Glen relented. For the trainer's sake he would see Bellshaw and try and persuade him not to scratch Barellan, but he was firmly resolved not to yield any sweep money.
"Very well, I'll see him. I think I have a persuasive way, and I'll try it on him," answered Glen.
The trainer brightened visibly.
"You're a good 'un. I'll not forget it," he said.
About eleven o'clock on Sunday morning Glen Leigh was announced.
Bellshaw smiled when he heard the name of his visitor.
"Show him up," he said, and added to himself, "I thought he'd never be such an ass as to throw a chance away."
Glen entered the room. The only greeting he gave was a nod. He took a chair without being asked, and threw his hat on the table, then leaned back and looked at Bellshaw.
"So you've come to your senses," said Bellshaw. "It's lucky for you the office was closed on Saturday night, or my orders to scratch Barellan would have gone in. There's the letter," and he threw it across the table to him.
Much to Bellshaw's surprise, which quickly changed to anger, Glen Leigh tore it up and let the pieces flutter on the table.