, and this he told him. He had barely time to get back to the stand before the bell rang to announce the start. But Silver Streak did not get off so well this time, and for the first circuit of the course only improved two places. Passing the stands he was fourth, the heat winners and two fastest losers being qualified to go in the final, and Gay's expressive face looked the picture of despair as the horses sped past to the turn.
"He'll never catch the leaders," she exclaimed; "they're all going well, faster than they went in their heats, it seems to me. Whatever does Tugwood keep looking round at that crimson jacket behind him for? I don't see any sense in it; it's those in front he has to beat, not that one."
Carlton Mackrell laughed.
"He's doing what I told him," he answered. "The crimson jacket is the real danger. Look!"
As if to prove his words, the pacer mentioned suddenly increased his speed in a great effort to pass Silver Streak. Tugwood instantly responded, and a great race for supremacy began between the pair. The terrific speed they were going at, took them past first one leader and then another, while from the enthusiasm among the spectators on the stands, it was apparent that they regarded the race as a match between Silver Streak and the crimson jacket.