“Can she get the five furlongs?” queried Danby. “She's by Assassin, and some of them were quitters.”
“She'll quit if she falls dead,” replied the other man, quietly. “I've worked her good enough to win, and I'm backing her.”
“That'll do for me,” declared Danby. “To tell you the truth, John, I like the little mare myself; but I hear that Langdon, who trained Lauzanne, expects to win.”
“The mare'll be there, or thereabouts,” asserted her owner; “I never knew a Lazzarone yet much good as a two-year-old. They're sulky brutes, like the old horse; and if Lucretia's beat, it won't be Lauzanne that'll turn the trick.”
The bell clanged imperiously at the Judges' Stand. Porter pulled out his watch and looked at it.
“That's saddling,” he remarked, laconically; “I must go and have a bit on the mare, and then take a look at her before she goes out.”
As Porter went down the steps his companion leaned over the rail and crooked his fingers at a thin-faced man with a blond mustache who had been keeping a corner of his eye on the box.
“What are they making favorite, Lewis?” queried Danby, as the thin-faced man stood beside him.
“Lucretia.”
“What's her price?”