“Are they?”
“Yes; heavy.”
“If he's worth backing at all I suppose he's worth backing heavily.”
This aphorism seemed to merit a new cigar on Crane's part, so he lighted one.
“He's travelin' up and down in the market,” continues Faust. “He dropped to thirty, then went back to seventy-five; now he's at twenty; I can't make it out.”
“I shouldn't try,” advised Crane, soothingly. “Too much knowledge is even as great a danger as a lesser amount sometimes.”
Faust started guiltily and looked with quick inquiry at the speaker, but, as usual, there was nothing in his presence beyond the words to hang a conjecture on.
“I thought for your sake that I'd better find out.”
“Oh, don't worry about me; that is, too much, you know. I go down to Gravesend once in a while myself, and no doubt know all that's doing.”
A great fear fell upon Faust. Evidently this was an intimation to him to keep away from the stables. How did Crane know—who had split on him? Was it Langdon, or Shandy, or Colley? Some one had evidently aroused Crane's suspicion, and this man of a great cleverness had put him away while he worked a big commission through some one else. The thought was none the less bitter to Faust that it was all his own fault; his super-cleverness.