He was already aware of Martin’s plans as they had stood two days before, but he thought that a change might have been made since the details were arranged in the pool-room stall, and wanted to make sure of his ground.
“They stick to their original plan,” he thought, “and I’ve had this long watch for nothing; but, after all, I was not in a position to take chances.”
He wore the dress and had the appear[{54}]ance of the ordinary employee of the racing stable.
He had procured badges admitting him to all parts of the grounds, the track, and the judges’ stand as well, and the little jockey had provided him with a ribbon bearing the name of Denver Bay.
This would enable him to work around the horse after he appeared upon the track.
“I imagine,” thought the detective, as he listened with his ear at the door, “that there’ll be a performance on the track to-day not down on their bills. If I’m not mistaken, Mr. Johnson will go home to-night sixty thousand dollars poorer than he thinks he will.”
The hall outside the door appeared to be deserted, and the detective pressed back the bolt, and passed out, closing the door softly after him.
The coast was clear, and he lost no time in getting outside and mingling with the crowd.
An he stepped along the walk, he felt a touch upon his arm, and turned to find Chick standing before him, still in the disguise of a jockey.
The two walked along together until they reached a secluded place, and then Nick asked: