“He gave me the straight tip to give Redpath the go-by.”
“What's his little game? Is he going to hedge on the mare?”
“No; he'll stand his bet flat-footed. Say, he's the slickest! If he didn't give me the straight office that the mare might get sick, then I'm a Dutchman.”
“We're both Dutchmen.” The Cherub laughed immoderately at his stupid joke. “See, we're both standin' for The Dutchman, ain't we?”
Langdon frowned at the other's levity. “You'll laugh out the other side your mouth if Lucretia puts up a race in the Derby like she did in the Handicap.”
“But ain't she goin' to get sick? We could whip-saw them both ways then, that's if we knew it first. I could lay against her an' back your horse.”
“I wish the old man wasn't so devilish deep; he makes me tired sometimes; gives it to me straight in one breath that he's got reasons for wantin' to win the race, an' then he pulls that preacher mug of his down a peg an' says, solemn like: 'But don't interfere with their jockey.' Then he talks about The Dutchman or Lucretia gettin' the influenza, an' that Andy Dixon is pretty fly about watchin' the mare. Now what do you make of all that, Jake?”
“Well, you area mug. It don't need no makin' up. That book's all rounded to. He wants the mare stopped, an' don't want no muddlin' about with the jockey, see? Wasn't there a row over stoppin' Lucretia last year? Wasn't the boy set down for the meetin'? You ought to know; you had to pay through the nose for shuttin' his mouth. But what made the old man talk about the mare gettin' sick?”
Langdon searched his memory; just how was that subject started? “Damn it! yes, of course; I told him about the two-year-old havin' the influenza.”
“Well, Dick, my boy, you've guessed it, though you weren't trying. Crane would like to see the Porter mare coughin'.”